Murong Xue raised her eyes and swept them over the two of them, who looked rather tense. A faint yet amused smile played on her lips, and the curiosity in her eyes was impossible to hide.

The two wealthy young ladies standing nearby had been gazing at Fu Sici with infatuated looks. After hesitating for a long while, one of them blushed and mustered up the courage to step forward, her voice soft and coquettish:

“Hello, we… could we be friends?”

The male lead’s brows instantly grew cold and hard, a chilling aura radiating from his entire being. Without the slightest patience, he snapped out a merciless rebuke:

“Get lost.”

Those icy words struck like a bolt of lightning, instantly turning the two girls’ faces bright red with shame and indignation. They hurried away in a flustered rush.

He didn’t glance at anyone else again. His gloomy, stern gaze fixed on Su Qingyue’s straight-backed figure, slowly scanning her from head to toe.

His burning stare carried an unhidden sense of pressure, making her feel utterly uncomfortable all over. Her spine tightened into a rigid line, and she just wanted to escape this place right away.

The sound of footsteps drew nearer and nearer. Just as he was about to reach her side, her voice trembled slightly as she said:

“Um, sister… You guys go ahead and chat. I’ll be going now.”

No sooner had she lifted her foot than Murong Xue’s warm hand wrapped around her wrist and held it tightly. She froze, looking up at the gentle, smiling Murong Xue:

“Little sister, we’ve hit it off so well—why are you in such a hurry? Why don’t you go upstairs for a bit and have a little chat?”

With that, she turned to Fu Sici, who stood nearby with a cold, brooding expression and low, heavy energy, speaking in a soft tone:

“Xiao Ci, what do you think?”

Fu Sici’s deep, penetrating eyes locked onto her flustered face, his gaze heavy and solemn. He nodded without the slightest hesitation.

Seeing her son behave like this, the smile on Murong Xue’s lips instantly grew brighter. She knew all too well that her son was usually aloof, indifferent, and stubborn—he never really cared about anyone else. This kind of compliant behavior was something she’d never seen before.

Half coaxing, half urging, she took Su Qingyue by the arm and led her upstairs to the second-floor reception lounge.

“Little sister, let me introduce you. This is my son, Fu Sici. He’s 28 years old.”

She smiled as she made the introduction, then turned to Fu Sici and said:

“Xiao Ci, this little sister is Su Qingyue. She’s a friend Mom just met at the art exhibition. She has a unique insight into my paintings and we hit it off right away.”

Su Qingyue sat on the sofa, feeling as if she were sitting on pins and needles. Her eyes remained calm and composed, and she smiled politely, but all she could think about was finding some excuse to slip away.

“Oh, by the way, Qingyue, how old are you? What do you do for a living?”

“I’ll be 23 soon—I just came back from studying abroad and haven’t started working yet.”

Murong Xue perked up at that: “Haven’t started working yet? Why don’t you come work in my studio?”

“No, thanks. My older brother has already arranged everything for me. I’ll be starting soon.”

Working for Fu Sici’s mother? That would be like handing her half her life over! Who knew what that madman Fu Sici might do?

“Oh, I see. Well, alright then. How about we add each other on WeChat? We can make plans to meet up sometime.”

Murong Xue smiled, a bit disappointed. The more she looked at this girl, the more she liked her—she was pretty, cute, and straightforward.

“Okay,” Su Qingyue replied.

Though she felt a little uneasy, she obediently pulled out her business card and scanned it for Murong Xue to add her on WeChat.

“Xiao Ci, you should add her too—maybe we can make plans together sometime.”

From Su Qingyue’s perspective, Murong Xue was secretly giving Fu Sici a smug wink.

As Fu Sici, his face still cold and arrogant, took out his phone and scanned her business card, Su Qingyue desperately wanted to pull her own hand holding the phone back.

“Alright, it’s scanned. Yueyue, you add her now.”

“Okay.”

No sooner had they added each other as friends than Fu Sici lowered his gaze, picked up his phone, and opened her WeChat Moments. He found that she rarely posted—only a handful of entries.

End of Chapter 8: “I don’t know you! I do know you!”