Ye Chen's face was dark with anger. Damn it—just how many men does she have?
There was Yang Zekun, then Wang Rui, and now someone named Crayon Shin-chan?
With such an innocent-looking face, could it all have been his illusion?
While Ye Chen was burning with jealousy, Cheng Anya's entire attention was seized by the bar before her. She could never forget—seven years ago, it was right here that she and him had spent the most absurd night of their lives.
"President Ye, it's so late. Why did you bring me to a bar?" Cheng Anya couldn't help but ask, her whole body tense. The memories from seven years ago replayed in her mind like a slow-motion film.
To her surprise, Cheng Anya realized she remembered every detail between them from that night.
Her recklessness, his cold demeanor. Her defiance, his pride...
They were clearly from two different worlds, yet they had collided in a single night of passion. Her heart pounded like a frightened deer, her palms were slick with sweat, and her face burned hotter with each passing second.
She couldn't figure out what Third Young Master Ye was thinking.
What did he mean by this?
Had he recognized her?
Seeing her flushed cheeks, Ye Chen snorted inwardly. When she worked as Secretary to Klaus, she'd been to countless nightclubs and lounges—so why pretend to be some shy little lady just because it's a bar?
"Drink," Ye Chen threw out the word coldly, then stepped inside. Cheng Anya blinked in surprise. Her tightly strung nerves suddenly loosened a bit.
If he didn't recognize her, then what was he thinking? Why was he so irritable today?
From start to finish, he'd been brooding—his mood on the edge of collapse.
Even though he was usually cold and silent, Cheng Anya could still tell that something was seriously off.
Pressing her lips together, she stepped into the same bar she had fled in a panic seven years ago.
Ambiguous, seductive lights pulsed through the air, thick with lust. Onstage, provocative dancers sent the men below into wild cheers. The dancers' snake-like waists twisted with practiced ease, their heavily made-up faces radiating sultry allure.
Screams and shouts filled the place!
This was an exquisitely decorated bar—elegant like a palace, opulent to the eye. Cheng Anya noticed that most of the patrons were people of status and power.
It was a top-tier private bar. She couldn't help but fall silent. How on earth had she gotten in here seven years ago?
"Anya? What are you doing here?" Just as she was looking around for Ye Chen, a smooth and elegant voice drifted over.
A senior?