Chapter 55

Chapter 55: Yan Jing’s Richest Man Ji Chang An

“What’s happening?”

“Her invitation has an issue, so they’re holding her for verification.”

“Wait—wasn’t she the one who got out of that Si family’s car earlier?”

“Could she be that Si family’s young master’s new lover?”

The sharp, mocking voices washed over Qiao Qing Yan like wind. From beginning to end, she stared straight ahead, as if she couldn’t hear a word.

She didn’t look anxious at all.

At the entrance to the banquet hall, a man in his thirties stood with quiet authority.

He was tall and upright, with a dignified face and sharply defined features. His eyes were bright and steady, carrying a calm that felt resolute rather than cold. A dark suit fit him perfectly, but what stood out wasn’t wealth.

It was the unmistakable scholarly air about him, as if he belonged to a different kind of power.

“Mr. Ji.”

That single title broke the brief hush.

The crowd gathered in the lobby sucked in small breaths. Their attention sharpened, suddenly careful.

Only the woman waiting at the side met his gaze without flinching.

Ji Chang An—Yan Jing’s richest man.

Yan Jing was the most influential first-tier city in the entire country besides the Capital, its status considered equal in weight. And this man had become Yan Jing’s richest man at only 37.

Yet there was nothing of the usual businessman in him. If anything, he looked like a young master raised in a family of scholars.

Ji Chang An’s gaze swept over Qiao Qing Yan.

She was young—probably not even in her twenties. Calling her a girl wouldn’t be wrong.

She wore a plain, elegant qipao with a subtle pattern. A white jade bracelet circled her wrist. What truly held his attention, however, was the jade necklace at her throat.

At her age, it was rare to carry such a piece well. On most people, it would look old-fashioned.

But against the plain qipao, the grandmother-green pendant looked alive—glowing, deep and quiet. For a moment, Ji Chang An couldn’t tell whether the qipao set off the necklace or the necklace set off the qipao.

Then the girl lifted her head.

Calm. Graceful. Light makeup, delicate features, as if she had stepped out of a photograph from the Republican era.

Ji Chang An realized his guess was wrong.

It wasn’t the qipao or the necklace.

It was her. She made them both look effortless.

On anyone else, it would have been ridiculous, even tacky.

But her face was too stunning, and yet it didn’t steal even a sliver of that grandmother-green glow.

He studied her, searching for the smallest crack of emotion. Yet even under his presence, she showed no fear. If anything, she seemed even calmer.

Ji Chang An withdrew his gaze, a faint sigh pressed inward. Since when had Cloud City produced someone like this?

“Miss,” he said, voice gentle, “would it be convenient to let me take a look at your invitation?”

Qiao Qing Yan handed it over. The motion was smooth, unhurried—like passing him an ordinary piece of paper.

Ji Chang An glanced at the invitation and then smiled at her.

“The invitation is real. The Ji family emblem can’t be imitated.” His tone held apology. “I’m sorry, Miss. We’ve caused you trouble.”

He turned slightly. “A Xu, take out my last business card.”

The assistant behind him jolted, startled by the order, but he moved quickly all the same. He pulled the final remaining card from the inner pocket of his briefcase.