Sunlight squeezed through the gap in the floor-to-ceiling curtains, drawing a long golden line across the carpet.
The curtains had not been fully closed, and several strands of light landed directly on Wen Xi’s face, making her squint.
She stared at the unfamiliar ceiling for several seconds before finally realizing—
this was Fu Linfeng’s villa.
Last night…
Everything that had happened the night before rushed back into her mind like a tidal wave. Her face instantly burned red. She buried her face in the pillow and let out a muffled sound.
After lying there for a long while, she finally propped herself up slowly with her arms.
The blanket slipped down, exposing the bluish-red marks scattered across her shoulders and arms—not injuries, but hickeys.
Dark and light traces spread from her collarbone all the way to her shoulders like flower petals scattered over snow, startling to look at.
Wen Xi glanced at them once, and her face grew even redder. She hurriedly pulled the blanket back up and wrapped herself tightly.
She tried getting out of bed. The moment her feet touched the carpet, her legs gave out and she nearly collapsed to her knees.
The soreness made her frown. She grabbed onto the bedside table to steady herself, paused for several seconds, then slowly shuffled toward the bathroom.
As she passed the vanity, she noticed something extra on the tabletop—
a white tube of ointment, with a folded note placed beside it.
Wen Xi picked it up and unfolded it.
The handwriting on the note was sharp and forceful, exactly the same as the note from yesterday:
“Apply it where it hurts. Save my number. —Fu”
Just one short sentence. No unnecessary words.
Wen Xi held the note in her hand and froze for several seconds, a strange feeling rising in her chest.
When had he left it there? Before leaving this morning? She had slept so deeply that she had not noticed anything at all.
She flipped the note over. Sure enough, a phone number was written on the back, the pen strokes strong enough to cut through the paper.
Carefully, she placed the note back on the vanity and picked up the ointment to examine it.
The packaging was covered in foreign text she could not understand, but she could guess what it was for.
Her ears turned red again. Holding the ointment tightly, she hesitated for a long time before finally turning and walking into the bathroom.
After showering, Wen Xi discovered that the walk-in closet had changed.
When she first arrived yesterday, the closet had been almost empty—only a few lonely hangers hanging from the rail.
Now, the left side of the closet was filled with neatly arranged clothes organized by color. Everyday shirts, knit tops, and several minimalist dresses hung there in perfect order.
The lower shelves held soft loungewear and pajamas—nothing like the one from last night, but proper, comfortable clothes she could actually wear normally.
One drawer had been left slightly open. She glanced inside and saw brand-new undergarments in exactly her size.
Wen Xi stood there, fingers brushing lightly across the fabrics. They felt soft and expensive.
Every single piece was her size.
She did not know when these things had been prepared.
Maybe last night. Maybe early this morning.
She also did not know who had arranged it—Fu Linfeng or the butler.
But somehow, she felt that the cold pinewood scent lingering in the closet matched the style of the clothes perfectly: simple, restrained, without anything unnecessary.
She spent a long time choosing before finally picking a white shirt dress with a small folded collar that conveniently hid the marks on her neck.
The hem stopped slightly above her knees, elegant and simple.
She found a pair of light-colored flats and put them on. Then she glanced at herself in the full-length mirror tucked into the corner of the closet—
the girl in the mirror looked completely different from yesterday.
No more faded old dress. No more dusty sneakers.
The white shirt dress made her pale skin appear even fairer. Her half-dried hair draped over her shoulders, and her entire appearance looked fresh and clean, like a gardenia flower washed by rain.
Only a faint reddish mark could still be seen peeking out from beneath the edge of her collar.
Wen Xi quickly tugged the collar higher. After confirming it was covered, she finally let out a sigh of relief.
Back at the vanity, she picked up her phone and carefully typed in the number digit by digit, saving the contact under the name “Fu Linfeng.”
She stared at those three words on the screen for two seconds, then felt it sounded too stiff, so she changed it to “President Fu.”
After thinking again, that suddenly felt too distant.
In the end, she bit her lip and directly tapped the button to add him on WeChat. She pasted in the phone number and searched—
a profile appeared.
A pure black profile picture with no design at all. His Moments were visible for only three days, and the personal signature section was blank.
Wen Xi took a deep breath and pressed “Add to Contacts.” In the verification message, she typed two words:
“Wen Xi.”
Send.
Then she flipped her phone face-down onto the vanity, her heartbeat inexplicably speeding up.
She told herself: it was just saving a contact. Contract husband and wife. Completely normal.
Downstairs, the servants were already busy at work.
When Wen Xi walked down the spiral staircase, a young maid immediately came forward to greet her. Her attitude was far more respectful than the two nannies from yesterday.
“Miss Wen, breakfast is ready. President Fu instructed us that you can eat whatever you like. There’s no need to wait for you to wake up—you may come downstairs whenever you wish.”
Wen Xi felt slightly overwhelmed by the courtesy and nodded quickly.
“Thank you.”
The maid led her into the dining room.
The dining table was a long dark wooden one large enough to seat ten people, but only one set of tableware had been prepared at the end where she sat. A snow-white tablecloth covered the table. Several dishes had already been set out: a bowl of warm porridge, a few delicate side dishes, freshly fried eggs, two slices of golden toast with jam and butter on the side, and a glass of milk at the perfect temperature.
Wen Xi sat down and took a spoonful of porridge.
Century egg and lean pork porridge.
The seasoning was perfect, the rice cooked soft and smooth, warm without being too hot.
She paused.
She had never told anyone that this was her favorite kind of porridge.
Maybe it was just coincidence.
As she ate, she turned over the phone she had left face-down on the table.
WeChat popped open—
there was a red “1” in the contacts section.
Her request had been accepted.
Wen Xi’s heartbeat skipped.
She stared at the pure black profile picture and looked at the automatic system message in the chat box:
“I’ve accepted your friend request. You can now start chatting.”
Her fingers hovered above the keyboard as she debated whether she should send something.
But what could she even say?
“Thank you for the ointment”? Too awkward.
“You worked hard last night”? What was she even thinking?
She hesitated for a long while before ultimately sending nothing and exiting the chat.
As long as he accepted her request, that was enough.
Meanwhile, at Fu Group Corporation headquarters, top-floor conference room.
The atmosphere was strangely subtle.
Fu Linfeng sat at the head of the long table with a quarterly report spread before him. The Finance Director stood in front of the projection screen, pointing at charts on the PPT presentation while passionately analyzing last quarter’s revenue figures.
“…Overall, the growth rate in the East China region increased by 3.2 percent compared to the previous quarter, mainly due to—”
The conference room was filled with more than twenty executives. Some lowered their heads to flip through documents, some stared at the projection screen, while others wrote notes.
Everything looked perfectly normal except for one thing—
Fu Linfeng’s phone vibrated.
The phone lying on the table lit up briefly.
Everyone saw it.
Ordinarily, that would not have been unusual.
A phone vibrating during a meeting was completely normal.
The problem was—
Fu Linfeng never touched his phone during meetings. Not “rarely.” Never.
His phone was always set to silent and placed face-down on the table. No matter how many times it vibrated, he would not even glance at it.
Everyone in the company knew this. Some employees even joked privately that President Fu’s phone turned into a brick during meetings.
But today was different.
The moment the screen lit up, Fu Linfeng’s gaze instinctively shifted toward it.
The Finance Director was still talking, but Fu Linfeng did not hear a single word.
He picked up the phone.
The entire conference room fell silent for a moment.
Not the kind of silence people intentionally created, but the kind where everyone simultaneously forgot to breathe.
The Marketing Director on the left stopped twirling his pen.
The Deputy Operations Director on the right had just lifted his coffee cup and froze midway before it reached his mouth.
The Finance Director standing across the room went blank, forgetting what slide came next in the presentation.
Everyone watched—
their president picked up his phone, unlocked the screen, and glanced at it.
Only two or three seconds.
Then he set the phone back down face-down and lifted his eyes toward the projection screen again.
“Continue.”
His voice sounded as calm as ever, his expression completely unchanged. As though he had merely checked the weather.
But everyone saw it—
when he picked up the phone, the corner of his lips had shifted very slightly.
Not quite a smile. It barely counted as one.
But in this conference room, on Fu Linfeng’s perpetually cold, iceberg-like face, that tiny movement alone was enough to send shockwaves through everyone present.
The Finance Director cleared his throat and continued the presentation, though his voice sounded noticeably weaker than before.
Under the table, the Marketing Director secretly sent a WeChat message to the colleague beside him:
“What’s going on? Did President Fu just look at his phone and smile?”
The reply came instantly:
“I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me.”
“They weren’t.”
“Does he have a girlfriend?”
“Don’t talk nonsense. You know what kind of person President Fu is.”
“Then what was that just now?”
After five seconds of silence, the other person replied with four words:
“The sky is collapsing.”
The meeting continued.
Fu Linfeng leaned back against his chair, long fingers lightly tapping the tabletop. He listened attentively to the reports and occasionally asked sharp questions that caused the presenters to break into cold sweat.
Everything appeared normal.
Except for one thing—
the phone lying face-down on the table was never turned over again.