Chapter 58: A Pure and Remarkable Lady

At seven in the evening, Liu Molan changed into a semi-formal dress they had bought together at Jianghai City's commercial street. The pale lavender gown wrapped elegantly around her, complemented by an air of subtle chill, making her resemble a noble and mysterious princess. Qin Yang was certain that, dressed like this, she would not be outshone by any of the meticulously styled socialites at the banquet.

“How are we getting there?” Liu Molan asked bitterly. “Are we taking a taxi? If we walk, you’ll have to carry me the whole way—all your fault.”

Glancing at the high heels on Liu Molan’s feet, Qin Yang scratched his nose and said, “They probably arranged a car for us, didn’t they?”

Just as he spoke, there was a knock at the door. When he opened it, it turned out to be Lu Ran—the same man who had invited Liu Molan to dinner the previous evening. As soon as he saw Qin Yang, Lu Ran nodded slightly in greeting, then bypassed him to approach Liu Molan. “Miss Liu, you had me worried yesterday. Thankfully you’re all right; otherwise I’d have been remiss as your host.” He paused, his expression shifting to one of admiration. “You look absolutely stunning tonight. I’m sure you’ll captivate everyone at the banquet.”

“How did you know about the banquet?” Liu Molan asked, a hint of surprise in her voice.

Lu Ran smiled gently. “Events like this always have a guest list, and I happened to see it. At first, I thought these pretentious, tiresome parties had little meaning, but then I noticed your name. Thinking your car trouble might prevent you from attending, I decided to come and act as your chauffeur.”

Liu Molan glanced at Qin Yang.

Qin Yang could only shrug helplessly. Given her current state—on the run—taking public transport was the last thing their pursuers would expect, making it a much safer option.

“Let’s go,” Lu Ran said with a smile. “It’s about time.”

Qin Yang stretched, preparing to leave, but Lu Ran stopped him. “Mr. Qin, are you attending the banquet as well?”

“Can’t I?” Qin Yang replied, puzzled.

Lu Ran gave a wry smile and gestured at Qin Yang. “It’s just, your outfit…”

“Hm?”

Qin Yang looked down at his clothes. Though they were cheap items Liu Molan had bought, they were comfortable—simple casualwear, his feet clad in a pair of Li-Ning sneakers. He cut a sporty, energetic figure, the very picture of casual youthfulness. Liu Molan offered a rueful smile; she had planned to get him a suit, but no matter what she said, Qin Yang refused, insisting he felt awkward in formalwear. In fact, aside from their first meeting—when he’d looked presentable—he rarely wore a suit. Every time he entered a department store, people assumed he was just another customer.

“What’s wrong with this?” Qin Yang frowned. “It’s comfortable.”

Lu Ran patted his forehead. “It’s a bit inappropriate, that’s all.”

“It’s fine; he’s with me,” Liu Molan interjected. “Surely the banquet doesn’t require suits and ties for entry?”

Hearing her speak up, Lu Ran could only acquiesce, leading them out of the hotel and into his Audi A8. Qin Yang took the front seat, leaving Liu Molan to sit in the back. Lu Ran sighed, resigned, and drove them toward the Hailong Hotel, which was hosting the event. On the way, he ignored Qin Yang entirely, engaging Liu Molan in lively conversation.

After ten minutes, they approached the hotel, where flashes of cameras lit up the area—a sign that the media had arrived. A long red carpet stretched ahead, ready for the so-called business elites to make their entrance.

Security was tight, with a guard stationed every five meters. Spectators were kept at a distance, and even the journalists were restricted to designated spots. If anyone preferred not to appear in the press or online, their images would be edited out. As soon as Lu Ran’s car stopped, an attendant arrived to take it. Lu Ran tried to offer his arm to escort Liu Molan inside, but she deftly declined.

Qin Yang, meanwhile, had no interest in parading down the red carpet—nor would anyone want him to. He said to Liu Molan, “I’ll go in the back; they won’t let me use the front.”

“Be careful not to get mistaken for a random loiterer and thrown out,” Liu Molan whispered.

Qin Yang snapped his fingers and slipped away toward the back entrance. He’d rarely visited the headquarters of the Qin family’s conglomerate, but their hotels—those he knew well. Even as a spoiled heir, he’d never brought business to their competitors, especially since Wang Zhibing had once warned him: never leave others an opening to exploit.

He passed through the kitchen and down the corridor, entering through a side door to the hotel’s emergency exit. Jogging all the way, he reached the side entrance to the main hall and stepped into the elevator. The air was thick with various perfumes, their brands indiscernible. All around him were elegantly dressed ladies and, of course, successful business figures. Seeing Qin Yang’s rather out-of-place attire, many present looked at him in surprise. But with his back turned, even those who had met him before failed to recognize the infamous heir.

When the elevator doors opened, the grand hall on the thirty-third floor came into view. According to what Qin Yang knew, the designer had drawn inspiration from the thirty-three heavens of mythology, intending to highlight the venue’s prestige and to suggest that anyone permitted entry was far from ordinary. Each time the elevator opened, those nearby would glance over to see if anyone familiar had arrived. This time was no exception, but upon seeing Qin Yang—dressed almost like a pauper—some guests nearly spat out their wine in shock.

Not because of his attire alone, but because it was Qin Yang—Qin Yang, alive and well.

The most astonished were those who had believed he was dead. Rumor had it that Qin Yang had died in a car accident, and though the Qin family had issued some clarification, gossip had turned uncertainty into fact. So, seeing him now, many were dumbfounded. Qin Yang, meanwhile, glanced around with a hint of amusement, picked up a glass of red wine from a nearby table, downed it in one gulp, and set the glass back down.

“What took you so long?” Liu Molan, who had been waiting nearby, came over and pulled him aside. “Don’t just stand here—let’s go over there. Manager Guo is waiting.”

“Had to sneak in through the back. Security tried to stop me, so I argued with them a bit and slipped in. That’s what took so long,” Qin Yang replied, sounding annoyed.

As the two of them walked and talked, a commotion suddenly broke out behind them. Instinctively, they turned to look. A strikingly handsome man with a hawk-like nose had just entered, escorting a breathtaking beauty. She no longer possessed the seductive, almost supernatural allure she’d displayed at the teahouse earlier that day—a blend of classical elegance and sensuality—but now radiated a pure, innate beauty, like a solitary white tulip. Her face was bare, fresh and serene, exuding an otherworldly grace. Dressed in a gown as white as snow, she seemed ethereal, like a fairy from the heavens. Though her expression was somber, this very flaw made her all the more enchanting.

The pair, as if a heavenly couple, immediately drew every eye in the room. They made no effort to stand out, but simply by standing together, they became impossible to ignore.

Women burned with envy, while men could not hide their admiration.

At this sight, Qin Yang’s eyes turned icy cold, his fists clenching until his knuckles cracked. A suppressed murderous intent swirled in his dark eyes; anyone observant enough might have glimpsed a world of blackness within them.

Meanwhile, Huang Zequn—who had been approaching them—caught sight of the pair just exiting the elevator and let out a sinister, mocking laugh.