"Miss Lan, we meet again."
Lan Xia nearly groaned.
Standing at the foot of the stairs, blocking her escape route like a golden-furred fox who'd sniffed out mischief, was Steve Han.
She tried to slip past him without a word, but he stepped neatly into her path.
He lifted both hands as if surrendering. "Don't be nervous. I'm only here to give you something from my boss. Once you take it, I'll be on my way."
Her stomach twisted.
His boss means Fan Yujing.
After what had happened in Room 303—his cold, indifferent act in front of everyone—she couldn't imagine what he wanted now.
Money?
Revenge?
Another "contract"?
But when Steve Han pulled a thin slip of paper from his pocket and handed it to her, she froze completely.
Her eyes widened. Her breath stopped as she saw there were… too many zeroes.
Her hand trembled violently.
"Th-this… this is…"
Steve Han smiled with perfect politeness, as if he were explaining the weather.
"As you can see, Miss Lan, it's the bill for the presidential suite at the Hilton last night. And below it—an IOU."
She stared numbly at the astronomical figure.
Even at the Lan family's peak, she didn't think she'd ever seen such a number on paper, unless it belonged to someone else.
"This can't be right," she whispered hoarsely. "Even the presidential suite isn't this expensive."
Steve Han blinked at her innocently.
"Oh, it's not for the room. It's for the special service you ordered last night."
Her heart plummeted.
The man's mocking words from that morning slammed back into her memory:
'Since you want to solve the problem with money, I don't object.'
'My official price is 1.08 billion. Half price for one night—540 million.'
Her ears burned with humiliation.
"And," Steve Han added gently, "the boss requests full payment in cash. No installments. No loans. No exceptions. I trust Miss Lan understands?"
Understand?
Understand, my ass!
She clenched her fists so tightly that the check crumpled.
"I refuse! I won't acknowledge this IOU! Tell your boss that I already tried to pay him this morning. He's the one who refused. It's too late now!"
This wasn't debt—
This was extortion!
Even if she sold the entire Lan family, she wouldn't be able to collect such an amount.
But Steve Han merely sighed, as though he had expected this outburst.
Without changing expression, he opened his briefcase and pulled out a sealed document bag.
"The boss instructed me to say that if Miss Lan prefers not to settle the matter privately, he is willing to meet you in court. King's Group's legal team will handle it. To them, this is a… very small case."
He emphasized that last part deliberately.
Her heart dropped into her stomach.
She didn't have a lawyer.
She didn't even have enough money to buy herself dinner tonight.
If this matter reached court—
It would be over.
She'd be torn apart by the media.
Mocked.
And be ruined completely.
Why was this man targeting her so viciously?
Hadn't she already suffered enough?
Her whole body shook as she gripped the lawyer's letter. She didn't even look at Steve Han again—she simply spun on her heel and ran.
Her fury gave her strength. She didn't think, didn't hesitate, didn't care who saw.
She shoved open the door to Room 303 and stormed inside.
"Fan Yujing! WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!"
Every head in the room turned.
And Fan Yujing—leaning lazily against the sofa, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a wine glass—slowly lifted his eyes to her.
The corner of his mouth curved upward.
A smug, wicked, utterly satisfied curl.
He glanced sideways at the men beside him, silently telling them:
You see?
I didn't need to chase her.
She came running back to me on her own.
*
Everyone in that room knew Fan Yujing's style all too well, but Lan Xia's fury still shocked them.
Yes, Fan Yujing was a devil when he wanted to be—but this was truly ruthless.
A few of them wanted to stay and watch the drama unfold, yet—
Old Master Fan suddenly stood up, threw on his coat, and glared at the group.
"Lao Wu, don't you have class tomorrow? Why are you still here? Game, Yi Yan—look at the time. Don't you all have work in the morning?"
His meaning was obvious: Out. Now.
The others exchanged looks, but under Old Master Fan's sharp glare, they reluctantly shuffled out of the private room.
In the end, only Fan Yujing and Lan Xia remained.
The chaotic noise outside faded, leaving the room quiet, dim, and suffocating.
Her anger, which had carried her here in a blaze, slowly drained away—only to be replaced by an uneasy nervousness.
This private room was meant for entertainment… for indulgence.
But now it held only the two of them, and she could feel the pressure in every breath.
Fan Yujing lounged on the sofa—long legs crossed, one hand lazily swirling the wine in his glass. His gaze drifted over her as if she were nothing more than a mildly interesting decoration.
"Miss Lan," he murmured, lips curving faintly, "did you call for me?"
So now he wanted to talk?
She swallowed the frustration rising in her throat.
"Mr. Fan… if I offended you in any way, I apologize." She forced the words out calmly, though her fingers trembled. "But… this IOU—please understand that I truly cannot repay it."
She placed the IOU and the document envelope on the table in front of him.
Her shoulders lowered. The fight left her posture.
She bowed—deeply, humbly—ninety degrees. Nothing like the proud heiress she once was.
"Thank you for your time. I'll be leaving now."
Fan Yujing's eyes narrowed slightly.
He hadn't expected this. Her ability to swallow her pride… to shift gears so quickly…
Interesting.
Most people either groveled from the beginning or puffed up with fake bravado.
But she—
She knew how to bow when she had no choice.
The wine in his glass shimmered.
"Tell me," he said slowly, "is there some universal rule that says I must help you just because you ask?"
His tone sharpened.
"I don't like charity. If I give something, I expect equal exchange."
She clenched her teeth so tightly her jaw ached.
This was a trap. She knew it.
But she had no way out.
Her voice trembled despite her attempt to steady it. "What… can I give you that equals this amount?"
Fan Yujing lifted his eyes.
"What do you think, Miss Lan?"
She froze.
His gaze…
That familiar, unreadable heat.
A memory flashed—broken, blurred, drunken—but it was him.
The stranger in the hotel room.
The man whose lips she had kissed in a daze.
She had started everything that night.
And now… now he wanted her to finish what she began.
Her heart twisted painfully.
She had already fallen once—what difference did a second time make?
Her lips curved in a bitter, self-mocking smile.
Her fingernails dug into her palm as she took a slow step toward him.
Then another.
Finally, she knelt lightly beside the sofa, lowering herself as if offering a tribute.
Her hand rose shakily to his chest—feeling the warmth through his shirt.
She leaned closer, offering her lips.
His chest moved beneath her palm—just slightly, almost imperceptibly.
Was he… nervous?
The thought was almost laughable.
He was Fan Yujing.
The high and untouchable emperor of King's Group.
Women would line up for miles to throw themselves into his bed.
And she...
She was nothing now.
Nothing at all.