At 6:00 p.m., Lin Sangyu finally clocked out for the day. It wasn’t until she sent Jiang Wenzhe her location half an hour early that she suddenly remembered the two missed calls from “AAA Jiang Wenzhe.”
Fortunately, however, that familiar jet-black sedan arrived right on time.
Jiang Wenzhe truly was a magnanimous person—a gentleman who didn’t hold a grudge against a petty person.
“Good afternoon,” Lin Sangyu said cheerfully as she slipped into the car.
Birds carried the setting sun, leaving a sliver of orange across the horizon as the sun sank toward the west and day gave way to night.
Her joyful, delighted gaze and his distant, indifferent stare suddenly met across a distance of about half a meter, and the air froze for a second.
Lin Sangyu licked her lips, feeling a little guilty. “Are you mad?”
Jiang Wenzhe’s voice was hoarse. “No.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“But I feel like you’re a little upset.”
“I’m not upset,” Jiang Wenze didn’t want to keep repeating this childish topic—how could he possibly hold a grudge against a kid? Changing the subject, he asked, “How was work today?”
Lin Sangyu answered honestly: “It went pretty well. I ended up getting the job as a receptionist. I also met a really nice girl who’s been great to me and taught me a lot.”
Jiang Wenzhe heard the voice in his heart take on a tangible form: “So, are you coming back to work here tomorrow?”
“To be honest, I don’t really want to,” Lin Sangyu said earnestly. “I’ve been through a lot today. First, I feel like I’m not very good at this, and second, I feel…”
Lin Sangyu swallowed hard and forced the rest of her words back.
Sure enough, Lin Sangyu couldn’t handle this kind of hardship.
So he’d just have to reluctantly teach her. Based on his assessment and observation, Lin Sangyu seemed slow—and in fact, she really was.
Now she had one more flaw: she was delicate and lacked confidence.
Therefore, he could only have her serve as his assistant for the time being—keeping a close eye on her at all times, teaching her, managing her, and guiding her along the path he’d laid out for her, ensuring she followed his will.
Only this way would it be best for her.
She should become his dodder vine, clinging to the path he had laid out, every inch of her branches firmly gripped in his palm—unable to escape or break free.
Perhaps one day, Lin Sangyu might feel he was meddling too much.
But that’s fine; he’d simply prune away the tangled branches.
“Don’t pay any attention to what they say—he’s just trying to deny your worth so he can have you on the cheap.”
After saying that, Jiang Wenzhe spoke again, convinced he was showing great compassion: “If you don’t want to be a receptionist anymore, then don’t be one. You can come work at my company as my assistant. I’ll take you under my wing.”
Lin Sangyu shot him a puzzled look: “Aren’t you bankrupt?”
“……”
The boomerang was late, but it arrived.
Jiang Wenzhe’s Adam’s apple bobbed. A few seconds later, he forced down the strange feeling in his heart and decided to come clean: “The whole bankruptcy thing—I lied to you.”
“What?” Lin Sangyu sat up straight instantly, jerking her head up to look at him, a distinct look of shock flashing across her eyes.
The man’s face was utterly expressionless, like a silent, desolate deep pool—calm and emotionless—and the words he spoke made Lin Sangyu feel as if she’d been plunged into an ice cellar.
A chill that pierced her heart stung her entire body, and she murmured again, “What exactly does that mean?”
“It means I didn’t go bankrupt. Shouldn’t you be happy about that?”
Lin Sangyu fought back the stinging in her eyes, bit her lip, and asked in a slightly raised voice, “Am I supposed to be happy?”
Even the slightest flush stood out starkly against her fair, delicate complexion. Tears welled up in Lin Sangyu’s eyes as she stared intently at Jiang Wenzhe, as if determined to spot the slightest crack in his expression.
Jiang Wenzhe continued to state his point: “I don’t understand what you’re upset about.”
He remained as cold as ever, his gaze sweeping down from top to bottom over Lin Sangyu without wavering. After years of ups and downs in the business world, Jiang Wenzhe had long since learned to keep his true feelings hidden.
“I hate you!” Lin Sangyu finally snapped. She reached for the car door handle but couldn’t pull it open. At that moment, her tears burst forth like a flood. Crying, she shouted at Jiang Wenzhe, “I hate you! I’m getting out of this car—I’m done with you!”
But deep inside, a tsunami was raging within him.
An uncontrollable wave of frustration spread from the top of his head throughout his entire body. Jiang Wenzhe leaned down and pulled Lin Sangyu back against him, using one hand to restrain her struggling arms while the other hurriedly wiped away the large, falling tears she was shedding one by one. His expression, frozen for years, finally showed a slight crack as he said, “Why are you crying? Stop crying.”
The driver, sensing the tension, was quick to pick up on the situation. He immediately pulled the car over to the side of the road, got out on his own, and left the two of them alone in the car.
“I’m going to cry. It’s none of your business.”
Jiang Wenzhe exhaled and softened his tone: “Is it just because I lied to you?”
Lin Sangyu stopped struggling and looked at Jiang Wenzhe; after three seconds, she nodded.
Jiang Wenzhe spoke with rare patience: “I lied to you because I was afraid you’d just laze around at home and lose touch with society. Since you’re living as a human being, you should do it right.”
“So that’s why you lied to me.”
Jiang Wenzhe wanted to say “I’m sorry,” but after weighing his words several times, he held it back. Instead, he said, “I won’t lie to you again, okay?”
Lin Sangyu wanted to argue and stay angry a little longer, but deep down, she knew she really had nothing to be angry about.
Human industrialization was advancing at a pace that animals could scarcely believe. Relying on their innate primate advantages, humans were aggressively encroaching on every patch of land on Earth. Animal habitats were dwindling, and as a sugar glider, the resources she could access for survival were growing increasingly scarce.
Becoming human—and supporting herself in human form—was, in fact, only a matter of time.
It was just that Jiang Wenzhe, cloaked in deception, was like an early autumn frost—with an irresistible force, he was urging her to quickly shed her youthful green and yellow hues, forcing her to bear ripe fruit.
Moreover, even if she had to take a step back and consider the worst-case scenario, if she hadn’t happened to meet Jiang Wenzhe, she might have starved to death long ago.
Lin Sangyu replayed the little moments she’d shared with Jiang Wenzhe over the past three months in her mind, reaffirming once again that he was a good person. There was just one thing she still didn’t quite understand. Blowing her nose, she asked, “All right, but I have one more question. Since we’re not bankrupt, why did you ask me to come out here and wash dishes? Do you think I’m so useless that I can only do this kind of work?”
“I don’t think that at all,” Jiang Wenzhe released the white hands he’d been holding tightly and instead gently squeezed Lin Sangyu’s palm. “When I asked you to go out and find a job before, it was because I didn’t want you to live in my shadow. I wanted you to get out there as much as possible, explore the world, and find a job you actually enjoy.”
“Then why are you making me work at your company now, as your assistant?”
Night fell in earnest, swallowing the last traces of white from the sky.
Behind Jiang Wenzhe, the lights of countless homes shone, the city’s neon signs dazzling and vibrant, their glow spilling across the streets as light and shadow danced. Half-sincere, half-deceptive, he said, “Because I was afraid you’d be working too hard—so I’ve changed my mind.”
Lin Sangyu was walking on the side of the road. Jiang Wenzhe noticed a young couple walking hand in hand as they passed by. They were wearing matching outfits. The boy suddenly pulled his hand away and tugged at the girl’s ponytail, then ran forward at breakneck speed, looking like a mischievous kid who was just asking to be smacked. The girl immediately flew into a rage; as soon as she realized what had happened, she took off after him.
The two ran through the soft moonlight, radiating youth and vitality, their laughter echoing through the streets.
Jiang Wenzhe turned his gaze back to Lin Sangyu. Her delicate, pretty face was still streaked with tears, and the tip of her nose was slightly flushed, making her look pitifully endearing.
A thought struck him, and Jiang Wenze suddenly recalled the photo his bodyguard had sent that morning.
That photo clearly showed Lin Sangyu walking side by side with a young boy about her age down a hotel corridor bathed in sunlight.
In that moment, Jiang Wenze suddenly realized that Lin Sangyu was no longer the sugar glider he had kept caged at home, but a living, breathing person—someone with her own thoughts and the freedom to act independently.
He could no longer confine her by shutting the doors and windows of their home. Now that she had become a fully-fledged person, all it would take was for him to open a window, and she would flap her wings and soar through the sky—a sky without him.
But Lin Sangyu’s nature was clear and pure; she had not been tempered by the world and had never seen the true, hidden divisions and self-interest lurking within society. Once he cast her—still so naive—into real life, the jagged edges of reality would sooner or later shatter her enthusiasm and innocence.
What’s more, she is so beautiful and innocent, yet once she enters society, she’ll be stuck at the very bottom. Her beauty might even become a dagger turned against her.
The young man she met this time might be a good person—but what about after that?
Will Lin Sangyu be blinded by those with ulterior motives? Or will she be deceived, seduced, or lured? Or might she even end up with one of them?
Jiang Wenzhe kept asking himself these questions.
Lin Sangyu was clearly the one he had taken in first; it was he who had nurtured her—when she was emaciated and on the brink of starvation—into the person she is today.
It was a sense of loss of control, mixed with unease, bewilderment, anxiety, and a hint of jealousy.
Jiang Wenzhe would not allow this feeling to exist.
After seeing that photo, he decided almost without a moment’s thought that he would never again give Lin Sangyu any chance to escape from under his wing.
Let him cling to her like a shadow.
So, he told another lie.
“Because I was afraid you’d have it too hard.” Lin Sangyu mulled over those words, and suddenly felt like crying again. Back at the orphanage, the director had instructed everyone to wash their own plates after meals. But because she was often bullied, she frequently had to wash twenty or thirty plates in a single meal.
Winters in the north were exceptionally cold, and the water was even colder—almost frozen. Lin Sangyu, wearing only a thin cotton coat, spent day after day with her tender hands soaked in the dirty, greasy dishwater, enduring one costly winter after another.
Lin Sangyu suddenly threw her arms around Jiang Wenzhe, burying her head against his chest like a small animal desperate for affection. Her voice was hoarse, trailing off with a cloying inflection: “I’m not mad anymore. Let’s make up.”
Jiang Wenzhe returned her embrace, lowering his head to rest it in the crook of Lin Sangyu’s neck. Her hair brushed against his cheek, carrying the faint, sweet scent of a young girl.
The two held each other tightly, fitting together like a perfectly matched mortise and tenon, as if there had never been the slightest gap between them from the very beginning.
“Come to work at the company tomorrow,” Jiang Wenze said.
The very next second, he distinctly felt the person in his arms stiffen.
Lin Sangyu pushed Jiang Wenze away. Her gaze flickered for a moment, but after a brief pause, she met his dark eyes directly and said, “Jiang Wenze, I don’t want to work at your company.”