Chapter 1: · Rose

In S City’s wealthy circles, a story about an “Overbearing President and his Little Ingrate” has been making the rounds in recent years.

It was a cold winter night at an airport, where lights flickered in the darkness.

A sudden blizzard caused mass flight delays, leaving a young self-made president who had built his own niche perfume brand stranded in the departure lounge.

He’d stepped out in the afternoon under a brilliant sun, so he’d worn only a thin trench coat. Now, in the drafty terminal lashed by night rain and snow, he shivered uncontrollably.

A down-and-out “Cinderfella” was working the graveyard shift at the airport café.

Seeing the man ordering coffee dressed so thinly, his face pale from the cold, the young man followed the customer-first spirit and offered him a clean, warm blanket.

《A blanket’s kindness to a nobleman in distress.》

That natural, unembellished moment made the president fall for the kind-hearted Cinderfella at first sight.

…

The simple-minded president plunged headfirst into first love; his devotion was as clear as day.

He hired the Cinderfella as his secretary on a high salary and kept him close, doting on him, protecting him, orbiting around him constantly. He would have turned into a magic lamp to grant his every wish.

He taught the Cinderfella English, sent him for further studies, and personally instructed him in secret fragrance-blending techniques and scent formulas never revealed to outsiders. He overruled all objections to launch a dedicated perfume line for him, released products, and spent a fortune on promotion.

The president gave his absolute all, and the Cinderfella was equally willing to work hard.

After four years, the relentless effort paid off. The Cinderfella’s creation was named one of the “Annual Top Ten” by the rating organization Library and enshrined in the supremely prestigious “Library Hall of Fame.” He became famous overnight, instantly rising as the dazzling future star of the industry.

At this point, the Cinderfella had truly ascended to an elite status, perfectly matched with the Overbearing President in social standing and power—a union of equals.

Both were handsome and quite young.

Whenever the president looked at the Cinderfella, his eyes sparkled with a light as brilliant as the stars.

Logically, this was where the story should reach its “happily ever after” ending.

Unfortunately, that Cinderfella was…

a completely straight man.

…

For four entire years, the ill-fated, miserable Sugar Daddy didn’t even get near the edge of the Cinderfella’s bed, let alone hold his little hand.

Not only that, once he achieved fame and his wings were fully fledged, the Cinderfella actually turned around and resented his Sugar Daddy for nailing him to the pillar of shame—“kept man who climbed the ladder”—tarnishing his spotless reputation.

After winning the award, the Cinderfella immediately signed with the famous French perfume brand Belle. Using the penalty fee advanced by Belle, he kicked his Sugar Daddy to the curb, officially completing his cross-species evolution from a mud hen to an ingrate.

That Little Ingrate has been thriving in the industry ever since, frequently appearing in the public eye.

A while back, he even graced the year-end cover of a certain high-end magazine.

“Yi Changqing”—the three bold characters were paired with his opulent Les étoiles starry bow tie. His handsome profile was half-hidden in shadow, soft brown hair tips brushing his sensual neck. His entire being exuded a very high-class aura.

Against a dark red backdrop, his glittering title as “Belle Chief Perfumer” was embossed in gold beneath a grand line: Born · Fragrance Aristocrat.

…

“The gall to print that! Has he no shame? Does he really think no one in the circle knows about those shady deeds of his?”

A noisy bar booth. The glue-bound magazine was smacked face-down onto the drinks table, knocking over a glass illuminated by a spherical disco light and splashing a mess of fruit shells everywhere.

“Hah, if he’s an ‘aristocrat,’ aren’t we all princes and crown princes?! A scheming bastard who climbed up by deceiving men the whole way. Didn’t he just blend one crappy perfume? It was so overpowering and not even pleasant. Belle actually picked him up and treats him like a treasure. What were they thinking?”

A chorus of agreement echoed around the table.

One person leaned forward, his face full of curiosity. “…And then?”

“And then what?”

“Yi Changqing is Belle’s Chief Perfumer now. What happened to his original ‘Sugar Daddy’?”

“Oh, that guy died.”

“What?!”

“How could he not die? When Little Ingrate jumped ship to Belle, the Sugar Daddy’s company’s whole marketing gimmick collapsed instantly. Orders were returned. Then, at the end of the year, the financial crisis hit. Capital chain snapped, debts went unpaid. The debt collectors tracked that president down and broke his legs. He was thrown out on the street in the dead of winter, and by the next day, he was frozen stiff. The grass on his grave is three feet high by now!”

“…That tragic?”

“More than tragic! I heard that in his most desperate moment, he even went begging to Yi Changqing, only to be driven away by the man. Hah, Yi Changqing—what an ironic name. ‘Everlasting Devotion.’ I didn’t see an ounce of it. That president must have been blind!”

“Hahaha, ah, but seriously… that is pretty awful.”

In the darkest corner of the sofa, a man who had remained completely silent calmly downed his last mouthful of whiskey.

He stood and picked up his vintage-style black umbrella.

“Hey, President Pei, leaving so early? What’s the matter, is your girlfriend calling you back?”

The man lowered his eyes in a slight smile and shook his head. “I’ve got a very clingy dog at home. I need to go back and feed him, or he’ll throw a fit.”

He navigated the enthusiastic pleas to stay and polite farewells with ease.

As he descended the club’s steps, the cacophony of neon lights was completely severed behind him. Under the clear, cold moonlight, the air was thick with frost and dew.

Pei Zhen pulled his neck in, narrowed his eyes, and breathed a puff of hot air into his cupped palms.

Just why had he even come to such a dull and pointless “social gathering,” only to hear a story that was complete and utter bullshit?

Rumors twist the truth. It was terrifying, really!

The empty late-night streets were diffused with curling wisps of ghostly purple smoke.

He walked slowly along the roadside alone. His angular, coldly handsome face, a too-serious expression, tight lips, a long trench coat, and the vintage umbrella slowly began to imbue the ordinary street with the feel of 18th-century foggy England.

Occasionally, a flickering streetlight caught his narrow eyes.

One was a mesmerizing dark black, like a starry night. The other was a smoky gray, as deep as misted glass.

A rare case of heterochromia.

When asked about it, Pei Zhen’s usual story was: “It’s natural. Only one person in forty million in this world is lucky enough to have this.”

A complete fabrication. But once backed by “statistical data,” few people ever questioned it further. They simply expressed their envy—one in forty million? That sounded insanely cool.

In reality, heterochromia my ass.

The gray eye was a sequela from being brutally beaten on the street back then. He was the supposedly “blind,” idiotic president “with grass three feet high on his grave”!

It was just that after his comeback, he wasn’t as rich as before. He’d also long passed the arrogant and reckless stage of his youth and had become much more low-key.

The wealthy circles were always fiercely competitive and had notoriously short memories.

Unless someone had been extraordinarily brilliant in the past, no one would remember an ordinary person like him vanishing and reappearing. Even carrying a dramatic, gossip-worthy “urban legend,” he was nothing more than a laughingstock on someone else’s wine table.

Looking back on the first half of his life, he had raised a little wild wolf pup with a “conscience of the industry” attitude, only to end up becoming an “industry joke.”

Starting over, Pei Zhen summarized his lessons.

Currently, he managed a small fragrance OEM company, producing obscure, low-tier little brands that could only hit the shelves of some mid-to-low-end teen boutiques.

But because of the excellent quality, cute packaging, and sweet, affordable fragrances, the order volume was actually decent.

He had finally regained a life free of worry about food or clothing, no longer needing to fear getting beaten senseless over debts. With material needs satisfied, thoughts naturally turn to desires; it was simply human nature.

Although Pei Zhen was genuinely passionate about his fragrance-blending career—he had possessed an exceptionally sharp sense of smell since childhood and loved nothing more than to burrow into flowerbeds, groves, and grasses, carefully selecting his favorite scents to bring home, mix, grind, and then lose himself in the aromas within tiny glass bottles—

Running a fragrance company, however, couldn’t be solely about obsessing over product development.

Daily management, promotion, social engagements, public relations—there were simply far too many things to keep him busy.

Working to the point of utter exhaustion every day only to return home to empty silence—probably anyone would find life a little bland and hard to endure.

He wanted someone to be there for him, too. A warm smile and a hug waiting when he came home.

…

Unfortunately, once a person reached a certain age, they were destined to become more and more lazy.

To ask him now, as he did in those years, to charge headfirst and fight with all his might to pursue “true love”—gifting presents, fighting, making up, getting hurt, painstakingly navigating the winding path, dreaming of finally reaching a Happy Ending… Stop, stop, just let it go already!

There were no fairy tales in the adult world. Wanting to be loved without paying a price was unrealistic.

Pei Zhen thought it over. Mm, well, luckily, I have money!

So everything became simple and crude—he would be responsible for the money, and someone else for the love. They would each get what they needed, fair and pleasant.

As a Sugar Daddy, Pei Zhen’s demands were truly not high.

He didn’t need a kept companion on standby twenty-four hours a day; just a full eight-hour workday would suffice.

Off-hours, weekends, and national holidays were free time for the other party with no reporting obligation. Any additional overtime would even be compensated at double wages.

The pay wasn’t low, and the requirements were very humane.

Thus, hoping the other party would have some professional dedication on the job, shed the worldly bias against “money-for-flesh transactions,” and treat attending to him daily and coaxing him into good cheer as a proper nine-to-five “career”—that couldn’t be considered an unreasonable request, right?

…

Whether it was unreasonable or not, Pei Zhen managed to hire an employee pretty smoothly anyway.

And an outstanding, first-rate employee at that.

Gentle, attentive, impeccable, and more than qualified for a promotion and a raise any minute now.