Golden Temptation – A Yuri Story - Chapter 5

Qiao Fei returned to her apartment and sank onto the bed, exhausted. She picked up the note Jing Xuan had left her and studied it carefully. The handwriting was clean and elegant—just like her. The note listed a string of numbers, an address, and the words “Huatian.”
He works at Huatian? That was the most renowned nightclub in City C! But working in such a place didn’t necessarily mean he was respectable. So flashy… For a moment, Qiao Fei’s impression of Jing Xuan plummeted. In her mind, Huatian was associated with nightlife, indulgence, and moral ambiguity—far from proper in her traditional eyes. She equated it with the Eight Great Hutongs of old Beijing, places of questionable repute.
But not everything is black and white. While some nightclubs and bars do fit that image, Huatian wasn’t one of them—at least not under Jing Xuan’s management. She ran it legitimately, with discipline and integrity. Clearly, Qiao Fei needed to reconsider some of her long-held beliefs.
In fact, Huatian’s full name was Huatian International, with its headquarters in Singapore. It was a massive conglomerate with operations in real estate, steel, electronics, hospitality, catering, tourism, entertainment, fashion, retail, and more. Its TV shopping channels broadcast across 49 countries, and its chain stores could be found throughout Southeast Asia and parts of Europe. Jing Xuan was the heir apparent of this empire—unimaginably wealthy. The Huatian branch was her stronghold in City C, part of her vision to expand the brand eastward.
Jing Xuan’s background remained a mystery. Like Yan Jun, she came from a rich family—but unlike Yan Jun, Jing Xuan knew almost nothing about her origins. Raised in a secluded monastery from a young age, the only person who ever visited her was a man named Maurice. Every six months, Maurice would come to teach her kung fu and academics.
As a child, Jing Xuan had been a bright, lively girl. She loved tying her long hair into ponytails and was full of energy. But when she turned 12, Maurice made his final visit and gave her a bewildering order: from that day forward, she would live as a boy—change her looks, her mannerisms, everything. Jing Xuan was confused. She was a girl. Why hide it? Maurice said it was for her safety and warned her never to speak of him to anyone. From then on, she was to forget she had ever known him.
Maurice became Jing Xuan’s deepest secret—one she never shared with Gao Zhe, Yan Junye, or Lan Qing. In the monastery, Jing Xuan was known as mischievous and spirited, often vanishing into the mountains until dusk. What no one knew was that she was meeting Maurice there.
At 15, Jing Xuan encountered an old man who was being hunted down. That man was Huang Zhixiong, chairman of Huatian Industrial. He had just escaped a kidnapping attempt and was on the brink of death when Jing Xuan saved him. Impressed by her intelligence and composure, Huang decided to adopt her after learning she was an orphan. A wealthy businessman who had built Huatian from the ground up, Huang had no children of his own despite being nearly 50.
Jing Xuan agreed to become her godchild, though she refused to take his surname. At 15, she followed Huang to Singapore. A year ago, she returned to City C.
Growing up beside Huang Zhixiong, Jing Xuan matured quickly. At 19, she became the acting president of Huatian Industrial. In just three years, she transformed the company into Huatian International, leading it into diverse industries with her own unique management style. Though not related by bl00d, she and Huang shared a deep father-daughter bond, and she had promised to take over officially when she turned 25.
Back in her apartment, Qiao Fei looked down and realized she was still wearing the outfit Jing Xuan had lent her. She recalled her own clothes were still in Jing’s bathroom. After some thought, she decided to clean the outfit and return it when she had the chance—and maybe retrieve her own clothes then. With the new semester starting soon, there was still so much to take care of.
Meanwhile, Jing Xuan arrived at Huatian. It was still early and the venue hadn’t opened yet. She headed straight to her office, tossed her coat aside, and collapsed onto the bed in the lounge. Arms folded behind her head, she closed her eyes, intending to rest. But images of Qiao Fei drifted through her mind—her fragility, her beauty…
“Qiao Fei…” she murmured.
It had been nearly 1 a.m. when she rescued her the night before, and by the time she’d fallen asleep, it was almost 2. She had risen before 6 to prepare breakfast and drive her to South City, before returning to Huatian. The past few days had been taxing, and Jing Xuan was worn out. Determined to get Huatian running smoothly, she had barely slept. By 8 a.m., she had already dozed off, Qiao Fei’s name on her lips.
She slept until nearly 2 p.m., then finally rose, drank some water, straightened her wrinkled shirt, and headed to the café.
Time passed quickly. As night fell, Huatian’s nightclub began to buzz. Though the sky was not yet fully dark, crowds of young people had already begun to stream in. Behind the bar, Jing Xuan lazily wiped wine bottles, occasionally showing off her mixology skills and chatting with flirtatious customers.
Tonight, she wore black casual pants that accentuated her long legs and a white, round-neck shirt with the top buttons undone, revealing a strong collarbone and a bit of defined chest. Her short black hair gleamed under the lights, a few strands falling naturally across her forehead. Her sharp brows and crescent-shaped smiling eyes made her effortlessly captivating.
That was how she appeared when Gao Zhe and the others entered—this time with a guest in tow, someone they were certain would shock Jing Xuan.
A tall, striking woman with long, wavy hair and a sleek black dress walked in behind them. Her elegant figure and noble air made heads turn. Her gaze was locked on the man behind the bar—the man she had longed for day and night, the one she hadn’t seen in nearly eight years. Emotion welled in her eyes as she resisted the urge to run into her arms.
Lan Qing motioned for the group to sit quietly and moved forward on her 6cm heels. All eyes followed her as she approached the bar—men in awe, women envious.
She stopped in front of Jing Xuan, who was still wiping glasses with her head down, unaware of her presence.
A soft, melodic voice spoke:
“Handsome, may I have a glass of sherry, please?”
“Of course, miss. Would you like it with ice? You… you…” Jing Xuan looked up and froze—completely stunned.