Chapter One: Is the Merchant Style a Supreme Art?

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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 eye.

On the other end, Shang Biehan seemed slightly surprised by her indifference. There was a long pause before he spoke again.

“Eldest brother has returned to the country. Be careful—he might come see you.”

Su Mian’s hand trembled; even the simple word “come” was scrawled crookedly across the page, leaving a jarring slash.

A day ago, at the Golden Moon Awards Ceremony—

“Miss Su, you’ve won Best Actress at such a young age. The future is limitless!” Chairman Huo of QD, well into his fifties but still with distinguished features, slightly plump and all smiles, raised his wine glass and squinted at Su Mian. “Let’s have a drink.”

Su Mian gracefully sidestepped, subtly avoiding Huo Chong’s attempt to touch her hand, maintaining a polite smile as she clinked glasses and downed her wine.

QD, Huo Chong’s company, was a veteran powerhouse in the industry, holding sway over many acclaimed directors and films—not someone to offend lightly.

“Mianmian, I brought a bottle tonight—a ‘74 Romanée-Conti.” Huo Chong switched to a more familiar address, his smile deepening. The attendant beside him refilled his glass with the decanted wine. “Would you do me the honor and share a taste with this old man?”

As he wished, Su Mian let the attendant pour for her as well, smiling faintly. Huo Chong was clearly waiting for her to take the first sip.

Seeing her gently swirl the wine glass in silence, Huo Chong grew anxious, hinting suggestively, “Don’t be afraid of getting drunk. I’m well acquainted with the hotel management; I can arrange for you to stay overnight.”

Su Mian still didn’t speak, her smile enigmatic. The look in her eyes made Huo Chong uneasy. She turned her head and whispered to Qin Lingling, “Is there something in this wine?”

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Qin Lingling was so frightened her hair stood on end. She quickly typed out a message on her phone:

[Should we run? Even if we offend QD, we have to get out. I’ve already checked the escape routes.]

Su Mian glanced down and chuckled softly, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, still whispering.

“I’m more afraid there’s nothing in it.”

Then, she downed the wine in a single gulp, her smile tempting. “Chairman Huo, I’m here with genuine intentions to collaborate.”

The word “collaborate” rolled off her tongue with a lingering sweetness, hinting at something more.

But the smile never reached her eyes. Her delicate, cool beauty radiated a gentle warmth, yet she was as untouchable as a celestial tree, exuding an unshakeable calm.

Huo Chong was very satisfied. He ordered the attendant to do something, handed him a room card, and laughed heartily at Su Mian.

“Well then, see you later, Miss Su.”

Su Mian waved at him twice with her palm, then, once he was far enough away, leaned down to Qin Lingling and said, “There’s a sedative in the wine. I have some resistance, but I’ll probably faint in fifteen minutes. Take me backstage and keep an eye on me. No one dares act openly in a crowded place.”

Her timid assistant, Qin Lingling, was even more flustered. “You can smell there’s drugs in the wine and still drank it? And you have resistance? Are you some kind of freak?”

Su Mian couldn’t help but smile. “My family’s complicated. For self-preservation, I had to train a bit. Actually, I’m not even that skilled—some real freaks can identify herbal ingredients by scent alone.”

At the thought of that person, Su Mian lowered her gaze, lashes trembling to hide the pain in her eyes. When she looked up again, her expression was calm and unruffled.

“Long story short, at this dose, I’ll only be out for five minutes. But Huo Chong probably won’t give up that easily. Did you bring your stun baton?” Seeing Qin Lingling nod, she added, “Keep it on you. You might need it.”

Twenty minutes later, Su Mian woke to see Qin Lingling on the verge of tears. Relieved to see her awake, Qin Lingling regained some composure—but not much. “Both exits are blocked by men—seven or eight hulking guys, each at least six feet tall. The guy who poured our wine is lurking by the east door, and I saw a room card in his hand. Must be from Huo Chong.”

“You explained the situation well,” Su Mian coughed, her throat burning painfully—a lingering effect. Her voice, usually as clear and sweet as iced plum wine, now held a raspy edge that made even Qin Lingling blush.

“They’re waiting to grab you as soon as you step out, then toss you onto that old bastard’s bed. Su Mian, what do we do? Call the police?”

“They haven’t actually done anything yet. If we call the police now, we’re just handing them leverage.” Su Mian hated seeing girls cry—Qin Lingling’s eyes were brimming but not yet spilling. Patting her shoulder gently, Su Mian said, “Don’t be afraid. Which door looks easier to get through?”

“The west door—one less guy.”

Su Mian nodded. “Then we’ll go out the east door.” She stood and found a mascot costume so filthy no one had touched it in years. With practiced ease, she pulled a high-voltage stun baton from inside the mascot’s head, tested it, then handed it to Qin Lingling. “Take this too. Use it on anyone who comes near. Don’t hesitate.”

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“I said the west door was easier!” Qin Lingling protested, but still obediently took the stun baton before realizing what was happening.

“I know.”

Su Mian gave her a gentle push, and Qin Lingling shot out the east door—straight into two burly men.

They exchanged a glance. “Su Mian’s assistant?”

Qin Lingling wanted to curse Su Mian for abandoning her, but she raised the stun batons anyway. The guy on the left snatched one from her, but the slower one on the right got zapped—though he only staggered a bit and remained unscathed.

Her actions, however, provoked them, and fists were raised in threat.

“Su Mian, you traitor!” Qin Lingling yelled.

But the expected pain never came. Su Mian grabbed her wrist and dragged her away at lightning speed—Qin Lingling nearly lost her footing as they fled.

Su Mian pushed her aside, spun gracefully, and stopped flawlessly to shield her. A fist the size of a sandbag whizzed past her face, but Su Mian tilted her head nimbly to dodge, then called out, “Gentlemen, wait—let’s talk this through.”

The wind from the punch lifted her hair, accentuating her delicate, sculpted features. She stood tall and slender, like a statue carved to golden proportions.

“I can see you’re all practiced fighters. I know a martial art myself—called the Shang Family Style. Not sure if it’s a true secret art, but maybe you could give me your opinion?”

With wide, innocent almond eyes, she looked as sincere as a fawn lost in the woods. The men exchanged baffled glances, their hearts briefly softening, but her words left them even more confused.

“Shang Family Style? Which Shang family?” the leader asked, unconvinced she could cause any real trouble. Her assistant looked hopelessly useless. He stepped forward.

“The Shang family in the capital,” Su Mian replied lazily, ignoring the flicker of wariness in their eyes.

As her gentle words faded, her left hand shot up and she assumed a defensive stance, her expression suddenly sharp and commanding.

The leader, remembering his orders from above, didn’t dare underestimate her. He motioned for his men to surround her.