**Chapter 20: A Wildfire in the Heart**
“Under the Night Sky” was the grandest pleasure venue in Deep City—and also the most mysterious. Opulent and dazzling on the outside, the massive building stood at the end of the city’s most bustling night district, evoking memories of indulgence and decadence akin to the ten-mile foreign settlements of old.
It only opened two nights a week, otherwise completely deserted.
Every Thursday and Saturday, at precisely ten minutes past midnight, the place would open its doors. Guests had to undergo strict screening before entry.
Ironically, this exclusivity only increased people’s eagerness to get in and see for themselves.
Qin Mang had been well-protected since childhood and strictly managed by her uncle. She rarely came to places like this.
Inside the sprawling venue, everything was soaked in a glamorous haze of alcohol and temptation. Shadows flickered through the space, filled with the lure of spirits, smoke, and indulgence.
“This bar’s so ridiculously flashy—no wonder your brother’s making a killing.”
That was the first thing Qin Mang said as she entered behind Wu Yuxi.
This place belonged to Wu Yuxi’s older brother, Wu Yuan, which was the only reason she could sneak Qin Mang in through the back.
“Hehehe, the theme tonight is a masquerade! Otherwise, I wouldn’t have dared to bring you. Quick, put on a mask. Even though photos aren’t allowed here, people gossip. You’re a red-hot celebrity now!” Wu Yuxi personally helped her put on a black peacock-feather mask.
In a richly colored qipao that hugged her graceful figure, Qin Mang stepped into the main venue.
She looked like a blinding ray of sunlight falling into a kaleidoscopic cocktail.
Only her porcelain chin was visible beneath the mask. Her red lips curled in a subtle, poised smile—composed and natural, like a seasoned visitor to such nightlife.
Wu Yuxi was stunned.
Qin Mang glanced around lazily. “Where are those fresh-faced pretty boys you promised?”
“Didn’t you say there’d be a new model performance tonight?”
By “models,” she wasn’t referring to the usual kind—these were male models, newly recruited.
Compared to Qin Mang’s calm demeanor, Wu Yuxi’s earlier excitement began to fade, her rational side kicking in—especially after hearing her friend talk so casually about looking for pretty boys.
Her mind involuntarily conjured an image of Qin Mang’s husband’s cold, striking face. She shivered. It felt like she was aiding and abetting a married woman in hiring… escorts. The guilt was real.
“Aren’t you afraid of Master He…?”
“There are rumors… that his temper isn’t exactly mild…”
Wu Yuxi had only met He Lingji up close once, as a bridesmaid at Qin Mang’s wedding.
She had been too intimidated to say a word to him.
Her knowledge of him came solely from rumors—and from Qin Mang’s stories.
“Afraid of him?” Qin Mang casually leaned on the bar and ordered a drink, a cold chuckle curling at the edge of her red lips. Her eyes, seductive and dazzling beneath the mask, lifted slowly.
“He won’t act with me, so I have to find someone else.”
Otherwise, how would she win Best Actress?
As for seeing a doctor?
She wasn’t sick! Why should she see one?
Thinking of Tao Qin’s explanation earlier that day, Qin Mang’s cold smile deepened.
He Lingji may look elegant and aloof, but at his core, he was domineering and controlling. He never asked her what she wanted—he just assumed she did.
No wonder he agreed so quickly last night.
It was just another transaction.
“Maybe he’s just worried about your health?” Wu Yuxi offered weakly.
Qin Mang reached out and touched her forehead. “Xigua, are you okay? Talking nonsense now?”
“Our dear President He insists on exactly 6.49 hours of sleep every day. If I wake him up in the middle of the night for two hours of ‘business,’ his sleep gets seriously disrupted.”
Worried about her?
Absolutely not.
He was just afraid of her messing with his sleep schedule.
That “business” was loaded with implication.
Wu Yuxi, the queen of risqué humor, instantly understood.
“Whoa! Gotta hand it to Master He—two hours each time?”
Qin Mang had just taken a big swig of her cocktail and nearly choked.
“…Compared to my five minutes, his two hours…”
It *was* a bit excessive.
No—*way* too excessive!
He overshadowed her in every way.
The more she thought about it, the angrier she got.
And there weren’t even any fresh-faced pretty boys to make up for it!
Wu Yuxi cleared her throat. “Just wait a bit longer.”
Meanwhile, on the fifth floor, inside a semi-private lounge.
From here, you could overlook the entire ground floor, yet from below, only the elegant railings were visible. The lounge itself remained completely hidden, like a space separated from reality—debauchery below, serenity above.
This was where the owner resided.
Two very different men sat face-to-face, a chessboard between them.
Compared to the calculated strategy of Go, where all pieces clash directly, Western chess was more about conquest.
It was Wu Yuan’s favorite pastime.
Just then, someone came upstairs and whispered into Wu Yuan’s ear.
He didn’t linger. A quick word and he left.
The room returned to silence.
A few seconds later—
“What did you do to anger that little lioness again? She’s specifically asking for fresh, handsome male models. You two immortals clashing like this—can’t you leave my humble little venue out of it?” Wu Yuan raised a glass of wine, teasing.
That “humble little venue” was false modesty.
After all, Wu Yuan was considered the king of Deep City’s underground world, second only to He Lingji in the business realm.
This venue had been eyed by countless factions for years and still stood tall in the city’s most coveted district.
He had invited He Lingji over personally.
Unlike Wu Yuxi, he couldn’t just stand by while Qin Mang stirred up trouble here.
She wasn’t the same as before.
She now belonged under the protective wing of the man sitting across from him. If something happened to her here, the Wu family couldn’t afford the consequences.
So while he’d promised his sister to help find a male model for Qin Mang, he immediately called over the man who made male models irrelevant.
Behind the bead curtain, pale light outlined He Lingji’s cool, refined features. He twirled a king chess piece between his long, elegant fingers, seemingly nonchalant.
“Little lioness with a temper,” Wu Yuan said.
He imagined her puffed-up, fuming expression.
The nickname fit.
“Male models?” He Lingji’s thin lips parted, the two words echoing with layered meaning.
Wu Yuan fiddled with his lighter, failing to light it twice before tossing it aside. “We welcome all kinds here—male and female entertainers alike.”
“Time’s about right, too,” he added, opening the soundproof glass door.
Suddenly, the once-quiet lounge filled with the roar of excitement from below.
He placed a half-face white peacock-feather mask on the chessboard.
Ignoring the scattered pieces, he pushed the mask toward He Lingji. “There’s no problem between husband and wife that a little game can’t solve.”
“Especially with our little lioness Qin Mang.”
“She *loves* stimulation.”
*Clatter—*
The chess pieces toppled over with the sound.
The way Wu Yuan spoke about Qin Mang—
He Lingji finally looked up, cold and indifferent. “Your little lioness?”
“Yours, yours,” Wu Yuan rolled his eyes.
So much for the mysterious atmosphere he was going for.
No wonder Qin Mang wanted to find some fresh-faced boy toys.
Young women liked their thrills. He Lingji, always so aloof and detached, clearly wasn’t the type to indulge her whims.
No wonder Wu Yuan didn’t have high hopes for their arranged marriage.
Given Qin Mang’s personality and youth, it wouldn’t be surprising if she regretted the impulsive decision once she met someone she truly liked.
But—
Wu Yuan swirled his wine and noticed He Lingji pick up the mask.
If this high-and-mighty man really had feelings for the little lioness, then perhaps…
He Lingji held the mask, veins faintly visible on the back of his hand, every inch of him exuding privilege and restrained detachment. Even the extravagant peacock feathers seemed touched with an otherworldly grace.
…
Qin Mang had already downed three drinks.
Though she could hold her liquor, her black eyes were starting to glaze over.
“Where are the people?” she mumbled.
Wu Yuxi turned to the assistant her brother had sent and urged him, “Where are they?”
Assistant Yang, just having received the message, replied immediately, “Waiting on the fifth floor.”
**Fifth floor?**
Wu Yuxi was a bit confused. Wasn’t that her brother’s territory?
Assistant Yang explained, “Didn’t Miss Qin say she wanted to rehearse a scene with someone? It’s too noisy down here, so President Wu specifically cleared out the fifth floor.”
Some people were already having the time of their lives.
They were dancing intimately in the center of the stage.
Especially since this was a masquerade ball—no one could recognize anyone—everyone was enjoying themselves even more.
They had been here for an hour. Given her usual popularity, she’d normally have a stack of contact info by now.
But this time, not a single one.
The two of them were sitting at the bar, and even three meters away, no one approached—not even anyone passing by.
Qin Mang thoughtfully took a sip of the cocktail specially made by the bartender. The mix of apple brandy and herbs exploded in her mouth, clearing her mind a bit.
At that moment, Assistant Yang stretched out his arm gracefully. “The ‘male model’ is already waiting on the fifth floor.”
“Miss Qin, this way, please.”
When mentioning the “male model,” Assistant Yang, known for his perfect expression control, twitched for half a second.
Qin Mang didn’t pay attention to him. She lowered her gaze to the cocktail she had just sipped, unwilling to waste it.
After a brief moment of thought,
She decisively carried the drink into the elevator. The amber liquid shimmered under the light, with a round, glossy black cherry floating inside, casting a magical glow.
The elevator took her straight to the fifth floor.
Qin Mang stepped out in her high heels, gracefully pushed open the half-closed glass door, and her slender silhouette stretched under the lighting.
Wu Yuxi was about to follow.
But the next second, someone grabbed her arm.
*Bang.*
She watched helplessly as the door closed right in front of her.
“Brother?”
“What are you doing here?”
Wu Yuxi stumbled a little,
Turning her head to see the tall, familiar figure standing there. His fox-like eyes scanned her up and down, and suddenly she got alarmed: “Don’t tell me… the male model is you?”
No wonder something felt off about this place today.
None of the usual club vibes!
Wu Yuan recalled the cocktail Qin Mang had held earlier.
The corners of his lips lifted slightly.
This business marriage couple… really was something.
Then his silly sister spoke again, “Who’s her husband?”
“He Lingshi,” he replied.
“Who’s He Lingshi?”
Wu Yuxi was stunned. “He Lingshi is Qin Mang’s husband.”
Wu Yuan: Forget it. Dumb or not, she’s still my sister.
“He Lingshi is a top figure in Deep City. If he wanted, he could control everyone’s future.”
“Qin Mang is his legally wedded wife, the future matriarch of the He family. And you brought her here to meet a male model for fun? Are you out of your mind?”
Good thing he showed up today.
Otherwise, he wouldn’t have known what ridiculous thing his dumb sister had done.
He Lingshi probably wouldn’t do anything to Qin Mang,
But their Wu family might not be so lucky.
Wu Yuxi quickly looked at the tightly closed glass door.
Special material—it was soundproof and one-way. You could see out from the inside, but not the other way around.
“Hiss hiss hiss hiss…”
“Are you cosplaying a snake demon today?”
“So that means—”
“The ‘male model’ inside is Mr. He?!”
“Ahhhh! That’s so romantic!”
“Oh my god, oh my god, He Lingshi is totally in love!”
“I want to watch the male model and female client play out a scene!”
Wu Yuan thought maybe he was just getting old—he had no idea what these young people were thinking.
He recognized every word, but couldn’t understand a thing they were saying when put together.
Finally, he dragged his silly sister—who was about to try peeking through the door—away.
With that special glass,
Even if she removed her ears, she still wouldn’t hear anything from inside.
—
When the door suddenly closed, Qin Mang was slightly surprised, but quickly turned around with calm ease.
Through the lavish bead curtain, her gaze landed on the tall figure sitting on a black sofa not far away, wearing a half-face mask adorned with peacock feathers.
The military-style uniform exuded an overwhelming aura.
The white feathers looked especially cold and pure, setting off his unique gray-blue eyes—calm and detached, like a cold deity on a high pedestal, untouched by the mortal world.
He Lingshi’s gaze swept lightly over her black feathered mask.
Her red lips, beneath the decadent mask, appeared even more striking and luscious.
“Male model?”
Qin Mang walked over with her drink, her voice slow and slightly hoarse from the alcohol. Two words spilled out with ambiguous meaning.
“Or… cosplay?”
“Hm, Wu Yuan really knows me.”
The same military outfit—
Worn on Jiang Hengyan, it did nothing for her.
But on this man, even with a mask, it made her heart—
Flutter.
She hated that lack of control.
Especially when she was losing control, and the other person remained above it all, unshaken.
She wanted to melt glaciers, freeze fire, and bring down gods from their pedestals.
So, Qin Mang brushed aside the bead curtain.
The glimmering strings swayed with a crisp, chaotic sound like light gauze wrapping the space.
As she leaned in, one hand braced on the man’s knee to steady herself, the other raised the amber drink to his lips, tilting it slightly.
When his lips were stained with the liquor,
Qin Mang leaned close to his ear and whispered: “Do you know what this cocktail is called?”
The next second, her red lips slowly curled as she enunciated in elegant English:
**“Widow’s Kiss.”**
Then her bright, beautiful face broke into a mischievous smile, like a child who just pulled a successful prank.
He Lingshi leaned back slightly, his icy gaze unmoved. Instead, he calmly held her delicate wrist so she wouldn’t spill the nearly full drink.
“Cooled off?”
His voice was low and cold, like he wasn’t the least bit ruffled by her little trick.
Which made Qin Mang even more frustrated.
She sneered, then slammed the glass down onto the table with a *bang*.
Ripples formed on the surface, a bit of the liquid splashing out.
She picked up the cherry that had been soaking in the drink and bit into it as if she were biting someone’s flesh.
Expressionless: “No.”
“Why won’t you see a doctor?”
He Lingshi still hadn’t removed his white feather mask, asking a question that had nothing to do with the flirtatious atmosphere.
“Your constitution is different.”
Qin Mang frowned, released his wrist, and lazily collapsed into the opposite sofa with no hint of warmth in her tone:
“Seeing a doctor won’t help. I was born this way.”
As a child, because her body temperature was higher than normal, her uncle took her to countless top hospitals, both domestic and abroad.
Every diagnosis said the same: she was born this way, but it wouldn’t affect her health.
Most of her childhood memories were of hospitals with different styles.
So now, even just seeing one made her instinctively reject it.
The man’s fingers rested on the edge of his mask, his expression unreadable.
He asked a few more questions.
Qin Mang wanted to rebel a little.
But under his gaze, she gave up.
Forget it.
It was more important to make him give up the idea of dragging her to a hospital.
So she insisted she was really fine.
A few minutes later.
He Lingshi was too boring.
So boring that Qin Mang felt even her mask had become meaningless. She raised her hand to take it off—
“Put it back on.”
Unexpectedly, He Lingshi slowly looked up and said flatly, completely unrelated to their previous topic.
Qin Mang’s hand froze mid-air.
She felt like she couldn’t keep up with this man’s rhythm.
This mask was supposed to be part of a flirty game.
But he sat there like a stoic doctor doing a clinical check-up—completely restrained and proper. Now he wouldn’t even let her take the mask off. What was that supposed to mean?
Only then did Qin Mang realize—he hadn’t taken his off either.
The white peacock feather mask still hung by his face, as indifferent as always.
“Aren’t we rehearsing a scene?”
He Lingshi picked up the drink resting on the script and asked slowly, “Changed your mind?”
So sudden?
Qin Mang followed his motion and saw the script.
The one she’d accidentally left in his car earlier.
He’d brought the whole thing.
And “changed your mind” made it sound like she was some coward who backed down at the first sign of trouble.
“Right is right. Who’s afraid of whom!”
“Right!”
In the dim lighting, the girl’s red lips and snowy-white skin echoed his concise, forceful style.
She had specially worn a delicate, sheer silk qipao that afternoon and hadn’t changed out of it.
Perfect.
They were both already in costume.
He Lingji casually flipped through the script. His well-proportioned fingers, clean and defined, were so striking that they made the otherwise ordinary script seem refined and aloof.
He lit a cigarette. His long, jade-like fingers toyed lazily with a metal lighter, his movements unhurried yet exuding authority.
His slightly open coat revealed a shirt with several buttons undone underneath, exuding a wild, masculine allure. Yet the ornate feathered mask on his face brought an air of cold elegance—a stark contrast.
In that moment, Qin Mang was completely pulled into the world of *Dreams of Old Beijing*.
“So what if it hides behind the law? The crime etched into its very bones will never be erased.”
Qin Mang had already memorized the script by heart and instantly recognized that line—it was from the play.
The male and female leads were discussing how to expose the crimes of an utterly evil villain.
That line was a classic quote from the script.
She hadn’t expected him to dive in so directly.
Then, he tossed the lighter to her.
According to the script, the female lead should catch the lighter tossed by the male lead, light her cigarette, and continue the scene while smoking.
But—
The metal lighter had a peculiar mechanism. Qin Mang fumbled with it for a while and still couldn’t figure it out.
She looked up. “Why won’t it light?”
He Lingji’s gaze swept across her fingertips, his expression subtly darkening for a brief moment. “Maybe it’s broken.”
“Broken?”
But she had clearly seen him light it earlier.
Qin Mang quickly realized—He Lingji wasn’t improvising by accident. He was *freestyling*!
As a professional actress, she couldn’t lose.
Even if the scene had now completely veered off course, Qin Mang held the cigarette with her slender fingers, turned her gaze toward him, and flicked the tip. “Then how am I supposed to light it?”
She threw the challenge back at him.
Let’s see how He Lingji would respond.
The man, still masked in lavish feathers, revealed the sharp and smooth contours of the lower half of his face. His lips curled ever so slightly.
Suddenly, He Lingji reached out and pulled the unlit cigarette from her fingertips.
Qin Mang instinctively opened her mouth, just about to say, “What are you—”
Before she could finish, He Lingji had already slipped the cigarette between her lips, cutting her off.
Surprise flashed in her limpid eyes. Her teeth reflexively bit down on the unlit cigarette, her lips now dewy—like a cherry soaked in amber-colored cocktail—glossy, tempting, and seductive, as if begging to be kissed.
The next moment—
He Lingji brought his own lit cigarette to hers. The burning tip touched the unlit one. In the instant they met, sparks flared up and smoke curled, as though igniting a wildfire at the tip of one’s heart.
His voice was low and indistinct, like a god murmuring softly, but his words were intoxicatingly seductive:
“Like this.”
You can find the complete translated novel in the link below
