Wen Man was a renowned glamorous “red rose” in the entertainment industry, but because she refused to become a canary in a gilded cage, she was blacklisted. She could only settle for being a lukewarm, third-tier actress.
During a fashion event, she sat slumped under a plane tree in a state of disarray, looking both miserable and strikingly beautiful.
The man who only ever appeared on the covers of business magazines stood before her. Refined and prestigious, he asked in a deep voice, “Do you need help?”
Later, Wen Man learned that the man was the top billionaire entrepreneur, Wen Yanchuan. She closed her eyes slightly and instinctively tried to distance herself from him.
Wen Yanchuan had always believed he possessed excellent self-control.
But when they met again, she was charming in her bashful anger, her red dress amidst the falling snow like a rose in a night garden.
The man’s eyes lowered. She was different from what he had seen in advertisements. He lightly rested his hand on the “rose’s” waist and asked, “Why aren’t you wearing the one from last time?”
Wen Man couldn’t figure out Wen Yanchuan’s intentions. The ambiguity between them felt fleeting, so she turned to flee.
Wen Yanchuan pressed the soft woman against his chest, looking down as he said softly, “Are you hiding from me?”
Wen Man bit her lip. Smelling the familiar scent of cedar, her eyes reddened, but she remained stubborn: “I am not a dodder flower, and I certainly don’t want to be Mr. Wen’s canary.”
Wen Yanchuan sighed, moved by a woman for the first time in thirty years.
“Wen Man, we are both adults. I’m older and I don’t like saying sweet nothings, but how can you not understand?”
Wen Man looked up, meeting Wen Yanchuan’s warm and doting eyes.
“I never keep dodder flowers.” Wen Yanchuan leaned down and captured Wen Man’s lips, his voice deep: “What I mean is, we are lovers.”
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