On the most wretched day of Jiang Siwu’s life, Bai Xiao pretended to be suave as he lifted her chin.
The man’s eyes were dark as he said, “Miss Jiang, do you remember the way you tossed me two hundred yuan that day, like you were doing me a favor?”
Three years ago, she was a wealthy heiress who casually gave him two hundred yuan.
He was a poor student whose name she couldn’t even remember.
Three years later, the Jiang family went bankrupt. With nowhere else to turn, she believed that going away might change her luck.
Instead, she ran into the man she had once pitied. He was now the youngest inheritor of the intangible cultural heritage of bamboo weaving, and every piece he made was considered a national treasure.
“If you can’t learn to weave a bamboo basket, you’re not eating tonight.” Gripping her wrist beneath the lamplight, he taught her how to select bamboo strips, his breath hot against her. “Looks like it’s my turn to give Miss Jiang two hundred yuan for a meal. Don’t you think?”
On the surface, he was cold and demanding. But when they were alone, he would put away the bamboo strips and murmur to himself, “Don’t throw away any strips Siwu has touched.”
Proud, sensible, and aspiring entrepreneur Jiang Siwu × aloof, secretly flirtatious heritage craft scholar Bai Xiao
