Volume One, Chapter 20: Isn't It Because of Your "Prior Record"?

Thousands of strands of crystal beads hung from the ballroom’s dome, scattering delicate glimmers beneath the lights. In a corner, the champagne tower radiated an amber halo while waiters wove in and out among the guests.

Heaven on Earth was far more than a simple bar—it was a luxurious venue combining banquet halls, a hotel, and auction rooms all in one. Rumor had it that the interior alone had cost half a billion, making it the most extravagant place in the capital.

The waltz resounded throughout the grand hall.

Bian Xunzhou’s voice was low, drawing her into the dance floor. “Come.”

“All right…” Wen Xuyu’s mind returned from its reverie, her words lost amid the flowing strains of the waltz.

“No need to be nervous, just follow me,” Bian Xunzhou said, noticing her uneasy expression. His thin lips parted, his tone carrying a hint of reassurance.

Without further ado, his fingers firmly clasped hers. The coolness of his touch sent a tremor through Wen Xuyu’s heart.

Qiao Wanyun lifted a glass of red wine from a waiter’s tray, swirling it as she propped her chin in her hand, watching the scene with a meaningful gaze.

“Oh, Bian Xunzhou, you truly are a profit-driven businessman—willing to use even your own wife. I wonder if you’ll regret it someday,” she murmured under her breath.

Suddenly, the lights over the dance floor dimmed, leaving only a few spotlights drifting across the room.

Bian Xunzhou held Wen Xuyu’s right hand in his, his other hand gently resting at her waist.

She could feel the warmth of his palm seeping through the thin fabric of her gown.

“Relax,” he whispered at her ear, sensing her tension, guiding her in time with the music.

At first, Wen Xuyu’s steps were awkward—she nearly stepped on his polished shoes more than once—but soon, she found her rhythm.

A flicker of interest passed through Bian Xunzhou’s eyes. She wasn’t entirely unskilled; on the contrary, she danced rather well, as if she’d learned before.

With a close movement, her nose almost brushed his collar, a faint scent of cedar mingling with the richness of whiskey filling her senses.

Around them, the guests gradually ceased their conversations, their eyes drawn to the dazzling pair in the center.

By the staircase on the second floor, Madam Qiao stood with a foreign gentleman, both raising their glasses in lively conversation.

The foreigner appeared about fifty, antique watch chain at his cuff, a black onyx ring on his left pinky. Though his temples were dusted with gray, his posture was upright, exuding the dignified authority earned with time.

“Have a wonderful evening, Mr. Jobs,” Madam Qiao said warmly.

“Of course,” Jobs replied with a smile, his gaze passing over the crowd to rest appreciatively on the couple in the center of the dance floor.

“That gentleman and lady dance a fine waltz. My wife and I used to love this piece as well.”

“Is that so?” Madam Qiao responded with a smile, her wise eyes flickering with a trace of worry.

“You know that gentleman too—he’s President Bian of the Bian Group. Beside him is his wife, Wen Xuyu.”

“So that’s who it is.” Mr. Jobs sighed in admiration. “They suit each other well—talented gentleman and beautiful lady, a perfect match, as you would say.”

As he spoke, his eyes caught a hint of green, prompting a murmur of amazement.

“That bracelet is tonight’s finale at the auction? I heard it fetched two hundred million—President Bian must truly care for his wife.”

Madam Qiao smiled without reply.

The opening dance was brief. In the final dip, Bian Xunzhou’s arm supported her waist, their faces mere inches apart.

Wen Xuyu could see herself reflected in his eyes.

The hall erupted in applause and cheers.

With practiced strength, Bian Xunzhou lifted her, and together they offered a perfect bow.

Other guests began to take the floor, savoring the beautiful moment with their partners.

“You danced well,” Bian Xunzhou remarked as he led her to the lounge.

Wen Xuyu looked up, meeting his downward gaze. The lighting cast shadows across his sharply defined features, accentuating his perfect jawline.

“Thank you for the compliment,” she replied, forcing a smile, shifting her ankle uncomfortably.

These new high heels pinched—she hadn’t noticed while dancing, but now a dull ache throbbed at her heel, likely blistered raw.

“Did you hurt your foot?”

Without warning, Bian Xunzhou crouched before her, pushing aside the layers of her elaborate gown, gently taking her slender calf and carefully removing the shoe.

Her once fair skin was now red and swollen, streaked with blood.

Wen Xuyu started in surprise, watching his movements, the more she thought, the stranger it seemed. Bian Xunzhou was being unusually attentive tonight.

When something so out of character happened, one should be wary—she would have to be careful.

Before she could react, Bian Xunzhou beckoned Lu Zhao over, murmuring something to him before the latter hurried off.

He then called for a waiter, requesting cotton swabs and iodine.

“Wait,” Wen Xuyu grasped his arm, her brows knitting. “There’s no need to trouble yourself. I can wait until after the banquet to take care of it.”

This was a lounge, not a secluded place.

Bian Xunzhou glanced up, apparently reading her thoughts.

“What, afraid I’ll carry you out again?”

She avoided his gaze, coughing lightly. “…No, I just don’t want to bother you.”

A soft, sardonic laugh escaped him, but he didn’t argue. He crouched once more, tending to her wound with gentle care.

The moment the iodine touched her skin, pain flared and Wen Xuyu instinctively tried to pull away, but his grip held her still.

“Don’t move—it’ll be over soon.”

Her hands clenched and released at her sides as she looked down at him.

From her vantage point, his back was sleek and well-toned, his trim waist and the subtle muscles beneath the suit evidence of regular training.

But did men truly have such perfect waist-to-hip ratios?

She found herself momentarily entranced.

“Staring at my body—does it excite you?” Bian Xunzhou tossed the cotton swab into the bin, standing to wipe his hands with a moist towelette, his movements casual and languid.

Wen Xuyu snapped back to herself, heat flooding her cheeks.

What had she been thinking? Bian Xunzhou, with his foul temper, was hardly a nightclub gigolo—how could she entertain such absurd curiosity?

“No,” she replied, anxious her denial might sound unconvincing. In a moment of flustered inspiration, she beckoned him closer.

A shadow flickered in his eyes, yet he leaned toward her.

“Your tie’s a little crooked,” she said, straightening up and reaching out to adjust it with exaggerated care.

He bent slightly to accommodate her, his deep black eyes observing her fluttering lashes and tightly pressed lips.

“There, it’s fine now,” Wen Xuyu said, lifting her gaze to meet his—and in that instant, the surrounding clamor seemed to fall silent.

When Lu Zhao returned, this was the scene he witnessed.

He stood awkwardly, a shopping bag dangling from his hand, unsure whether to approach or wait.

Suddenly, a conversation nearby broke their brief interlude.

“Look at them—their affection is genuine,” Madam Qiao said, having arrived with Mr. Jobs in tow.

“Indeed,” Mr. Jobs agreed with a friendly jest. “I never imagined President Bian could be so gentle with his wife—it doesn’t quite match his usual demeanor.”

Before Wen Xuyu could gather her thoughts, Bian Xunzhou had already retrieved a pair of pure white slippers from Lu Zhao’s bag.

“Put them on.”

And with a meaningful glance, as if to “retaliate” for her earlier suspicion, Bian Xunzhou added, “Tonight, I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed.”

Wen Xuyu pressed her lips together, shooting him a covert glare.

Who’s disappointed here? Well, you do have a record, after all.