Chapter 2 Stuck

Song Mi had no intention of removing her sunglasses.

It wasn’t because she was afraid he’d recognize her at a glance.

The makeup she’d worn that night was crafted by her own hand; even her own mother wouldn’t have recognized her instantly.

She still remembered how, during the process, the man had tried several times to coax her into the bathroom, but she skillfully deflected his advances each time, afraid that water might ruin her makeup.

Distracted, she accepted the business card, her movements unhurried and graceful. Song Mi lowered her gaze and spoke softly, “Attorney Wen?”

It was a half-finished question, said without looking at him—rude, however you heard it.

Yet the man seemed entirely unfazed by her indifference. He didn’t hurry to respond, standing in place for a moment to make sure she had nothing further to say, then nodded slightly and turned to leave.

Watching his tall figure retreat, Song Mi narrowed her eyes, lingering on the sight.

…

By the time she returned to the hotel, it was already past four in the afternoon. Song Mi was temporarily staying in the presidential suite on the forty-eighth floor.

Guests in the presidential suite had a dedicated elevator, but she hadn’t expected it to stop midway—and even less expected to find the person waiting outside was the very man she’d just met.

What intrigued her was that he had no intention of greeting her.

This piqued her interest.

When the man turned and stood still, Song Mi curled her red lips into a slight, careless smile, cool and sharp. “Is this how Attorney Wen usually treats his clients?”

The man was about to press the button for his floor, but after pausing, he returned her tone with three words, “Miss Song?”

It was a clear retort to her earlier “Attorney Wen?”

Tit for tat, indeed.

Not someone easily intimidated.

But neither was she, so she replied with an unexpected twist, “That’s me!”

“Song Mi.” With that, she raised her hand and removed her sunglasses.

The sudden reveal of her full face startled the man. His first impression was of fair skin.

Fair as spring snow.

A classic oval face, probably not even as big as his palm, a pointed chin, and a neck with a graceful curve.

By his estimation, it was close to the golden ratio.

Song Mi didn’t miss a single subtle change in the man’s expression, but she found nothing revealing.

“Wen Yanli,” he replied, his thin lips curving slightly as he gave his name.

After that, both fell silent, as if their earlier verbal sparring had never happened.

The elevator ascended slowly. Out of the corner of her eye, Song Mi noticed he’d pressed a floor just one below hers.

Clang—

Suddenly, the elevator ground to a halt, the lights went out, and everything plunged into darkness. The floor display, the emergency call buttons—all disappeared.

This was… the thirtieth floor, perhaps?

The elevator was stuck, unmoving!

In that instant, Song Mi was so shocked she forgot to breathe.

The man beside her said nothing.

A long moment passed before Song Mi turned her head ever so slightly and asked, “Do you have any signal on your phone?”

As soon as she finished speaking, Wen Yanli’s phone screen lit up. “No.”

And once again, silence fell between them.

Thirty floors up—if the elevator suddenly plummeted, it would mean certain death.

In the darkness, Song Mi’s mind raced wildly.

She didn’t know how much time had passed, but she began to feel dizzy, her heart fluttering and her breath short.

“Hang in there!” In the darkness, the man’s steady voice betrayed not a hint of panic.

Inexplicably, Song Mi felt she had to confide something—after all, their fates were now intertwined. “Attorney Wen, my legs are numb…”