The silver fuselage sliced through thirty thousand feet of stratosphere.

Outside the window, the Eurasian continent slept deeply.

Moonlight spread over the clouds, casting a silvery-gray sheen like a boundless sea.

At the farthest end of the cabin, this small bedroom seemed cut off from the rest of the world.

Ouyang Xianyue was pinned against the dressing table by Tang Song.

Her back pressed to the cool mirrored surface, his scorching chest pressing against her front.

The clash of hot and cold sent shivers through her entire body.

Her expensive silk pajamas hung loose and slack on her.

Her snow-white, supple skin gleamed seductively in the dim light, rising and falling sharply with her rapid breaths.

Not far away on the big bed, a drunken Xu Qing slept restlessly, clutching the quilt and muttering in her sleep, turning over from time to time.

Every little movement tightened Ouyang Xianyue’s whole body.

She bit her lower lip, fine beads of sweat seeping from her forehead.

That face, always dignified and graceful, forever measured and composed, was now utterly shattered.

Grace had been trampled, restraint overthrown, leaving only a coquettishness born from the tangled knots of desire, indulgence, and shame.

It was a side of her Tang Song had never seen before.

Combined with the way her body was ripe and her widow status, a deadly sense of contrast formed,

stirring in him an unprecedented urge to destroy.

He leaned close to her ear, breath tinged with alcohol, and murmured the line, “When clouds part and sea and moon shine clear, let the spring tide soak the peonies crimson.”

“The Yu Meiren you wrote, especially that last line, is beautiful—just like you right now.”

Ouyang Xianyue’s lashes trembled violently.

After a moment, she suddenly leaned forward and bit Tang Song’s shoulder.

A suppressed low moan escaped into the room.

It was muffled, as if forcibly caught in the throat.

Only after a long while did she release him and lean against the dressing table.

She slowly lifted her head and met his gaze.

Those eyes shone astonishingly, as if they saw through every hidden corner of her soul.

That condescending scrutiny made her feel an indescribable thrill and an unbearable shame at the same time.

She had never imagined she would speak those shameless words or act so wantonly.

Even just now, only a few steps from Xu Qing, in his hands...

Xu Qing could wake at any moment, open her eyes, and see her in this disgraceful state.

While she was drowning in those complicated emotions, Tang Song suddenly whispered in her ear, “Don’t move, Qingqing is watching us.”

“Ah—”

Ouyang Xianyue froze, instinctively snapping her head toward the bed.

But Xu Qing on the bed wasn’t awake; she was only irritated by that muffled sound, clicked her lips twice, turned over, and fell back into heavy sleep.

Ouyang Xianyue let out a long breath; cold sweat had soaked her back.

What followed was an overwhelming tide of embarrassed anger.

She turned and glared at him.

Her phoenix eyes shimmered with tears, a mixture of anger, panic, and lingering allure.

“You… that joke is not funny at all!”

“So?” Tang Song looked at the flushing corner of her eyes with a half-smile, half-amused expression, “You’re worried she’ll find out?”

[Drift Value: 40%]

Ouyang Xianyue pressed her lips tight and turned away without speaking.

Tang Song watched the unchanged number, then withdrew his hand from her clothing.

He knew the timing was about right.

Tonight he had already shattered the dignity she prized most;

Xu Qing’s presence magnified her shame,

and had forced her to speak desires that humiliated her.

For a woman who had always sat above others, who was used to controlling everything and had restraint carved into her bones, this was a subversive shock.

Any more would produce the opposite effect.

“All right, it’s late. Get some rest, Ms. Ouyang.”

He brushed the fine sweat from her temple with his fingertips, straightened her clothing, his movements gentle and meticulous.

“You…” Ouyang Xianyue opened her mouth, voice still hoarse, and finally managed, “You should rest early too.”

Tang Song nodded, turned, and gently opened the door, disappearing into the glow outside.

The door closed again.

Silence returned to the bedroom.

Ouyang Xianyue steadied herself on the dressing table and stood there a long time, her legs still trembling slightly.

She looked down at herself, ruined and shameful.

Everything that had happened felt like an absurd dream,

yet the tremors that lingered in her body and the warmth of him on her shoulder made it clear—every bit of it had been real.

She slowly lifted her head and looked at the person in the mirror.

Her cheeks still flushed, eyes glazed and unfocused, lips bitten and slightly swollen.

It was her, and it felt like someone completely different.

The overwhelming shame had not dissipated, but a craving that even frightened herself was already spreading wildly at the bottom of her heart.

...

The plane entered European airspace.

Time blurred as time zones were crossed.

Xu Qing was woken by a faint jolt.

“Mm…”

She opened her eyes groggily to an unfamiliar environment.

Blinking, her hungover brain was still lagging.

Where was this?

Oh right, the plane.

Little Song’s private jet—on the way to Monaco!

She turned and looked at the wide bed beside her.

Where was Sister Xianyue?

“Splash—”

Water ran in the private bathroom.

Moments later, Ouyang Xianyue emerged.

She had changed into a tidy, sharp dark business suit; her long hair was neatly pinned at the back, face fresh from washing.

“Qingqing, awake?”

Seeing Xu Qing sitting on the bed, Ouyang Xianyue offered a slight smile.

“Good morning, Sister Xianyue.” Xu Qing rubbed her messy hair and stared at her for a moment, then exclaimed, “Wow! You look so energetic today! You’re glowing.”

“Really?” Ouyang Xianyue paused, smoothing a stray hair at her temple, “Maybe I slept more deeply on the plane since I wasn’t busy with work.”

“Maybe.” Xu Qing nodded earnestly, believing it completely, “You usually have so much to do, you must be exhausted.”

Ouyang Xianyue naturally shifted the topic. “By the way, I was about to wake you. We’ll land in Nice in a little over an hour. Shall we go to the forward cabin for breakfast?”

“Oh, yes, a big meal.” Xu Qing immediately brightened, threw off the quilt, and hopped out of bed just from seeing her feet.

“Ouch—”

She suddenly cried out, staggering as if about to fall.

“What’s wrong?” Ouyang Xianyue hurriedly reached to steady her.

Xu Qing lifted one foot; a hard little object was stuck to the sole.

She plucked it off and held it up for a closer look.

“? A button?” She blinked confusedly and scanned the carpet, “Strange, this carpet is so clean—where did a button come from?”

Ouyang Xianyue’s heart skipped; she quickly took the button. “Maybe it fell off when I changed clothes this morning.”

“Oh, okay.” Xu Qing didn’t think much of it, rubbed her foot, and went into the bathroom to wash up.

Ouyang Xianyue stood where she was and exhaled softly.

Her fingers rubbed the tiny button.

Her mind involuntarily recalled last night’s wild scenes.

When Tang Song unbuttoned that most prominent button on her chest, the sudden force, the broken button, the roughness, the tugging.

That brutish force and burning heat still seemed to linger on her skin.

Ouyang Xianyue’s throat moved; under the skirt of her suit she pressed her legs tightly together instinctively.

Ten minutes later, the two of them left the bedroom and came to the spacious main cabin.

Outside the window, night still lay heavy.

Tang Song was awake and seated with Secretary Chen, exchanging low-voiced words.

He wore a deep-gray cashmere sweater, looking fresh yet languid.

Hearing them, Tang Song lifted his head; his gaze passed Secretary Chen and rested on Ouyang Xianyue.

“Good morning, Ms. Ouyang, Qingqing.”

“Morning!” Xu Qing chirped cheerfully, eyes sparkling as she rushed to the breakfast counter and, seeing the array of food, grabbed a croissant and bit into it, “Delicious!”

“Morning.” Ouyang Xianyue sat opposite him; Secretary Chen handed her a glass of freshly squeezed grapefruit juice.

“Did you sleep well last night?” Tang Song asked with concern.

“Very well. Bombardier’s bedding is indeed very comfortable; it’s quite relaxing.”

Tang Song smiled, his gaze lingering on her face for a moment.

“That’s good. I was worried the tail-end cabin near the engines might make things unstable and the turbulence might keep you from sleeping soundly.”

Ouyang Xianyue met his eyes, her tone warm. “Mr. Tang, you worry too much. Sometimes… just the right kind of turbulence can completely relax tense nerves. For me, it’s the best sleep aid.”

She paused, her eyes shifting, “If there’s a chance, I wouldn’t mind experiencing it a few more times.”

Tang Song looked slightly surprised, met her gaze, and smiled, “It seems Ms. Ouyang does enjoy it.”

Xu Qing, still chewing her croissant, looked up and eagerly added, “I like it too!”

Outside the window, the cloud layer thinned.

Nice time, 5:45 a.m.

The plane began to descend, and the scattered lights along the Mediterranean coast below grew clearer.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we will soon land at Nice Côte d’Azur International Airport (NCE),” purser Li Yin’s gentle voice announced through the cabin, “The current local weather is clear, with a temperature of 12 degrees Celsius. It is still before dawn and the sea breeze is cool; please bring extra clothing when disembarking.”

Ten minutes later, the plane was securely parked in front of the Nice FBO terminal.

Inside the cabin, Li Yin and two flight attendants efficiently helped everyone with carry-ons and handed out warm wet towels and just-pressed coats.

Once everything was in order, the cabin door slowly opened.

The sea-scented Mediterranean air rushed in, refreshing and invigorating.

There was no crowd or shuttle bus at the foot of the airstair.

A few black business cars idled with their lights on, waiting quietly on the ramp.

Dozens of tactical agents from Shengtang Security’s European special operations, dressed in black windproof tactical gear, stood on both sides of the motorcade like javelins.

In addition, private bodyguards and staff specially sent from Tangjin Estate were present.

Tang Song descended the stairs first.

Butler Dubois immediately approached, hand to his chest with a slight bow, his voice rich and respectful: “Welcome back, Mr. Tang.”

Then, turning gentlemanly toward Ouyang Xianyue and Xu Qing who followed, he said, “Ms. Ouyang, Miss Xu Qing, welcome to the French Riviera.”

“Thank you, Dubois,” Tang Song smiled and nodded.

Ouyang Xianyue wore a black French wide-brimmed hat, head slightly lowered, exuding the graceful bearing of an Eastern noblewoman.

Walking last, Xu Qing looked at the towering men and armored cars and was completely overwhelmed by the “CEO reception” spectacle, nodding and smiling like an awestruck little follower.

Two customs officers holding mobile devices walked directly onto the ramp.

Dubois took the three passports and passed them over.

In less than two minutes, the stamp fell and “cleared customs and entered” was completed matter-of-factly.

“Sir, all your oversized luggage will be transported by the security team directly to the hotel in Monaco,” Dubois reported smoothly as he led them, “To save your time and give you the most beautiful coastal view, I have arranged a helicopter. We can depart directly from this ramp to Monaco.”

They climbed into cars and, after only two minutes, arrived at a private helipad at the edge of the airport.

Several deep-blue Agusta AW139 helicopters were parked quietly.

Guided by crew, Tang Song, Ouyang Xianyue, and Xu Qing boarded the first helicopter.

The helicopter cabin was very spacious.

Six wide leather aviation seats faced each other.

The windows were much larger than in a regular plane, almost occupying the entire side for excellent visibility.

Soft ambient lighting glowed overhead, and plush cashmere carpet cushioned underfoot.

The three sat in the same row with an unspoken understanding—Tang Song center, Ouyang Xianyue left, Xu Qing right.

Xu Qing’s eyes darted around like a searchlight, her face writing “I want to post this” with excited anticipation.

The pilot’s brief French report came through their headsets, and the helicopter leapt upward, diving toward the clouds.

After a strong momentary weight, the fuselage steadied.

The view widened immeasurably.

Although it was still dark, the eastern skyline showed a faint, dim gray.

From the helicopter’s perspective, the Blue Coast’s wealthy gardens displayed a unique nocturnal beauty.

Tang Song turned and looked at the noblewoman beside him.

She sat quietly, gazing out the window; the cabin’s soft light traced the exquisite contour of her profile.

Her serene phoenix eyes resembled a pond of autumn water.

She didn’t need any deliberate movement—the elegance and nobility that radiated from her bones were intoxicating enough.

Under cover of the wide seat, Tang Song reached forward and placed his hand on her thigh.

Through the high-quality fabric of her suit trousers, the alluring fullness and firmness of her body transmitted to his palm.

Ouyang Xianyue’s body stiffened; she instinctively glanced at Xu Qing on her right.

Luckily Xu Qing was currently sprawled against the window, excitedly recording with her phone, oblivious to the subtle motion here.

The helicopter’s roar further masked any faint sounds, turning it into an extremely private “lawless space.”

Ouyang Xianyue looked at Tang Song without revealing anything, a coquettish reproach in her gaze.

Tang Song, matter-of-fact, said, “Ms. Ouyang, the helicopter hit some turbulence—please be careful.”

He did not withdraw his hand; instead, he slid it up along the graceful line of her thigh,

finally resting his warm palm on the little hollow at her waist, kneading gently.

Ouyang Xianyue bit her lower lip and did not move or evade; she lowered her lashes and clasped her hands tightly on her knees.

That subtle response born of fierce self-restraint was more deadly than any straightforward seduction.

Tang Song turned his gaze outward.

This was his first time in a helicopter, and his first view of the Côte d’Azur from this angle.

On the left was the deep, boundless, glittering Mediterranean.

On the right, the rolling foothills of the Alps.

Half soft, half stern.

This breathtaking contrast was suffocatingly beautiful,

and the feeling of flying close to the land was freer than any other mode of transport.

Seven minutes later,

“Ladies and gentlemen, we will soon arrive in Monaco,” the pilot announced through the headset.

The helicopter slowed and dove toward a patch of lights on the sea.

Below, a microstate hugged the mountains and the sea.

Luxurious buildings clung to cliffs; the harbor brimmed with white yachts, lit up as bright as day.

Hercules Harbor—

the gold-washing pit for the world’s billionaires.

His superyacht waited there for his inspection.

And waiting there as well was the core team from Crown Bank he would meet for the first time.

Wealth, power, sea, and beauties.

Tang Song’s heart surged; the hand at Ouyang Xianyue’s waist tightened unconsciously.

Under his palm, her supple body shivered.

She did not look at Tang Song; her gaze focused on the brilliantly lit harbor below.

The yacht of her dreams was there.

The open sea unbound by morality and family ties lay ahead.

What kind of storm would await her there?

Ouyang Xianyue’s heart raced uncontrollably.

Desire and anticipation mixed with a trace of fear, spreading silently through her body.

[Drift Value: 42%]

...

The helicopter slowly touched down on Monte Carlo’s private helipad.

Dubois had already arranged the motorcade.

Everyone boarded the cars in turn.

Tang Song and Xu Qing took the back of the armored Maybach in the center; Ouyang Xianyue and Secretary Chen rode in another vehicle.

The convoy promptly departed, winding down the mountain road.

Monaco was just waking.

The sky was a cool gray-blue; dawn had not fully illuminated this cliff-built microstate.

The buildings on both sides bore typical Southern European styles—

off-whites, pale yellows, soft pinks that looked warm in the gentle morning light.

The streets were almost empty.

Only seabirds circled above the harbor, calling crisply.

Xu Qing pressed her face to the window, eyes greedily taking it all in.

She murmured to herself, full of the excitement of someone who had never seen the world.

She rolled down her window.

The morning sea breeze rushed in, cool and a bit salty, tangling her hair.

She raised her phone and filmed the tiered fairy-tale buildings and the mass of white yachts like crazy.

Then,

“Rumble—!!!”

A deep, thunderous engine roar approached from behind, like a beast baying.

It instantly shredded the morning calm.

Xu Qing flinched, nearly dropping her phone.

“What the hell?!”

She turned to look.

A pitch-black supercar was barrelling toward them with extreme swagger.

A long, low nose and a body so low it nearly kissed the road, the sleek lines like a stretched black teardrop, gleamed coldly in the dawn.

Xu Qing’s pupils dilated; she yelled excitedly, “Is that—Voice of the Night?”

As an experienced author of domineering CEO novels, she knew a lot about luxury cars.

Of course she recognized it—

The Bugatti La Voiture Noire.

The only one in the world.

Built as an homage to the legendary Type 57SC Atlantic, worth nearly 130 million RMB.

Automotive artistry at its pinnacle.

A mythical car that exists only in legend.

She never dreamed she would see the real thing in person.

She fumbled to raise her phone and snapped frantic photos of the black beast.

“Gorgeous—so gorgeous—”

Voice of the Night seemed unsatisfied with a mere pass.

It changed lanes smoothly, cutting directly in front of the convoy, then slowed,

forcing the convoy’s speed down, blocking the only approach to the hotel.

Immediately, several high-pitched revs sounded.

More supercars burst out from behind.

A Ferrari LaFerrari, a Lamborghini Veneno, a Koenigsegg Jesko...

Top-tier beasts in every color, each a limited edition that could drive car fans wild.

They weaved through the narrow streets, squeezing, overtaking.

Engine roars alternated like percussion.

Exhausts spit blue flames; the shriek of tires against pavement echoed between the tight buildings.

It was as if the entire Monaco were their private playground.

“What… what are they doing? An Emirati prince car meetup? Or filming a movie?” Xu Qing’s eyes shone.

She had done her homework before coming.

She knew Monaco had an F1 circuit and that luxury cars filled its streets.

But this spectacle exceeded her imagination.

It was exhilarating.

Tang Song said nothing; his gaze quietly fixed on the black supercar.

He had once bought a Voice of the Night in Heartthrob Simulator.

In reality, that meant he should be the sole owner of this car.

But his present memory contained no information about this vehicle.

Which meant it had been acquired sometime after 2021, and likely purchased overseas.

He had already guessed who was up ahead.

...

A few minutes later, the convoy neared their destination, the Monte Carlo Paris Grand Hotel,

but had to stop.

Those ostentatious supercars had blocked the hotel’s main entrance in every conceivable direction.

They completely ignored the doormen’s instructed parking area, brazenly sealing the only drop-off lane.

“What the hell! So rude!” Xu Qing complained, eyes fixed on the cars.

Scissor doors and butterfly doors rose in sequence.

A group of glamorous young men and women stepped out.

European faces, Middle Eastern faces, Russian faces.

They clustered in twos and threes, but all eyes turned instinctively to the black Voice of the Night in front.

“Huh—”

A car door slowly opened.

A foot in a studded high heel stepped out.

Then a figure rose.

A fire-red, high-neck body suit with a large heart-shaped cutout at the chest, curves full and pronounced.

Tight black matte leather pants below.

A cascade of golden hair fell over pale, almost translucent skin.

Red lips matte and striking, expression wild and arrogant.

She stood like a burning flame, igniting the morning.

Xu Qing’s mouth formed a perfect O.

Anne Kate.

That mare?! How is she here?!

She instinctively drew back her head and sank into her seat.

She still remembered vividly the night at Lan Feng International apartment when Anne Kate and her protégé Xiao Jing ganged up on her.

If Sister Su Yu hadn’t been there, Anne would have had her ruined that night.

Anne Kate stretched lazily, completely unfazed by the admiring gazes around her. In her high heels, she strode with an elegant swagger straight to the Maybach.

She peered through the tinted window and the corner of her mouth curled into a truly predatory smile.

Like a queen who had finally found her prey—elegant and lethal.

“Hum—”

The dark armored window slowly wound down.

Revealing Tang Song’s handsome, inscrutable face.

Anne Kate braced one hand on the roof, leaned in slightly, her ice-blue eyes burning with fanatic light.

“Welcome to Monaco, my Song.”

Her voice was husky and alluring, the tail lifting lazily.

“I personally drove your Voice of the Night here. Do you like the welcome I prepared for you?”

She ignored all surrounding gazes and leaned into the window.

Her arms went around his neck.

Golden hair fell in, bringing a faint scent that mingled with the morning chill into the cabin.

Then, full and vibrant red lips pressed heavily to his.

The sea breeze brushed the harbor.

Monaco’s day officially began.