Branded By You

just one game

After a long week of fully immersing himself in work and attending work-related events, Muyang still couldn't get his mind off the woman who had turned him down so coldly. Now, as he sat in his limo, being chauffeured home, a genius idea popped up in his mind.

“Ask the driver to head to the club,” he ordered his assistant, who was seated next to him.

Mu Feiyu had been organizing the next day's schedule when he heard the order—an order that almost made him choke. He passed the instructions on to the driver and looked down at his notebook again, trying to hide his surprise.

He thought the matter with Cherry had been put to rest, but it seemed that was not the case. It was a first. Seeing his boss so interested in a person that he would make a detour to see them was truly a rare sight. Muyang was not a man who easily showed interest in anyone, let alone someone who had rejected him so decisively.

They arrived at the club a few minutes past nine, and she was gone. Gone. Just like that.

“How disciplined. I should try earlier next week,” he determined to himself, his voice low but resolute.

So, the next week, he was there. Nine o'clock on the dot. But that was still too late; he could only catch her as she was leaving. She walked right past him without paying any attention whatsoever, her expression as cool and unreadable as ever.

He looked back, stunned. She truly was ignoring him. He, Muyang, was the most powerful name in the country. He had no reason to endure such treatment. So, he went again the next week, just, you know, or good measure.

He still couldn't meet her.

A year has 52 weeks, and he had spent 20 of those weeks trying to get her to see him. Finally, after 20 failed attempts, he admitted to his assistant that he wanted to go to the club before nine to see her. Only then did Mu Feiyu add Thursday poker to the day's schedule.

To be fair, the super-smart secretary already knew that. But since his boss refused to admit it and continued to act like he just happened to go to the club on Thursday every week with no intention whatsoever, he couldn't interfere.

Muyang wasn't used to being ignored. In his world, people scrambled to please him, to earn his favor, or even just to catch his attention. But Cherry was different. She didn't care about his status, his wealth, or his influence. To her, he was just another player trying to cut in line, and she wasn't having it.

This only made him more determined. Week after week, he returned to the club, each time arriving a little earlier, each time hoping to catch her before she left. But no matter how early he arrived, she always seemed to slip through his fingers.

Mu Feiyu watched his boss’s growing obsession with a mix of amusement and concern. He had never seen Muyang so fixated on anything—or anyone—before. It was almost comical, the way the most powerful man in the country was being thwarted by a woman who refused to play by his rules.

“Sir,” Feiyu ventured one evening as they left the club empty-handed yet again, “perhaps it's time to consider a different approach.”

Muyang raised an eyebrow. “What do you suggest?”

Feiyu hesitated. “Maybe, tell the former chairman? I don't think that she would be able to turn down an invitation from your grandfather. If not for fear of the powerful, then at least out of respect for the elderly, she would have to show up. Better still, you can meet her father. He's pretty easy.”

“I have no interest in getting others involved in something so simple. I can handle this myself.” The poor secretary's concern for his boss was met with a dismissive attitude.

He couldn't help murmuring under his breath, “if you had this under control you would have known to let go by now.”

Muyang laughed, but there was no humor in it. Somehow he managed to hear the words being muttered by his assistant. He had only caught the part of the grumble where Feiyu said'let go'. “Let it go? Do you know who I am?”

Feiyu sighed. He did know who Muyang was, and that was precisely why he was worried.

But now, all was well. After navigating Thursday night traffic, Muyang finally made it in time to play a game with her. He walked in confidently and took a seat at the table. The old assistant, Mr. Mu, came to the table and delivered his message.

“Miss, after this game, there is someone who would like to play against you,” Old Mu said politely, his tone respectful but firm.

“Who is that? Who is trying to cut in line here? After Song, it's my turn,” Old Man Ma argued, his voice rising in indignation.

Mr. Mu leaned in and whispered something into Mr. Ma's ear. Cherry couldn't hear what they said, but she guessed it was someone they couldn't easily turn down.

“It doesn't matter who it is. My game follows my rules. All players must be written down in advance. It's unfair to switch up the list for someone who just arrived. Tell this person that if he wants to play, he should come at 7 p.m. and write his name down. After this round, I'll be going up against Mr. Ma,” she stated bluntly, before placing her chip down and winning against Old Man Song in one swift move.

The old secretary reported the matter to his boss fearfully. Muyang's temper was well-known by everyone in high society. As he spoke, he expected to hear a glass get smashed or a table overturned. But, to his surprise, all Muyang did was laugh.

It was such an odd reaction that the father and son, Mr. Mu and Mu Feiyu looked at each other, puzzled. Old Mu glanced at his son for answers, but Feiyu looked right back at him in equal confusion.

“Add my name to the list next week,” Muyang simply ordered before taking his leave. As he walked past Mr. Ma, who was getting beaten at his own game, he could only comfort himself by thinking,"Next week will be my turn."

But the next week came, and Cherry said, “If the player isn't here, they can't have a match booked. I won't see this person you are signing up for, Mr. Mu.”

And just like that, the twenty-second week came to pass, and it still wasn't Muyang's turn.