Because she had things on her mind, her work efficiency all afternoon was horrifyingly low.
Jiang You sat in front of her workstation with the Lingxi Patch data model open, the cursor blinking away as if mocking her incompetence.
She stared at that line of numbers for nearly ten minutes while the progress bar remained completely motionless, exhausting herself to the bone before anyone else.
Xiao Lin walked by, poked her head over, and took a look: “Team leader, your brow is furrowed so tightly it could crush a mosquito.”
Jiang You didn’t even lift her head: “Those things President Wen mentioned today. When you have time, help me figure out how to revise them together.”
“Which ones specifically do you mean by those things?”
“All of them.”
Xiao Lin patted her on the shoulder: “Take care of yourself.”
Jiang You deleted the scrapped version and started reorganizing from the original proposal. By the time she finally got things sorted out, closed her computer, and massaged her brow, the clock on the wall pointed to six o’clock.
She wasn’t going to produce any results today anyway; she might as well think about it at home.
The six o’clock closing bell rang. She waited until the rest of the colleagues had mostly left before standing up. On her phone screen was the address Wen Shaonian had sent her during the day: Emerald Manor, 188 Binjiang Road.
She stared at those words for a moment, took a deep breath, and flagged down a taxi.
“Driver, 188 Binjiang Road, please.”
The driver glanced at her through the rearview mirror and stepped on the gas.
Half an hour later, the taxi stopped in front of a black cast-iron gate. Jiang You got out and looked up: in the twilight, the villa reflected a dark golden afterglow, the osmanthus trees in the courtyard had lush and flourishing branches, and a flagstone path led straight to the brightly lit entrance porch.
Quiet, imposing, and quietly expensive.
Standing beneath the porch was a middle-aged woman wearing a black uniform. Seeing Jiang You dragging a suitcase, she hurried over and bowed slightly: “Hello, Miss Jiang. My surname is Wang, and I’m the housekeeper here. President Wen instructed me to wait for you.”
“Hello, housekeeper Wang. Sorry to trouble you.”
“Please follow me.”
The foyer was spacious and bright, the floor polished to a mirror finish, completely empty and quiet enough that only their footsteps could be heard.
A floor-length dressing mirror in the corridor reflected Jiang You’s outfit of a white T-shirt and jeans, which somehow looked completely out of place with the surroundings.
She sidestepped a bit and pretended to look at her phone.
Housekeeper Wang pushed open the dark brown double wooden doors and stepped aside: “Please come in.”
Jiang You walked in, stood still at the entryway, and fell silent.
The entire floor was opened up into a massive, open-concept space where the living room, dining room, and kitchen flowed into one another, leaving it overwhelmingly, sparsely huge.
Jiang You had lived in the Jiang family home for three months, and that villa was already luxurious enough with its crystal chandeliers, imported carpets, and three-story pool, eager to display every single valuable item it owned.
Back then, she thought that was the ceiling of high-society luxury.
Yet standing in Wen Shaonian’s home, she finally understood what it meant to be so rich you don’t need to flaunt it. The former was a nouveau riche pile-up, while the latter was an exercise in elegant restraint. You couldn’t tell where the money was spent, but you just knew ordinary people couldn’t afford to live here for ten lifetimes.
Housekeeper Wang took out a pair of new slippers and placed them by her feet: “The size should be right. President Wen specifically gave instructions.”
Jiang You changed her shoes, and Housekeeper Wang took her suitcase: “Let me show you your room first.”
The first door on the left side of the corridor opened to reveal a spacious study. Three of the walls were lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, neatly stacked with books and documents, while the dark solid-wood desk in the center was completely clean, holding only a laptop and a desk lamp.
Housekeeper Wang’s tone was warm yet solemn: “This is President Wen’s study. She dislikes being disturbed while working, so please do not touch the documents or the computer. If you need to use a study, the table outside is available.”
Jiang You nodded: “Understood.”
They then looked at the second bedroom, the guest bedroom, the gym, and the media room. None of the rooms were small, but it was obvious they hadn’t been used much, with the bedding folded meticulously.
Finally, Housekeeper Wang pushed open the door to the master bedroom: “This is your bedroom.”
Jiang You walked inside. A floor-length window offered a view of the garden outside, a two-meter-wide bed sat right in the middle with dark grey bedding arranged impeccably, the pillows placed as if measured with a ruler.
Housekeeper Wang said respectfully: “Take a look around, and let me know if anything is missing at any time.”
Jiang You hurriedly said: “Thank you, Housekeeper Wang.”
Back in the living room, Housekeeper Wang asked about dinner, to which Jiang You replied, “Whatever is fine.”
The auntie brought out four dishes and a soup: stir-fried seasonal greens, sweet and sour pork ribs, boiled prawns, steamed sea bass, and a bowl of mushroom and chicken soup.
The dishes were exquisitely prepared.
Jiang You hadn’t enjoyed this kind of treatment for a very long time, and she felt truly overwhelmed by the favor. Sitting all alone at the six-person dining table, she picked up a piece of pork ribs; the sweet and sour sauce was seasoned to perfection, and the meat was tender and soft, but the empty seat across from her made every mouthful feel dragged out, leaving her with a lingering sense that something felt off.
Ultimately lacking the mental fortitude to endure it, she finished half a bowl of rice, put down her chopsticks, and returned to her bedroom.
After taking a shower, Jiang You sat on the edge of the bed in a baggy cotton nightgown, drying her hair. The bedroom was deathly quiet, the floor-length windows provided exceptional soundproofing, and not a single sound from outside could filter in.
She picked up her phone and checked it; there were no messages. She checked it again; still none.
Wen Shaonian had said she would be working late tonight, though she had no idea until what time.
Jiang You placed her phone back on the bedside table, lay down to stare blankly at the ceiling, and replayed everything that had happened today from the very beginning: signing the agreement, getting their marriage certificate, being picked apart, moving into a mega-mansion.
Every single event felt like it had been fast-forwarded, leaving her without even enough time to process it.
What was Wen Shaonian doing right now? Still reviewing documents in the office or attending a business dinner?
On their wedding night, one person was working overtime, while the other was lying in a luxury mansion counting ceiling panels.
On second thought, she figured it might be better if she didn’t come back. If she really did return, Jiang You wouldn’t even know whether to call her President Wen or something else, how far away she should sit to maintain a safe distance, or whether she should even strike up a conversation.
Just thinking about it made her feel thoroughly uncomfortable all over.
Jiang You was too anxious to sleep, tossing and turning in bed. She didn’t know how much time had passed before a knock sounded at the door.
It was very light, exactly three knocks spaced one second apart, like flipping pages in a PowerPoint presentation.
Startled for a second, she sat up and opened the door.
Wen Shaonian was standing in the doorway, having changed out of the sharply tailored suit she wore during the day. She was wearing a champagne-colored silk bathrobe with the belt tied at the waist, the neckline slightly open to reveal a delicate hint of her collarbone. Her hair was also let down, flowing in soft waves over her shoulders. Under the warm yellow wall lamp of the corridor, she didn’t look quite as sharp as she had during the day, though her gaze remained cold.
However, Jiang You noticed something else: the small patch of skin at the neckline of the bathrobe was flushed with a slight warmth, and the ends of her hair still carried traces of un-blown moisture. A faint scent of body wash mixed with an extremely subtle hint of pheromones drifted over, completely different from the oppressive atmosphere in the conference room earlier.
It felt like heat bleeding out from beneath a sheet of ice.
Jiang You instinctively stepped back half a step toward the doorframe; that distance felt a bit too dangerous.
“Come to the living room. We need to talk.”
With that, Wen Shaonian turned and walked away, and Jiang You obediently followed behind.
As soon as she stepped into the living room, she saw a printed A4 sheet lying on the coffee table with bold heading text: Post-Marital Mutual Assistance Clauses.
Jiang You couldn’t help twitching her eyelids: does this person have to define every single relationship using clauses?
“Sit.” Wen Shaonian took the lead, sitting down on the sofa with her slender legs crossed. The hem of her bathrobe slipped slightly, exposing a patch of fair calf.
Jiang You sat across from her with her hands resting on her knees, looking like an elementary school student facing their head teacher.
“Read it first. You can ask if you have any questions.” The document was pushed toward her.
As Wen Shaonian pushed the document over, her body leaned forward slightly, causing the neckline of her bathrobe to slacken by a fraction. Jiang You caught another wave of that body wash fragrance, stronger this time, accompanied by the cool, damp chill of hair brushing against the back of her hand.
Her fingers shrank back, and she almost fumbled the document.
Wen Shaonian glanced at her without speaking, leaning back against the sofa.
Jiang You lowered her head and nailed her gaze to the paper, her heart beating even faster because it read: Physiological Needs Mutual Assistance Agreement.
Her gaze lingered on those words, and she felt her breath catch in her throat.
Reading further down: Given that both parties are healthy adult individuals, in order to maintain marital stability and avoid external interference, both parties shall regularly satisfy each other’s physiological needs. The frequency shall be four times a month, with the time and location determined by Wen Shaonian according to her schedule, and each session must ensure satisfaction for both parties.
Satisfaction standards.
Staring at those four words, Jiang You couldn’t help feeling a wave of worry: would those product gold-sponsors of hers be satisfied?
“This…” Jiang You’s voice sounded dry. “How is satisfaction defined?”
Wen Shaonian raised her eyes, her gaze as calm as still water. “Literally.”
As she said those four words, she stood up from the sofa, walked around to the coffee table, and sat down sideways on the armrest of the single-seat sofa right next to Jiang You. One hand rested on her knee while the other reached out to pull the document from Jiang You’s grip, flipping through it before placing it back down. The movement wasn’t large, but the distance suddenly closed to within half an arm’s length, making the hairs on the back of Jiang You’s neck stand up.
The gland that had been judged by the hospital to be virtually useless gave a sharp, heavy thump.
This unfamiliar reaction made Jiang You freeze instantly. As a subpar Alpha, Wen Shaonian’s Omega pheromones should theoretically be as colorless and odorless as plain water to her, how could she possibly be reacting to them?
She secretly pinched her palm, forcibly dragging her attention back to the clauses.
“You can use your products during the process. As a designer, you should know best what kind of stimulation is most effective.”
Jiang You was stunned. The tone in which Wen Shaonian said this was identical to assigning a work task.
Yet when she uttered the word stimulation, the tail-end of her voice dropped lower than usual, sounding as if something was gently scraping against Jiang You’s eardrum. Jiang You felt the tips of her ears burn and didn’t dare look up. Her line of sight landed on the edge of the document where Wen Shaonian’s fingertips rested on the armrest; her nails were trimmed very cleanly, her knuckles were slender, and they flushed with a faint, post-bath pink.
She quickly shifted her gaze away and nodded twice at a blank space on the paper: “Okay.”
Her voice came out a bit hoarser than she had expected.
She cleared her throat.
“Then I…” Jiang You hesitated. “Can I treat this as a product test?”
“Mhm.”
“Then I need to record data.”
“Fine.”
“Then I’ll need your feedback.”
“Sure.”
The answers were crisp and decisive.
When that final confirmation was given, Wen Shaonian stood up from the armrest. Just as Jiang You breathed a sigh of relief, Wen Shaonian stopped right in front of her, standing in a posture that looked down from above, the belt of her bathrobe swaying right in front of Jiang You’s line of sight.
“Your ears are red.”
It wasn’t a question.
Jiang You’s entire face burned with a sudden rush of heat. She instinctively raised a hand to touch her right earlobe; her fingertips were indeed hot.
“The air conditioning is a bit stuffy.”
She heard herself say, her tone pulled as straight and tight as a sheet of document paper.
Wen Shaonian watched her for two seconds, walked back to the opposite sofa, and sat down again. “Since you’ve read it, sign it.”
Jiang You picked up the pen and signed her name on the last page, her strokes floating more than usual. She capped the pen with a click, her fingernails trembling slightly.
Wen Shaonian took back the document and stood up. “Starting tomorrow.” She turned away, took two steps, and paused. “Get some rest tonight. If you need anything, just find Housekeeper Wang.” With that, she got up and left.
Jiang You watched her walk upstairs.
The hem of her bathrobe swayed gently with each step, and the belt around her waist wasn’t tied tightly, faintly revealing the curve of her waist.
She quickly looked away, lowered her head to take a sip of the tea that had already gone cold, slammed the teacup heavily back onto the coffee table, and buried her face in her hands. She couldn’t look, and she couldn’t think. She was a subpar Alpha; she shouldn’t be having these kinds of reactions.
No, wait. What she was experiencing wasn’t a physiological reaction, it was curiosity.
Right, she just wanted to know what her ice-berg boss looked like when her physical metrics were unstable.
That was all!