“Dissatisfied, dissatisfied…”
All of them are dissatisfied.
No, that wasn’t right, she thought. Filling all of them as “dissatisfied” looked like some kind of petty revenge—meaningless.
To kill someone, one must strike at the heart.
A wicked smile appeared on her face.
“Do you have any suggestions for your partner?”
None.
Mainly because she was too lazy to write anything.
“Are you sure you want to submit this survey?”
Yes.
She was about to submit when the bathroom door opened—Wen Yan came out. Feeling guilty and a bit annoyed, Qiu Zheng grabbed her charger and went to the living room.
Wen Yan, standing by the wardrobe, paused and watched her walk away.
This had always been their pattern. In bed, they weren’t close; he should have been used to it, in fact, that might have been what he expected from the start.
But now, Wen Yan inexplicably felt an impulse to throw her back onto the bed.
He restrained himself.
They left the room together, entering the elevator, and Qiu Zheng deliberately kept some distance from him.
She remembered the gossip she had occasionally seen about Wen Yan—many described him as having a kind of ascetic, untouchable aura.
Ridiculous.
She had deliberately blackened him in dozens of posts.
In the elevator, there was a couple, probably just coming from a room as well. They were so close, the woman in the man’s arms, appearing like lovers unwilling to be apart even for a moment.
Wen Yan’s gaze lingered on the couple for a moment, then, using the elevator reflection, glanced at Qiu Zheng—not very close, but clearly distant.
He couldn’t quite put his thoughts into words but reached for the hand in his pants pocket, moving his fingers slightly toward Qiu Zheng.
Qiu Zheng, meanwhile, was fiddling with her phone.
She didn’t notice whether his hand was in his pocket or out.
Wen Yan returned his hand to his pocket.
Perhaps leaving the room—the place that made it easy to fall into temptation—helped him regain some rationality.
Good. Who cared if the matching score was zero?
At least it ensured she wouldn’t have any thoughts about him.
Wasn’t that a relief?
He saw Qiu Zheng’s phone screen reflected in the elevator mirror, watching as she typed his name into the search bar.
Wen Yan pressed his lips together, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly.
Actually… obstacles weren’t necessarily a bad thing.
The elevator doors opened. They walked out together, still keeping a respectful distance.
The hotel staff had brought Wen Yan’s car around. This time he didn’t call for a driver—he clearly intended to drive himself.
Qiu Zheng didn’t follow immediately.
When Wen Yan reached the driver’s side, he looked at her. “Get in. I’ll take you back.”
She didn’t move. Her car wasn’t here, but she didn’t want to ride with him either. “It’s far. I’ll take a taxi.”
She looked away, refusing to meet his eyes.
Wen Yan tightened his grip on the car key, finally exhaling, “As you wish.”
Then he got into the car.
This was his usual style—he wouldn’t waste time on trivial things, let alone beg Qiu Zheng to let him drive her home.
Such words were absolutely impossible for him to say.
Yet once in the car, he pressed his lips tightly together, delaying starting the engine.
Being at the hotel entrance, cars behind honked insistently. Qiu Zheng, already holding her phone, glanced over.
Wen Yan’s teeth clenched, but he started the car.
Through the rearview mirror, he saw her lower her head again, presumably ordering a ride—no more glances at him.
The next month would be a period of complete freedom!
Qiu Zheng felt as refreshed as she did during her menstrual period.
If it never came, she’d be anxious. If it did… a bit annoying, and if it surged endlessly, disaster.
Now that it was over, everyone was happy.
She thought about making a quick stop in the city center before heading back.
Suddenly, a car honked.
Looking up, she saw Wen Yan returning, his window rolled down.
Qiu Zheng’s smile froze.
She had let her guard down—like her period, he struck back when least expected.
The normally cold and dignified Wen Yan, unaware of the metaphor, said calmly: “Get in. First, back to the company. Later, I’ll have the driver take you.”
Actually… Qiu Zheng thought he could have sent another driver for her.
Ah, well, one couldn’t avoid all losses.
She got in.
As usual, she sat in the back seat.
It wasn’t the first time Wen Yan had driven her. The car was quiet, as always. Even when alone together, they rarely had anything to talk about.
Qiu Zheng liked this silence.
Until Wen Yan called her name.
“Qiu Zheng.”
Instinctively, she looked up and met his eyes in the rearview mirror. There was something unspoken in them, a hesitation to speak.
A few seconds of eye contact, and Qiu Zheng panicked, leaning forward and grabbing his seat.
“Red light! Red light!”
Wen Yan braked in time, passing slightly over the line but not fully.
Her voice sounded close now, no longer the cold distance from the hotel.
“Focus on driving!” she scolded.
Wen Yan’s brow relaxed slightly, as if releasing a breath.
“Sorry.”
He said softly—whether for the incident or for something else, it was unclear.
Qiu Zheng stayed quiet but, nerves still on edge, leaned forward, keeping a close eye on the road.
Finally, the car reached the company, the driver taking over, and she relaxed back.
A tap on the window. She rolled it down.
“Do you want to schedule a checkup too?” Wen Yan asked. “I’ve already arranged it.”
Qiu Zheng naturally refused, but outright rejection felt slightly guilty, so she replied vaguely: “I’ll do it when I have time.”
He hummed but kept his hand on the window, watching her. After a while, he said again: “Sorry.”
Unlike the previous ambiguous apology, this one was clearly for his loss of control and the marking.
Qiu Zheng was speechless. Did he think this through the whole way to finally say sorry? A bit exasperating.
She waved it off and rolled up the window. Wen Yan finally stepped back.
He stayed until the car disappeared, then didn’t go to the company. Instead, he got into another car and went to the Genetic Management Bureau.
Xu Cheng was waiting. Seeing Wen Yan’s stern face, he didn’t joke and directly led him to the data control center.
Wen Yan saw it firsthand: Qiu Zheng was indeed a 100% match for him, but reversed, his matching score for her was exactly 0.
An unbelievable reality.
The man rested his chin on his hands, staring at the screen.
Xu Cheng cleared his throat: “Actually, even ignoring genetic matching… you should have some attraction to her. And that attraction is real—it has nothing to do with genes or pheromones. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
Seeing Wen Yan unresponsive, Xu Cheng continued: “And that thing you said before about funding our system upgrade—I really took it seriously.”
Wen Yan acted as if he hadn’t heard, rising without expression.
“Does anyone else have this situation?” His tone was professional.
“No, Miss Qiu is the only one.”
“Mm. Keep tracking her, and update me if there’s any news.”
At that moment, a window popped up on the screen:
User 367803275722 Qiu Zheng submitted the survey.
Wen Yan froze momentarily at the name, then sat back down. Xu Cheng, for investment purposes, opened the survey for him: “You asked me to resend it yesterday, and here it is—a survey.”
“Miss Qiu actually filled it out. How obedient and cute.”
At that, he received a dagger-like glare. Xu Cheng quickly changed the topic: “Hey? She gave you a pretty high score too!”
Everyone who knew Qiu Zheng called her “Miss Qiu,” aware of Wen Yan’s internal disagreement.
This was the first time Wen Yan heard her referred to as “sister-in-law.”
He paused briefly, then focused on the screen, ignoring Xu Cheng’s comment about “cute.”
Indeed, Qiu Zheng’s score for Wen Yan was very high: 95 out of 100.
Twenty questions, five points each. She chose maximum satisfaction for all.
Yet Wen Yan frowned—he realized there must be one question she gave 0 points.
He was inexplicably concerned about that 0, so he quickly scrolled through.
Finally, he found the last question, with Xu Cheng leaning in to look as well.