On a Monday afternoon, the Gu Group hosted a business reception—an established industry tradition meant to foster connections and exchange information.
As the Mr.’s secretary, Wen Yu naturally had to oversee every detail personally to ensure everything ran flawlessly.
She wore a sapphire-blue floor-length gown, its design sleek and elegant—understated yet perfectly poised. Her long hair was coiled up, revealing a graceful swan-like neck, and her makeup was delicately applied. Standing beside Gu Huaizhi, she greeted guests with impeccable poise.
Her heels were soft, but hours of standing were taking their toll. Her calves ached, yet she endured, silently wishing the evening would end.
Midway through the reception, a young Mr. from a partner firm—Mr. Zhao—approached with his assistant to speak with Gu Huaizhi.
Mr. Zhao was around 34, roughly Gu Huaizhi’s age. Gentle and refined, he was the very opposite of Gu Huaizhi’s frosty demeanor. After settling business matters, he turned his attention to Wen Yu and smiled warmly.
“Mr. Gu, your Secretary Wen is truly exceptional—capable and lovely. That project would never have gone so smoothly without her coordination.”
Wen Yu inclined her head with a professional smile. “You flatter me, Mr. Zhao. It was simply my duty.”
Clearly impressed, Mr. Zhao did not leave. Instead, he engaged her in conversation about industry trends. Politeness kept Wen Yu talking, and they chatted briefly.
Gu Huaizhi stood to one side, glass in hand, taking occasional sips. His gaze rested on the pair, eyes narrowing, dark and unreadable.
From his angle, Wen Yu appeared thoroughly enjoying herself, laughing openly at something Mr. Zhao had said. She felt a sudden chill—odd, given the room temperature—and discreetly rubbed her arms, the movement hidden from Gu Huaizhi’s view.
When Mr. Zhao was called away, the conversation ended. After that, Wen Yu noticed Gu Huaizhi spoke even less. Though he continued interacting with guests, his aura grew increasingly frigid and unapproachable.
Relieved when the reception ended, Wen Yu joined him in the car. Freed from her heels, she rubbed her aching calves. Gu Huaizhi leaned back, eyes closed, his jaw set tight.
Baffled by his mood swings, Wen Yu turned to gaze out the window. They say women are unpredictable, she thought, but men’s moods are even more elusive.
Silence stretched between them—a familiar quiet. Knowing he preferred peace, she rarely initiated conversation. After all, he was her patron; she respected his ways.
Back at the apartment, she changed her shoes and turned on the lights. “Mr. Gu, I’m going to wash up first,” she said, hoping to slip away unnoticed before his mood worsened.
Just as she turned, his hand clamped around her wrist. She looked up, startled, and met his gaze—no longer cool and detached, but burning with suppressed fury. His eyes cut like blades through the dark, lips pressed into a hard line.
He pulled her sharply toward him, his other hand fastening around her waist, and pinned her firmly against the cold wall.
“Enjoying your chat with that Mr. Zhao?” His voice was low, veins bulging at his temples.
Confused, she tried to explain. “Mr. Gu, that was strictly professional.”
“Professional?” He gave a bitter laugh, his grip tightening. “Is that why you were beaming at him like that?”
“Gu Huaizhi! What are you doing?” Pain flared where he held her. She struggled, frightened by this unfamiliar, volatile side of him.
“What am I doing?” He leaned close, his breath hot against her ear, rough and dangerous. “Reminding you of your place.”
Before she could reply, he kissed her—harsh, punishing, claiming her lips. He pinned her hands above her head, his body trapping hers, leaving her helpless. Her eyes flew wide open as she stared at his face, consumed by possession.
Resignation washed over her—grief, anger, shame rising in a wave. She had stood by him all evening, worked tirelessly, and this was her reward? My place? She was nothing more than a contract lover—running his days, managing his women, warming his bed—denied even a moment of courtesy with another man?
She stopped fighting, went limp, passive as a puppet beneath his hungry, angry kisses.
Eventually, the storm subsided. He pulled away, breathing hard, staring at her pale, hollow-eyed face. A flicker of unease stirred in his chest, quickly buried. He straightened his shirt, his tone returning to icy formality, though stiff with tension. “Go take a shower.”
Discomfited by her silence, he turned and strode toward the second bathroom.
Wen Yu went to her room, changed, and stepped under the shower. Hot water cascaded over her, but she felt drained, hollowed out. The resolve to leave hardened in her heart. This is just a transaction, she told herself. Expect nothing more.
In the other room, Gu Huaizhi stood before the mirror, unsettled. What is wrong with me? He wondered. The sight of her laughing with another man had ignited something he could not control—something his friend Lu Chen had once hinted at.
The next day, Wen Yu took sick leave. She spent the day in bed, exhausted.