*She’s from the Yuan Family*
One of the representatives from Weizhi Media slammed the table in outrage.
“This is outrageous!”
The representative beside him, though more composed, still wore a stormy expression as he said coldly, “Miss Yan, if you didn’t come here with sincerity, then please leave.”
“Who said I’m not sincere?” Yan Linda shook the paper contract in her hand. “This is my sincerity. Can’t you see it?”
Her patience had run out. She tossed the contract onto the table.
“One question—are you signing or not?”
At that moment, the assistant who had gone downstairs earlier to meet Yan Linda suddenly rushed into the room, looking flustered as though trying to deliver urgent news to the negotiators.
But before she could speak, the sound of footsteps echoed from the corridor outside, cutting her off.
The conference room door was flung open from the outside by a bodyguard.
The next second—
Yuan Lai appeared in the doorway, now dressed sharply in formal attire.
Her gaze swept over the messy contract scattered on the table. With calm composure, she said, “It seems the negotiations aren’t going too smoothly.”
Without waiting for anyone’s reaction, she strode over and took the empty seat at the head of the table.
That seat had originally been reserved for one of Weizhi Media’s senior executives, who had deliberately held back to make the other party wait and lose face. But before he could make his entrance, Yuan Lai had already claimed the spot.
Two bodyguards flanked her sides—sunglasses, tailored suits, built like walls of muscle. They were nothing like the office-bound figures sitting around the table.
Yuan Lai leaned back in the chair, arms resting loosely on the armrests, one leg crossed over the other, her posture utterly relaxed—radiating the message that she didn’t regard these people as worth her attention.
It was as if she’d turned their turf into her own home ground.
Ignoring the tense silence in the room, she directly inserted herself into the negotiation.
“So, where were we?”
She picked up the contract no one had dared touch, flipping through it with casual ease.
As she read, she nodded. “I think this is a pretty good draft.” She looked up. “You’re refusing to let Song Qingxu go?”
The representative who had slammed the table earlier had been stunned by her entourage of bodyguards, but now he found his voice again. He stiffened his neck and stepped forward.
“And who might you be?” he said with a sarcastic edge. “These days, any random stray can stroll into our company?”
He shouted toward the door, “Security! Get these irrelevant people out of here!”
The assistant tried to rush over to shut him up, but the distance was too great, and the man spoke far too quickly—every ill-chosen word already out of his mouth.
The assistant blinked at him frantically in warning.
Assistant, internally: For heaven’s sake, shut up!
Security didn’t move. Instead, it was Yuan Lai’s bodyguards who stepped forward.
Yuan Lai smiled and said, “You’re right. Irrelevant people really shouldn’t stay here.”
At her glance, her bodyguards moved in and escorted the man out without resistance from the others in the room.
“You’re crazy! Do you know who I am?!” the man shouted, struggling in vain. “Security! Where the hell is security?!”
Once the “irrelevant person” was gone, Yuan Lai asked, “So, who here actually has the authority to make decisions?”
The more level-headed representative stepped forward.
Yuan Lai pushed the contract toward him.
“Sign it.”
He glanced at her cautiously, then at his colleagues behind him.
“If you won’t sign, I’ll just have someone else do it,” Yuan Lai said lazily, leaning back and stifling a yawn. She was still running on too little sleep after their island trip, and once this was done, she planned to go home and nap.
The assistant leaned over and whispered urgently, “Sign it—she’s from the Yuan family!”
The representative hesitated, still trying to figure out which Yuan family.
“Don’t overthink it,” the assistant urged, her voice quickening. “It’s exactly the Yuan family you’re thinking of!” Finally able to share the intel she’d gathered, her expression relaxed in relief.
Upon hearing that, the representative didn’t hesitate any longer. His pen flew across the page, and the contract was signed in moments.
Then, with a broad smile, he held it out with both hands.
“My apologies for making you wait, Miss Yuan.”
Yuan Lai took the contract and gave a small nod to Yan Linda. Their group had arrived suddenly and left just as quickly.
The assistant in the conference room exhaled in relief, collapsing into a chair.
Finally, the Buddha had been sent on her way.
The others, still sweating, exchanged uneasy glances.
“When did Song Qingxu get involved with the Yuan family?” one asked.
“Maybe Miss Yuan just likes her acting and wants to sign her. Otherwise, what chance would Song Qingxu have to even meet someone from that family?”
“Let’s hope that’s all it is. If she’s really connected to them, our company…”
“Don’t borrow trouble—focus on how we’re going to explain this to the higher-ups.”
Yuan Lai couldn’t care less about what they thought. Contract in hand, she left in high spirits. From now on, Song Qingxu would no longer be shackled by this lousy company.
With her mission accomplished, she dismissed her people and headed home—to where Song Qingxu was.
When she arrived, she found that Song Qingxu had already gone to her room. Yuan Lai only turned on a dim night light; not wanting to disturb her, she tiptoed into the kitchen.
She was both hungry and tired. She hadn’t touched the unappetizing airplane food, and as soon as the plane landed, she’d barely said goodbye—just left Song Qingxu with a quick, “You go home first, I’ll be back later,” before hurrying off.
It wasn’t that she hadn’t wanted a proper goodbye. She simply hadn’t had the time—Yan Linda had already gone to Song Qingxu’s company, and Yuan Lai had been afraid she couldn’t handle things alone. So she’d rushed over with bodyguards in tow.
Now, with the new contract secured, she couldn’t wait to share the news. But Song Qingxu was already asleep.
After all that, she hadn’t even had a sip of water, let alone a meal.
Her stomach was now loudly protesting.
She opened the fridge—thankfully, it was stocked with fresh ingredients. At least she wouldn’t be reduced to gnawing on ice cubes.
I’ll just make some noodles, she decided.
Grabbing a handful of greens, she headed for the sink.
Before long, a steaming bowl of clear broth noodles was ready.
She didn’t even bother with the dining table, curling up in a corner of the kitchen and slurping them down.
Meanwhile—
In her room, Song Qingxu sat staring at a pile of seashells, her mind replaying the scene from the plane.
She had no idea where Yuan Lai had rushed off to—changing clothes mid-flight, then bolting the moment they landed, as if every second mattered.
Now she was back to an empty home.
She looked down at the shells in her hands. At least she had them for company.
She hadn’t eaten anything all day except for the sandwich Yuan Lai had made her that morning. Her stomach was starting to ache faintly.
She picked up her cup, intending to get some hot water.
Click—
When she opened her door, she saw the warm glow of a lamp in the living room.
Could Yuan Lai be back?
The thought had barely crossed her mind when she heard sounds from the kitchen.
She walked over, cup in hand.
Inside, Yuan Lai had slowed her eating now that half the noodles were gone, savoring a sip of warm broth that wrapped her stomach in gentle heat.
Until she spotted Song Qingxu in her peripheral vision.
She quickly set the bowl down, her eyes apologetic. “Was I too loud? Did I wake you?”
Song Qingxu shook her head. “I wasn’t asleep.”
Yuan Lai noticed the cup in her hand. “Getting hot water? I’ll get it for you.”
She poured the water and handed it over. “It’s a bit hot—let it cool before drinking.”
When Song Qingxu didn’t leave, her gaze flicked to the noodles.
“You want some?” Yuan Lai asked.
Song Qingxu gave a small nod.
Finally—a chance to show off her skills. Yuan Lai grabbed more ingredients from the fridge.
“It’ll be quick. Go wait in the living room,” she said.
But instead, Song Qingxu rolled up her pajama sleeves and stepped to the sink.
“I’ll help wash the vegetables.”
Her skin was pale to begin with, and the water streaming over her arms made it look even more luminous—like freshly peeled lychee flesh.
Yuan Lai wasn’t a pervert, but she had to admit she stared longer than she should have before looking away.
She told herself it was normal to look at one’s own wife.
The water in the pot was already boiling, so she tossed in the noodles, then drifted back to hover near Song Qingxu.
She washed her hands, poked at the washed greens, then pretended to wipe down the counter.
Song Qingxu paused.
“I feel like I’m slowing you down.”
“Not at all—you’re a huge help,” Yuan Lai insisted, cursing herself for being so obvious that her wife had noticed.
Song Qingxu couldn’t figure out why Yuan Lai kept circling her while making noodles. Was she guarding some secret recipe?
She decided to step out, if only to avoid suspicion.
Without her there, Yuan Lai transformed into a cold, emotionless noodle assassin—laser-focused on getting the dish out fast.
In no time, she emerged with a brimming bowl.
Yup, she was definitely hiding a recipe, Song Qingxu thought.
She picked up her chopsticks and hesitated.
“This…”
“What’s wrong? Too salty? Too bland? You don’t like it?” Yuan Lai asked nervously.
“No,” Song Qingxu said.
In the kitchen earlier, Yuan Lai’s bowl had only had noodles and greens.
Hers, however, was loaded—with tomatoes, a fried egg, beef rolls, mushrooms, ham, greens… and who knew what else beneath the surface.
“My noodles seem… a little different from yours.”
Oh, that’s it! Relieved, Yuan Lai smiled. “I didn’t know which toppings you’d like, so I added a bit of everything.”
Song Qingxu almost asked, So you skipped them all in yours because you don’t like them?
Instead, Song Qingxu sighed and pushed half her toppings into Yuan Lai’s bowl.
“There. Now let’s eat.”
Yuan Lai froze for a beat, then felt a swell of warmth in her chest.
Rounding up—she was sharing a bowl of noodles with her wife.
Rounding up again—this was practically an indirect kiss.