This was another one of Chen Zhuyue's subtle intentions.
The invitation showed she was considerate; mentioning his packed schedule showed she was thoughtful and knew her place.
"What time is it now?"
Zhao Linye asked. The windshield partition had already been removed. Secretary Cheng replied, "It's just past eleven, almost lunchtime."
He lifted his gaze and glanced outside. Chen Zhuyue had straightened up from her bent posture—a delicate, pretty girl, like the freshest and most beautiful flower of this summer day.
Zhao Linye's gaze swept over her as he asked, "Can you cook?"
Secretary Cheng's ears perked up.
"A little, just home-style dishes. Chairman, what do you mean?"
Chen Zhuyue asked, the joy that burst forth in her eyes hotter than the sun overhead.
It was genuine—a sincerity with not a trace of calculation.
Zhao Linye fixed his gaze on her for a moment, then pushed open the car door.
Chen Zhuyue's rental was a one-bedroom, one-living-room unit, about 65 square meters.
It was an old neighborhood with steep stairs, each step requiring care.
But the room was kept spotless—curtains with a floral checkered pattern, and a liver-colored patterned floor.
Stepping inside felt like instantly entering an eighties atmosphere.
Chen Zhuyue said apologetically, "Chairman Zhao, my cooking is average, and I don't know what you like to eat. Would you like to name a couple of dishes, and I'll make them?"
The refrigerator was an old model—a green Wanbao brand that had long been discontinued, though it had a remarkably long lifespan.
Zhao Linye swept his gaze across the room without revealing anything, then looked at her with calm eyes. "I'm not picky. Anything works."
Having given in to a momentary softness and followed this girl upstairs, Zhao Linye felt his actions had been somewhat impulsive.
As the chairman of the Shengjing Chamber of Commerce, countless people watched his every move, his schedule, his meals—all hoping to carve out a piece for themselves. He never made exceptions for anyone.
And now, this was the first time.
"Alright then. There are tomatoes, eggs, a bunch of greens, and a piece of meat in the fridge. Chairman Zhao, is plain rice okay? For the dishes, how about tomato scrambled eggs and boiled pork slices—one meat, one vegetable. Will that suit you? Can you handle spicy?"
Chen Zhuyue seemed not to notice the cold distance in his eyes, only feeling exhilarated.
And this excitement wasn't the physical kind a woman feels toward a man—it was the thrill of having taken another step closer to him.
Winning over this man meant holding the fate of the Chen family in her own hands.
She had to seize this opportunity.
"That's fine."
Zhao Linye looked at the clean, tidy sofa and, despite his slight germophobia, sat down.
Even if he'd been somewhat impulsive, he was never one to regret his decisions.
Taking a wrong step didn't matter; what mattered was being able to smooth things over and make amends.
That was the art of it.
Zhao Linye lowered his gaze to survey the furniture—everything was old and worn. His peripheral vision caught the bathroom door slightly ajar, and with a breeze, the scent of soap drifted out, fresh and clean.
His gaze deepened, paused briefly, then he looked away.
In one corner of the refrigerator hung a black umbrella. He recognized it—it was his.
The handle bore the Chamber of Commerce logo, and the quality was excellent.
Seeing the umbrella, his mind involuntarily drifted to the woman beneath it—her lovely features, her striking figure, fair, full, radiant.
But quickly, that involuntary thought was suppressed.
Chairman Zhao was still Chairman Zhao—sparing with words, yet each one carrying immense weight.
"Chairman Zhao, the food will be ready soon. Would you like to wash your hands first?"
Chen Zhuyue had tied up her loose hair and came out of the kitchen drying her hands, the light in her eyes sincere and pure.
Joy meant only for him.
Zhao Linye, standing at a high position, had seen too many people. Everyone who approached him wanted to extract some benefit from him.
But Chen Zhuyue was simple. Even if she wanted to scheme at something, she said it openly and honestly—so candid it made him reluctant to be harsh.
His palm twitched. Looking at her fluffy head of hair, he thought of how people these days liked keeping pets—that kind of emotional resonance was something his monotonous work life could never provide.
"Alright."
He closed his palm and rose to head toward the bathroom. The old-style layout had a simple washbasin, on which sat a bar of soap—a classic domestic brand.
This girl was sentimental.
When he came out, the food was already set on the table—one meat dish, one vegetable, a bowl of white rice, along with two glasses of orange juice and two glasses of plain water.
Chen Zhuyue said apologetically, "Chairman, I don't have any alcohol at home, and I didn't know what you'd like to drink, so I prepared both juice and water."
She had already shifted from "you" (formal) to "you" (informal).
"Plain water."
Zhao Linye glanced at it and sat down at the table. Chen Zhuyue quickly moved the orange juice away.
Secretary Cheng, as his secretary, hadn't come up this time, and Chen Zhuyue was sharp enough not to ask about it.
She simply picked up her chopsticks and said, "Chairman, there are serving chopsticks here. Eat whatever you like. My cooking isn't great—just home-style flavors, nothing compared to professional chefs."
Zhao Linye said nothing. He picked up his chopsticks, took a bite of the tomato scrambled eggs, furrowed his brow slightly, then tried a slice of boiled pork. After that, he set down his chopsticks.
Chen Zhuyue watched him without blinking, a flicker of unease stirring in her heart: taking one bite of each dish—was it good, or not?
But she didn't dare ask.
This was only their third meeting, and the fact that Zhao Linye had agreed to come upstairs was already a tremendous honor.
Haste makes waste. Today's invitation was purely an expression of gratitude, nothing more.
She couldn't say too much; everything had to proceed slowly.
Leaving a hook, leaving an opening, leaving a topic for next time—that was the wisest strategy.
A man had to be reeled in; he had to develop feelings on his own.
Seeing her gaze fixed on him, Zhao Linye let the flavors he'd tasted linger across his palate, then pointed at the tomato and scrambled eggs and remarked, "Too salty."
He gestured at the boiled pork slices. "Too bland."
Chen Zhuyue opened her mouth, her small face flushing crimson as she said sheepishly, "I… I'm not very good at cooking."
"Cooking is like saving lives. Both require care, both require diligence. Miss Chen is a doctor—you should understand this better than most."
Zhao Linye rose to leave, and Chen Zhuyue, flustered, blurted out, "Chairman, if I learn to cook properly by next time, could I invite you again?"
Zhao Linye's movement paused slightly, but he quickly resumed his fluid motion, neither refusing nor agreeing: "Learn first."
The white rice sat untouched on the table as he pulled the door open and stepped out. Chen Zhuyue went to see him off, but Zhao Linye signaled her to stop, his steady, unreadable gaze settling on her face: "Miss Chen is innocent by nature. In the future, don't casually invite men upstairs."
"But Chairman Zhao isn't just anyone…" Chen Zhuyue murmured. Zhao Linye lowered his eyes to her, the corners of his lips curving upward ever so slightly before falling again, and he turned and left.
The car downstairs drove off. Chen Zhuyue hurried back into the room and watched its departure from the window.
Secretary Cheng glanced back through the rearview mirror and caught the relaxed look on Zhao Linye's face.
Seemed he was in a good mood.
"Chairman, Miss Chen seems like a fresh college graduate—quite naive."
Zhao Linye looked up, his tone languid: "In this society, naivety is stupidity."
A woman's beauty was a ticket to high society, a knock on the door to power.
With beauty alone and no real skill, she couldn't protect herself.
She'd only be at others' mercy.
"Chairman, where to now?" Secretary Cheng asked, driving steadily. It was already 12:50 in the afternoon.
"Back to the chamber. Lunch."
Secretary Cheng: ??? So, did you just go up there to survey the terrain and check on the masses?
…
The dishes were still laid out on the table. Zhao Linye's so-called meal had been just one bite of each, the rice untouched. And the medical questions he'd said he wanted to ask—had he forgotten, or had he just mentioned them casually?
Chen Zhuyue couldn't tell.
She still couldn't figure out what this man was thinking, or whether he was drawn to her at all.
She sat at the table, thinking for a long while, then slowly ate the two dishes by herself.
Father Chen called, asking how things were going and telling her to stay safe.
Chen Zhuyue answered, reporting only the good news: "Dad, I'm fine, don't worry. Shengjing is great too—I got into Chan Gong and met Chairman Zhao. Don't worry, I'll be careful."
Father Zhao's voice carried weariness, along with the anxiety and unease he'd been suppressing for days: "Yueyue, if you can't get through to Chairman Zhao, just come home. We've saved up a bit over the years, and the hospital sale will bring in more. We can live a good life in the countryside. You can't fight the powers that be—your safety matters most."
Chen Zhuyue fell silent: Should she keep enduring?
They said taking a step back opens up the horizon, but for the Chen family, a step back meant falling into an abyss.
That formula was the Chen family's root, her father's very life.
"Dad," Chen Zhuyue said softly, "if this path doesn't work, we'll find another. Shengjing is full of the powerful and privileged—there's always someone more formidable than Zhao Linye."