When Mu Yuting emerged from the walk-in closet, he was clad in a tailored black suit. The slim-fit cut accentuated his impeccable physique, exuding an air of understated elegance, aloofness, and quiet dominance.

Seeing the woman staring blankly at the bloodstain on the sheets, his sharp eyes flickered with a rare pang of sympathy.

That stain—her most precious first—had been given to him.

Though she had initiated last night’s encounter, driven by desire, he had been unable to resist... Still, it was a fact they had crossed the line. And in such situations, women always bore the greater risk. A pang of guilt tugged at him.

Mu Yuting smoothly withdrew a card from his suit pocket and placed it on the bed, his tone as cold as ever.

"There’s two million in here. Take it."

Lin Xiaonuan, already irritated, bristled at the insult. Was he treating her like a prostitute? fiery rage surged within her.

"What the hell do you take me for? Let me tell you, you nouveau riche bastard, don’t look down on people just because you’ve got a few stinky bucks. I’ve got money too—"

Nouveau riche? Mu Yuting stared at the fuming woman before him in disbelief. In Jiangcheng, the line of people desperate to curry favor with him stretched from here to the Atlantic. Every single one of them addressed him with reverence as "Young Master Mu." And this woman had the audacity to call him a parvenu?

If it weren’t for last night’s mind-blowing escapades, a woman of such low breeding would’ve already been tossed into the river to feed the fish.

His eyes burned with fury—but then he saw her puffed-up cheeks, her eyes blazing like an angry frog’s.

And he couldn’t help it. He laughed.

First thing in the morning, she accused him of being a gigolo, and now she had the nerve to mock him openly.

Unforgivable.

She had to pay him back for this.

Digging into her crossbody bag, she rummaged furiously, producing two crumpled one-yuan bills and a single coin—totaling a grand total of two yuan and fifty cents.

Perfect. Two-fifty was just right for this two-hundred-and-fifty-percent idiot.

With her chin held high, she glared at him defiantly.

"Last night, you hurt me so bad, I shouldn’t even give you a cent. But hey, I guess your line of work isn’t easy. No glory, but at least you put in the effort, right? So consider these two-fifty a tip—for your ‘hard work’ last night. Go treat yourself to a decent meal, maybe bulk up a little."

As she spoke, her own face burned crimson, but she stood her ground, determined to salvage her pride. She had to win this round.

With that, she yanked at his suit jacket and shoved the money into the luxurious pocket.

Mu Yuting’s brows knitted together in fury. Damn woman—did she really just call him a prostitute?

He stepped back to avoid her hand, but it was too late. The money was already in his pocket, and her fingers were still inside.

In the struggle, they both lost their balance. He crashed onto the floor, and she landed right on top of him.

Their lips met with magnetic precision—neither had any say in it.

Eyes wide, they froze.

Then, in perfect synchronization, they scrambled to their feet, turned their backs to each other, and wiped their mouths.

The mutual disgust was palpable. Last night’s intimacy? Gone.

This was no place to linger. Even the usually composed Mu Yuting panicked, striding toward the door in three long steps. Before leaving, he tossed over his shoulder,

"The card has no password."

"Oh, shut up!" Lin Xiaonuan grabbed a slipper and hurled it at him.

Smack! It hit the door with a resounding thud.

You little bastard—if you’d run any slower, I swear I’d have crushed your skull.

Instead of exiting through the main lobby, Mu Yuting took the private passage. A Bentley awaited him, and the chauffeur, Mu Yuan, opened the door with deference.

"Young Master."

"Back to the office."

"Yes, Young Master."

The moment the car pulled away, Mu Yuting dialed a number.

"Ye Chen, investigate someone for me."

"Name?"

"Lin Xiaonuan, female, 21, senior at Jiangcheng University, Fashion Design major."

She wasn’t a local—their hometown was 500 kilometers away. She lived on campus during the week and spent weekends at a villa.

Academically gifted but financially struggling, she’d relied on student loans her entire college career.

She had a boyfriend, Lu Yuan, a year older and already employed. They’d been dating for about a year and a half. Relationship status unclear.

Boyfriend? Mu Yuting’s brow furrowed.

"The details are in your inbox."

"Understood."

Hanging up, Ye Chen exhaled deeply.

"What’s going on? Mu Yueting is actually investigating a girl? The 29-year-old ice sculpture is finally melting?"

"Fascinating," he murmured, sipping his coffee.

...

Back in Room 1818, Lin Xiaonuan finally relaxed—she’d been too angry to notice her bladder earlier. Now, if she didn’t hurry, she’d embarrass herself.

Staring into the bathroom mirror, she spotted the unmistakable hickey on her neck.

Damn that nouveau riche idiot, that moron, that jackass...

Why did he have to be so rough?

Had he never seen a woman before?