The next morning, the electronic version of a financial weekly hit like a stone cast into a calm lake, sending ripples of varying sizes through the social circles of both the Gu and Bai families.
The title of the article was quite thought-provoking: “The Capital Chess Game of Centennial Aristocratic Families: Conjectures on the Industrial Chain Integration Behind the Gu-Bai Marriage.”
The main text used a seemingly objective tone to analyze the Gu family’s layout in cultural investment alongside the Bai family’s influence in academia and the arts, eventually throwing out a core argument: perhaps this marriage was a meticulously designed resource integration, intended to build a closed loop from academic research to commercial monetization.
It was clearly just an ordinary marriage, yet ever since the news broke, it had become a hot topic for the Jin Du media. The first time was curiosity, the second could be called a lingering trend, but this repetition was becoming suspicious.
The article didn’t say a single malicious word, yet it clearly laid out the Gu family’s industries and the Bai family’s academic status, ending with a profound question: Is this truly just a simple marriage?
Bai Jianjia saw the article after her morning lecture. She sat by the window in the teacher’s lounge, holding a warm cup of tea, reading line by line, her brows slightly furrowed.
It was… quite cleverly written.
Her phone vibrated; it was a call from Gu Yuzhou.
“Did you see that article?” His voice was lower than usual, and the background was very quiet.
“I just finished reading it,” Bai Jianjia said, setting down her teacup. “It’s… very well-written.”
There was a faint sound of paper rustling on the other end; Gu Yuzhou seemed to be checking some documents. “I have already instructed the legal and public relations departments to prepare a response. The reach of this article is wider than the previous entertainment gossip; it requires a more formal clarification.”
His speech was steady and methodical—his typical crisis-management mode.
“Brother Yuzhou,” she interrupted softly, “has the Gu family offended anyone recently? Or… is the other party a competitor?”
There was a moment of silence on the other end.
“What?”
“Although the Gu and Bai families have some prestige in Jin Du, it is just a marriage. To have it pulled into the spotlight and reinterpreted time and again… there must be someone behind this pushing the narrative.” She paused. “Someone is fueling the fire.”
Gu Yuzhou chuckled, the sound coming through the phone with a hint of surprise and appreciation.
“It seems nothing can be hidden from you.”
“So, you knew all along?”
“Mm. The Gu family has recently been pushing for an acquisition that touched upon the vested interests of certain people. Since they can’t move the project itself, they want to find a loophole elsewhere.” His tone grew indifferent, as if stating something insignificant. “It’s nothing more than testing the waters or trying to cause trouble.”
Bai Jianjia didn’t reply, her gaze resting on the students having their PE class on the playground outside the window. The sunlight was beautiful; those young figures running and laughing, completely unaware that in the adult world just a wall away, some were using a marriage as a pawn on a chessboard.
“Brother Yuzhou,” she suddenly said, “you don’t need to involve the Gu family in this for now.”
“How so?”
“I mean…” she organized her thoughts, “the tone of this article is about ‘capital operation’ and ‘industrial integration.’ If the Gu family responds, no matter how it’s done or what is said, it might be interpreted by the outside world as corporate PR—a defense from an interested party. But if the Bai family responds, the effect will be different.”
Gu Yuzhou did not interrupt; he simply listened quietly.
“The Bai family has never touched the business side of things,” Bai Jianjia continued. “My parents—their identities are naturally separated from the word ‘capital’.” Her pace gradually steadied. “If they speak in their personal capacity as elders, talking about their views on this marriage, about the friendship between our families, our shared history, and… the lifetime commitment of two ordinary children.”
There was a silence on the other end for several seconds.
“Jianjia,” Gu Yuzhou’s voice dropped, losing some of its earlier sharpness and gaining something she couldn’t quite identify. “Do you know what this means?”
She didn’t answer.
“It means you are letting Uncle Bai and Auntie stand on my side, helping me deflect this.”
“It’s not for you,” she lowered her eyes, her fingertips unconsciously brushing the edge of the teacup. “It’s for us.”
Only after the words left her mouth did she realize what she had said.
The line was quiet for a very long time.
So long that she thought the signal had dropped.
“…Alright.” Gu Yuzhou agreed, his voice very low, as if he had gathered all his emotions into that single word. “As you say.”
Bai Jianjia gazed out the window, forgetting to respond for a moment.
She suddenly remembered the previous two times she had made the trending list—the first time, Gu Yuzhou had used his official account to personally step in, protecting her by saying “we are in this together”; the second time was that photo on the terrace, his coat draped over her shoulders, his hand still lingering when the shutter clicked.
At the time, she had dismissed those images as responsibility, decorum, and the duty befitting a scion of a prominent family.
But now she thought: if it were only about responsibility, there would be no need to step in personally time and again.
If it were only about decorum, there would be no need for such intimate gestures.
If it were only about duty…
Then why would the people behind this go through such trouble, again and again, to force this marriage onto the cold bench of “capital alliance”?
They could see it.
They could see that Gu Yuzhou cared.
He cared about her, he cared about this engagement, and he cared about the things he kept carefully hidden beneath his steady demeanor—things he had never spoken of.
That was why they wanted to paint this marriage as a business deal.
It was nothing more than wanting him to know that the more he cared about something, the more it could be speculated about, deconstructed, and dismissed as a mere interest-based calculation.
Bai Jianjia held her phone. The sunlight from outside fell on the back of her hand, warm and calm.
They probably didn’t expect that—
She would not let him stand there alone, letting others point fingers at him.
Because—she cared, too.
“Jianjia?” Gu Yuzhou’s voice came through the receiver, carrying a hint of imperceptible hesitation. “Are you still listening?”
“I am.” She came back to her senses, the corners of her lips curling upward involuntarily. “I just suddenly thought of something.”
“What is it?”
She paused, her voice softening, as if talking to herself yet also earnestly addressing him:
“The first two times, you were the one charging ahead. This time, let me take the lead. Isn’t that what you said? We are in this together.”
On the other end of the line, Gu Yuzhou remained silent for a long time.
Eventually, he only let out a low “Mm.”
But that sound had a slight tremor in its tail, like a string plucked by the wind.
After hanging up, Bai Jianjia realized her palms were a little damp. She set her phone beside the teacup and stared at the call log on the screen for a long time.
Gu Yuzhou.
He had clearly already instructed his legal and public relations teams to take action. His plan was stable, comprehensive, and impeccable. Thirty years of the Gu family’s crisis-management experience was compressed into those few instructions.
But he had listened to her.
He didn’t say, “Let me think about it,” or “I’ll evaluate it further.” He didn’t even ask, “Are you sure this will work?”
He had simply remained silent for a few seconds and then said—
“Alright.”
And then, he had called back the plan that was already in motion.
Bai Jianjia picked up her teacup, but the tea had already gone cold. She took a sip; the cold liquid slid down her throat, but it couldn’t suppress the strange, swelling warmth in her chest.
So, this is what it feels like to be trusted by him.
At that moment, in the CEO’s office on the top floor of the Gu Building, Gu Yuzhou took off his glasses and gently rubbed his temples.
His assistant, Chen Xiang, stood before the desk, holding the prepared PR plan, and asked cautiously, “Boss Gu, what about the original plan…?”
“Set it aside for now.” Gu Yuzhou put his glasses back on, his gaze landing on the financial article on his computer screen. “We will not intervene in this matter.”
Chen Xiang was stunned.
He had followed Gu Yuzhou for many years and knew his boss’s style very well—calm, decisive, and accustomed to controlling the overall situation.
It was extremely rare for him to change his mind on the fly, especially because of someone else’s suggestion.
What was even more unprecedented was that during the phone call just now, his boss had barely spoken; he had simply listened.
Chen Xiang had only ever seen that kind of focused listening on the negotiation table—but that was for opponents, while this was Miss Bai.
“…Understood.” He took the file back. Walking to the door, he couldn’t resist asking one more question, “Do we still need to follow up with the other platforms that have reprinted the article?”
Gu Yuzhou raised his eyes to look at him.
With just that one look, Chen Xiang was already preparing to apologize and back down.
“She didn’t mention it,” Gu Yuzhou said, his voice flat. “Leave it for now.”
Chen Xiang’s heart skipped a beat.
It wasn’t “let’s wait and see,” it wasn’t “wait for my notice,” but “she didn’t mention it.”
Did that mean that the follow-up procedure depended on whether Miss Bai said anything?
“Understood, I see.” He bowed as he exited the office, gently closing the door behind him.
In the hallway, Chen Xiang stood for a moment before slowly letting out a breath.
He recalled the last time he saw Bai Jianjia at the Art Center—that young lady from the Bai family had been standing quietly by the window of the restoration room, the profile of her looking down at the manuscript as gentle as an ancient painting.
At the time, he only thought the future Mrs. Gu had an outstanding temperament. Now, it seemed, she was far more than that.
He had never seen a second person who could make Boss Gu change his mind in just a few words.