Atraindo-a para a Primavera de Pequim

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“Biehan? Could it be the acting CEO of Universal in the capital, Shang Biehan? Come on, be honest—who is he to you?!”

When Su Mian received the call from Shang Biehan, her assistant Qin Lingling’s eyes instantly gleamed, and she clung to Su Mian’s arm, shaking it wildly. Su Mian raised a finger to her lips in a hush, then smiled, “What’s there to confess? He’s my brother. We’re on the same household registration, that kind of brother.”

“Second Brother,” Su Mian answered the phone, her tone languid. She was still a bit dizzy from last night’s hangover, lounging comfortably in her executive chair, spinning slightly with her feet on the floor as she gazed out at the deep night beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows.

There was a brief grunt from the other end—Shang Biehan was always straightforward: “Your eldest brother found out about your kidnapping.”

Su Mian’s expression froze; her hand on the chair tightened ever so slightly. Beside her, Qin Lingling did a silent chicken dance—who knew when she’d written a note and held it up for Su Mian to see:

[Rumor has it in the industry that Shang Biehan is taking over Universal Pictures. If he’s your brother, with a snap of his fingers all your troubles would be solved! Beg him!]

Su Mian gave her an amused glance, took the paper, and scribbled a few words:

[No need. An even bigger backer is coming.]

Her handwriting was firm and elegant, strokes like iron and silver, carrying both the grace of a woman and the grandeur of bold brushwork—each glance was pleasing to the ey