Four years ago, at the Yan Bar in Shanghai, Qiu Tian finished her final dance and was stopped backstage by a man with a roguish grin.
"You danced well, but you hesitated during that final spin."
She gave him a cold look. "Are you a dance instructor?"
"I've got a sharp eye."
That was Huo Lingfeng, heir to Hong Kong's Huo family: sharp-tongued, roguishly handsome, and utterly arrogant. He watched her dance all night and never forgot her.
Four years later, in the hospital emergency room, the person lying on the operating table slowly opened his mouth. "It's been four years. Your hands are steadier than your dancing."
"Qiu Tian, whatever you're afraid of, I'll give it to you. Afraid I'll leave? Then I'll move the entire Huo family to Shanghai. Afraid I'll deceive you? I'll have my property and shares notarized in your name."
