Jiang Wanxing's voice was like the richest cello, its resonant tones lingering in the cavernous luxury of her office, each syllable imbued with an unassailable clarity—and a faint, icicle-sharp scrutiny.
Lu Chen's heart clenched at her seemingly calm question, laced with hidden edges, yet he forced his face into the composed, deliberate calm he had meticulously cultivated. He knew that the instant he stepped past the threshold of this office, an invisible, deadly psychological duel had begun.
He bowed his gaze, avoiding the penetrating chill of Jiang Wanxing's phoenix-like eyes, and spoke in a tone that balanced humility with quiet confidence: "Ms. Jiang, I understand that for a business legend like you, time is more precious than gold. As a humble, unknown sales representative, I shouldn't even qualify to stand before you."
He paused, as if gathering his thoughts—and his courage—before raising his head again, his eyes meeting hers without flinching. His voice was low but every word rang clear, carrying the resolve of a man staking everything on this moment: "But I believe the 'non-mainstream' perspectives on Wanxing International's future brand strategy that I outlined in my email might offer… perhaps just a different angle of thought."
At his words, Jiang Wanxing's narrow, sharp eyes flickered with something almost imperceptible. Her lush, ruby lips curved into a playful, probing smile—but she said nothing.
Silence descended. Only the faint, seductive scent that always seemed to drift around her, laced with danger, and the rapid pounding of Lu Chen's heart filled the space.
She wouldn't be swayed by empty flattery or pretentious mystique. What she craved was substance—something that could pierce the innermost, most sensitive chord of her soul and prove its value.
That "brand youthification" concept proposal in his email—bold, audacious, even bordering on heresy—was his first "hook." He was betting that this supremely confident, perhaps slightly arrogant woman would, deep down, thrill at being challenged, at being questioned by a "nobody."
"Non-mainstream viewpoints?" Jiang Wanxing finally murmured, almost amused. She set down her wineglass. Her legs, sheathed in top-quality black fishnet stockings, crossed with elegant precision, the skirt sliding up just enough to reveal an arresting glimpse of silk-clad thigh—a sight that would set any man's imagination ablaze.
Lu Chen wrenched his gaze back to her frost-cold eyes. He knew that even the slightest hint of desire or distraction would cost him half the battle.
"Every year," she continued, almost lazily tapping the priceless ebony desk with a hand adorned by a singular, ornate ruby ring, "we receive so many 'strategic partnership proposals' and 'brand development suggestions' for Wanxing International that they could fill the entire moat of Xing City. Among them are self-proclaimed 'geniuses' and 'masters,' each offering something more 'non-mainstream,' more 'earth-shattering' than the last."
She paused, her gaze brimming with undisguised disdain. "And what happens? Those so-called 'geniuses' are invariably revealed as nothing more than empty theorists—talentless, overambitious fools who can't execute a plan to save their lives."
Her words were cutting—enough to shatter someone with thinner skin.
Lu Chen's expression remained unshaken; he even inclined his head in agreement. "You're absolutely right, Ms. Jiang. The world is full of self-styled 'bright minds.' But those who can turn ideas into reality and generate true commercial value are exceedingly rare."
Her eyes narrowed, X-ray beams searching his. "So," she said, "why should I believe that you, Lu Chen, are one of those rare few? Or that your mere three-page 'concept proposal' could be more valuable than the exhaustive reports crafted over months by the world's top consulting firms at the cost of millions?"
The real test had arrived.
Lu Chen's pulse thundered in his ears, but he forced himself to remain calm and clear-headed. He inhaled deeply, letting his mind race faster than ever before, and instead of answering directly, he posed a question tinged with sincerity—and a hint of disarming bewilderment: "Ms. Jiang, before I answer, may I… presumptuously ask you a personal question? It might relate to your prior complaints about Feichi Group's products."
"Go ahead," she replied, her brow lifting ever so slightly, curiosity stirring in her icy eyes.
"I've reviewed the internal records of your complaints—about 'core technical flaws' and 'quality issues'—and… well, some informal rumors as well. It seems you harbor a profound dissatisfaction, perhaps even distrust, not merely toward our products, but toward Feichi Group's entire service and sales apparatus, correct?"
At this, the playful smile faded from her lips, replaced by a cold, imperious stare. "If you've come simply to defend your inferior products and clumsy service… or to ingratiate yourself in some amateurish way, I'm afraid you'll be sorely disappointed. My time is far too precious."
Her formidable aura pressed down on him like a mountain—but Lu Chen appeared unfazed. "No, Ms. Jiang. I'm not here to defend our products or services—any apology or excuse would sound hollow to someone as perfectionistic as you."
He sensed her tension ease—just a fraction. Seizing the moment, he continued with empathy and professionalism: "In studying your complaint history and Wanxing International's recent brand positioning, I've come to a daring—but perhaps remarkably accurate—hypothesis."
"When you nitpick our products, Jiang Wanxing, it might not be the alleged 'technical defects' or 'quality lapses' that truly concern you."
Those words struck her like a thunderclap. For the first time, true shock—and something almost like panic—flickered in her azure eyes. Her slender hand trembled, and a few drops of deep-red wine splashed onto the hem of her costly black silk dress, staining it like drops of blood.
Yet she seemed oblivious, her gaze locked on him with a complex mix of astonishment, interrogation, and… fragile vulnerability. "What… what do you mean?" she whispered, her voice hoarse.
Lu Chen felt a surge of exhilaration: the fish had taken the bait. He stifled the pain at his temples—brought on by overusing his "Hunter's Heart Spectrum"—and, voice quivering with the thrill of discovery and the fear of overstepping, he pressed on: "Ms. Jiang… you're not truly upset with Feichi Group's products. You're angered by our inept, unprofessional sales and service teams—those who never bothered to understand your pursuit of perfection and respect. They saw only your exalted status and feared power, never trying to comprehend the unseen toil, the isolation behind building Wanxing International, or your deepest longing: to find someone who can resonate with you, who can appreciate the brilliance you achieved in your youth—achievements long forgotten by the world."
Silence—absolute, suffocating silence.
In that moment, the delicate barrier around Jiang Wanxing's heart—the icy fortress she had erected over years of loneliness and misunderstanding—cracked open ever so slightly. The only sound was the fading note of the wineglass on marble, and her own heartbeat, erratic with shock and something more: the wary stirrings of understanding, even warmth.
Lu Chen knew he had gambled correctly. With the "Hunter's Heart Spectrum," he had found and struck the one vulnerable chord in this imperious queen's soul. Now, all that remained was to gently—and unrelentingly—pry that door fully open.