It was already midnight, the night enveloping the entire city. The room was pitch dark, with only a faint outline of someone lying on the bed visible.
The girl seemed to be tormented by a nightmare, her hands gripping the bedsheet tightly, causing wrinkles to form around her.
“No…”
“Brother…”
Her hands clenched so hard that her fingertips turned white. But then, a pair of slender, well-defined hands covered hers, enveloping them gently, and a soft kiss fell upon her. His voice was very light.
“It’s okay, brother is here.”
These words seemed to carry some kind of magic spell. The person on the bed quickly calmed down, the nightmare dispelled.
Yet this plunged her into a dream even more intense than the nightmare.
Due to the time difference, Fu Wanzhi woke up very early. When she went downstairs, Fu Sili was already sitting at the dining table having breakfast.
“Miss is awake. Would you like milk or soy milk?” a servant asked.
“No need, I have things to do,” Fu Wanzhi said, casually picking up a piece of bread and an egg. She had to go find Shang Yan to inspect the location for the studio.
Fu Sili didn’t look up. “Finish eating before you leave.”
“I’ll eat on the way,” Fu Wanzhi glanced at him.
“Sit down. I’ll take you wherever you need to go later,” he said calmly, his tone leaving no room for refusal.
The servants nearby had already brought out all the breakfast items. They didn’t dare disobey Fu Sili.
Fu Wanzhi thought that since he insisted on driving her, she might as well let him. She sat down. “Just drop me off at the building where Shang Yan’s company is.”
“What are you going to see him for?” Fu Sili lifted his gaze and asked casually.
“To open a studio,” Fu Wanzhi replied, perhaps too tired from lack of sleep to engage in their usual back-and-forth.
Fu Sili had heard her mention it before. “Do you need me to invest?”
“No,” Fu Wanzhi refused without hesitation.
“Alright,” he raised an eyebrow slightly, feigning regret.
Fu Wanzhi continued to lower her head and nibble on her bread. She truly couldn’t figure out the thoughts of the person in front of her. Even though they were siblings who grew up together, she still couldn’t understand him.
He was the one who pushed her away, yet now he kept inserting himself into her life from time to time.
In the car, since Fu Sili was driving, Fu Wanzhi had no choice but to sit in the passenger seat.
“There’s a banquet tonight. You’re coming with me. Grandfather Fu will be there too,” Fu Sili said as he drove, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.
“What banquet?” Fu Wanzhi felt somewhat unfamiliar with the idea, having been away for eight years. In her time abroad, banquets were just parties.
He replied, “Grandfather Cheng’s seventieth birthday.”
The Cheng family… she had some recollection. They were close allies of Father Fu. Grandfather Cheng had fought alongside Grandfather Fu during the war, so the two families had a good relationship.
But what left a deeper impression on her was Cheng Qingyue, who was a few years older than Fu Wanzhi. She had once asked Fu Wanzhi to help her pass a love letter to Fu Sili.
And then Fu Wanzhi had turned around and thrown it in the trash, causing the two of them to fall out.
“I don’t want to go,” Fu Wanzhi said, lacking interest. She had no interest in the social circles of these wealthy young ladies.
“Whether you want to or not, the invitation has already been received. I’ll pick you up at eight tonight,” Fu Sili said, resting his hand on the car window as he waited for the green light.
Fu Wanzhi looked over. “What about your wife? Why isn’t she going with you?”
Fu Sili gripped the steering wheel again, the veins on his fair, handsome hands standing out. “She doesn’t have time.”
Fu Wanzhi withdrew her gaze and didn’t say anything more. It was just a banquet. If he wanted her to go, she’d go. News of her return had likely already spread among the upper-class circles, so she might as well show her face.
After getting out of the car, Fu Wanzhi walked straight into the company building to find Shang Yan, without looking back at the car or the person behind her, and unaware whether the car had driven off immediately or lingered for a while.
She had chosen to start her own studio partly for the freedom of time and to avoid being constrained by others. Her inspiration for painting came unpredictably—sometimes she could finish a piece in two weeks, while other times it took several months, or even a year.
During this period, she frequently visited galleries or traveled abroad for inspiration and leisure.
She had only sold three of her works, all to private buyers, so she had no idea who they were.
“Alright, the location is settled. Next, I’ll help you with the company qualifications and procedures, and then I’ll have to start calling you President Fu,” Shang Yan said with a laugh after finalizing the details with her.
Fu Wanzhi didn’t object. “Sure, whatever the shareholder says is right.”
“Exactly. But there’s a Cheng family banquet tonight. Are you going?” Shang Yan asked, putting away the documents.
Fu Wanzhi leaned casually on the sofa, playing with her phone. “Fu Sili just asked me to go.”
“I’m going too. I’ll accompany you. But I remember that someone from the Cheng family—what was her name, something like ‘Yue’—had some conflict with you,” Shang Yan recalled, thinking back to the past.
Hearing about the Cheng family, she immediately remembered the name. Fu Wanzhi said indifferently, “Cheng Qingyue. She asked me to pass a love letter to Fu Sili, and I threw it in the trash.”
“Hahaha, right, right! I never imagined you had such thoughts back then. I thought you just didn’t like her and didn’t want her as your sister-in-law,” Shang Yan remembered, slapping his leg and laughing.
Fu Wanzhi glanced at him. “I didn’t like her.”
In middle school, they attended the same school. On the surface, Cheng Qingyue got along with everyone, but she was actually skilled at forming cliques and bullying. Fu Wanzhi had thrown the love letter into the trash right in front of her, which was why Cheng Qingyue had held a grudge against her for so long.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be there tonight. You won’t lose if a fight breaks out,” Shang Yan said with a raised eyebrow, showing his loyalty.
Fu Wanzhi smiled, reminded of how Fu Sili used to say the same thing to her in middle school when she had conflicts with others: “Next time, call your brother. Your brother has never lost a fight.”
“Then I’ll rely entirely on you tonight, Young Master Shang,” she said, teasingly, as she averted her gaze.
“No problem, President Fu. Just wait and see.”