Chapter 2: Why Not Thank Him?

Bai Chuwei shifted her posture, leaning against the car window with a faintly curved smile. "Just routine," she said.

The young man in the passenger seat stretched happily, then turned to glance at the distinguished man in the back, who was resting with his eyes closed. With a hint of guilt, he said, "Fourth Uncle, I'm sorry. I dragged you here to Mount Mist without properly investigating. We didn't find the miracle doctor, and now you're missing your meeting because of me."

Duan Feihan lowered his gaze, his deep voice responding with a soft hum, evidently unconcerned.

His voice was reminiscent of the finest cello, a single note inexplicably alluring and magnetic.

Bai Chuwei couldn't help but look at him a few more times—a face blessed by heaven, truly pleasing to the eye. And the faint aura emanating from him made her somewhat covetous.

Duan Xingye, in the passenger seat, scratched his head in frustration, anxious and flustered. "Grandfather is gravely ill. We've sought experts both at home and abroad, but no one can help. A classmate told me there's a miracle doctor living here on Mount Mist. I acted on impulse without thinking it through."

He watched the mountain recede in the rearview mirror, a bit dispirited. "This miracle doctor is rumored to be almost mystical—raising the dead, healing bones—could they really be a deity? Probably just a figment of my classmate's imagination."

Suddenly, a light, melodious laugh came from the back seat.

Duan Xingye raised his eyebrows in surprise, looking at Bai Chuwei. "Why are you laughing?"

She composed herself and replied, "Drop me off at Shuangbai Road, in the southern part of Haicheng, on your way."

There was a cluster of villas on Shuangbai Road, and one belonged to the Bai family.

The car fell silent.

Duan Xingye stared wide-eyed at the beautiful girl hitching a ride. Good heavens, he’d never seen someone so bold! Not only did she expect a lift down the mountain, she wanted to be chauffeured home.

Even Duan Feihan, who had been resting with eyes closed, opened them, his gaze cold and sharp.

Bai Chuwei met Duan Feihan’s icy stare, unwavering. "Lost? I can give directions," she offered.

As the head of the Duan family, a century-old dynasty, Duan Feihan possessed an innate commanding presence. Even in the business world, few dared meet his gaze.

Bai Chuwei gently touched her chin, her tone intriguing. "Sir, has anyone ever told you that you’re like a walking piece of monk’s flesh?"

Duan Feihan's deep eyes suddenly narrowed. In the hazy recesses of his memory, he seemed to recall a girl describing him that way in his childhood.

Duan Xingye worried his uncle might toss the pretty girl out of the car and hurriedly said, "It’s no trouble, I’ll drop you off." He signaled the driver.

Descending from Mount Mist, they drove for half an hour. Bai Chuwei saw the row of pristine white villas ahead through the window.

"Stop here," she said.

Bai Chuwei got out, umbrella in hand, and knocked on Duan Xingye's window. She handed in a cloth bag filled with vegetables, her eyes sparkling with a gentle smile. "Thank you for the ride. Your grandfather has stomach trouble—let him eat some vegetables I grew."

With that, she walked into the villa cluster, her graceful figure disappearing.

The rain continued to fall, the Rolls-Royce Phantom parked in the middle of the road, its occupants stunned.

Duan Xingye exchanged a look with the driver, who exclaimed, "How did she know the old man has a stomach illness?"

Duan Xingye was bewildered; he was sure he hadn’t mentioned that his grandfather had stomach cancer...

Could it have been Fourth Uncle?

He turned to look at Duan Feihan.

The distinguished man's brows furrowed slightly, his thoughts elsewhere. "This car is mine."

So why did she thank Duan Xingye for the ride, and not him?