Chap 1: Echoes of Winter

After its recent renovation, the Lax Club had its grand reopening. During its first week, it hosted a high-profile wedding banquet for the son of the Huasheng Group's chairman. The parking lot was filled with luxury cars, resembling an extravagant car show.

Inside the main building, the banquet hall was alive with laughter and chatter, primarily from business associates of both families. In stark contrast, the entertainment box in the adjacent building was eerily quiet.

Most of the staff were busy in the main hall, leaving only a new waitress at the front desk. Bored, she idly played with her cell phone.

Suddenly, a gust of cold wind swept in, causing the young woman at the desk to shiver and glare at the source of the chill.

A tall, slender girl dressed in white, carrying a heavy black bag, entered through the door. The strong wind caused her to struggle with the door, pulling it open wider and dragging her inside.

The glass door slammed against the wall with a loud bang. The girl stumbled, trying to regain her balance, and glanced apologetically in the direction of the front desk. Her amber eyes were wide and slightly dazed, her fair skin flushed by the cold, and her long black hair billowed around her like seaweed.

Despite her irritation, the young waitress, reminded of her professional role, only pouted quietly. The cold air felt like an icy blade, and she resisted the urge to curse.

The girl managed to push the door shut against the wind, and the hall fell silent as the warmth returned. The young waitress, observing the black bag with curiosity, thought the girl resembled a character from a film. As she prepared to greet her, the girl handed over a small notebook with a polite smile.

"This is my ID. I've already contacted your manager."

The young waitress reluctantly accepted it, her curiosity piqued by the ID photo: Zhen Nuan. The profession listed was forensic doctor.

Puzzled, the young waitress wondered why someone so seemingly delicate would choose such a profession. She glanced at the black bag and asked, "Our manager didn't specify. Which room is it?"

"307."

The young waitress frowned. "There are guests in Room 307. Please wait."

"Guests?" Zhen Nuan smoothed her wind-tousled hair, perplexed. "The evidence in that room hasn't been cleared yet. How can it be occupied?"

"I don’t know; you should ask the manager," the young waitress said, scratching her ear. The wedding’s guests were in the most luxurious box, so she wasn't inclined to prioritize Zhen Nuan’s request.

Without further comment, Zhen Nuan ascended the stairs. The corridors were dark and quiet, resembling a tunnel. Room 307’s door was ajar, with noise and conversation spilling out.

Zhen Nuan knocked gently and waited, but the room’s occupants were too engrossed in their activities to notice. She pushed the door open slightly. Inside, the room was dimly lit, with a chandelier casting a soft glow over a dozen people gathered around a table, engaged in a card game.

The room buzzed with excitement as people discussed the game and encouraged the players. One individual, however, remained silent, observing with a bemused smile. His high nose bridge and dark eye sockets were the only visible features, as the shadows obscured the rest of his face.

Despite only seeing half of him, his striking appearance was undeniable. Zhen Nuan knocked again, but the noise and clamor drowned out her efforts.

Embarrassed and unsure, she hesitated, then decided to knock more firmly. As the man’s eyelashes flickered and he lifted his gaze, the light illuminated his eyes, making them sparkle. Zhen Nuan felt an unexpected pang of emotion.

The man’s smile widened as he spread out his cards and laid them on the table, drawing admiring exclamations from the room. The atmosphere was filled with applause and excitement, overshadowing Zhen Nuan’s persistent knocking.

"Yan Han wins again," someone announced.

The room's energy shifted, and Yan Han’s confident demeanor was evident. The thrill of winning was palpable, drawing enthusiastic comments from the onlookers.

Zhen Nuan, feeling out of place, decided to wait outside. Her phone vibrated with a call from her colleague, Guan Xiaoyu.

"Nuan Nuan, I’m sorry. It’s not Room 307; it’s Room 107."

"...No problem, Sloppy Ghost," Zhen Nuan replied, relieved. She left for Room 107 immediately.

As she descended the stairs, a waiter offered her a glass of water. Zhen Nuan accepted it but, sensing something was off, discarded the cup once the waiter had left.

In Room 307, the card game continued, with players analyzing their hands. Yan Han leaned back, a lazy, confident smile on his face.

"No more playing," he said, rising. "I’m going to accompany the prince to study."

A girl joked about when Yan Han would marry, prompting laughter and light-hearted teasing among the group. Yan Han, always charming, responded with a grin.

"Wait for you to get married first," he teased, drawing more laughter.

He left the room, his smile fading as he contemplated the winter weather outside.

Yan Han walked to the stairs and looked out at the gloomy, windy, and rainy day through the glass window. The smile on his face slowly faded until there was no trace of it left.

It’s winter again.

Is she cold out there?

It must be freezing underground.

He stood alone for a few seconds, forcing a smile before it gradually returned. As he descended the stairs, he reached into his pocket to pull out a cigarette, but his cell phone rang. He answered the call and continued to the first floor. A waiter on duty pushed open the corridor door, which Yan Han thought led to the main building, so he walked over.

He chatted pleasantly with the caller, and before he realized it, several minutes had passed, and he had reached the corner of the corridor. While talking and laughing, he looked up and saw a long-haired girl standing at the entrance of the dimly lit stairwell.

She had her back to him, her head bowed as she struggled to fasten a necklace. Her long hair was pulled to one side, revealing her slender white neck and a pink ear, soft and hazy in the dim light.

Yan Han, still on the phone, approached her. She had her hands behind her neck, grappling with the clasp of the necklace.

Yan Han, chatting and laughing with the person on the phone, tilted his head to hold the phone on his shoulder. He then reached out to help with the tiny clasp.

Zhen Nuan’s neck was sore, and just as she was about to give up and put the necklace away, a pair of warm and slightly rough hands gently took the clasp from her. The touch felt distinctly masculine.

Startled, Zhen Nuan felt the heat from his hand move from her hand to her neck. The fingertips were warm and rough.

The person behind her seemed to be laughing casually. A faint, deep, and magnetic voice murmured, “Hmm?” It resonated in the ambiguous corridor.

Confused, Zhen Nuan looked back in a daze.

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