Qian Zhaoye was growing impatient waiting outside.
He went to the balcony for a cigarette, the ember already burning down to the filter.
A slight night breeze stirred, his eyes filled with irritation.
His phone chimed with a notification. He tapped it open and stared at the photo Qiao Mian had sent—a pair of long legs wrapped in black stockings.
“Tsk.” He stubbed out the cigarette in annoyance.
For some reason, he couldn’t get enough of Qiao Mian lately.
And that faint red mole on Qu He’s waist from the bridal shop this afternoon—it lingered in his mind, refusing to fade.
Maybe this was what they meant by “what you can’t have always stirs your desire”?
But Qiao Mian was waiting for him…
After a moment of silence, his fingers flew across the keyboard: 【Wait for me. I’ll come over later.】
Having temporarily placated Qiao Mian, he quickly switched back to the main system.
Thinking about how he would soon have Qu He tonight too, an inexplicable excitement rose in him.
Qian Zhaoye glanced at the time—nearly ten minutes had passed, and Qu He still hadn’t come out of the bathroom. He frowned, walked over, and knocked on the door.
“Baby, are you done? Don’t keep me waiting too long…”
Silence from inside.
But a strange chill crept up Qian Zhaoye’s spine.
Just as he raised his hand to knock again, the doorknob turned with a soft click, and Qu He stepped out, closing the door behind her.
Qian Zhaoye immediately put on a gentle smile and took her hand. “What took you so long? I was getting worried.”
Qu He suppressed the urge to yank her hand away, letting him lead her toward the bedroom without any response. Qian Zhaoye didn’t notice how ice-cold her palm was.
“Want some wine? Or a movie? It’s been a while since we…” His voice was low, his fingers stroking her wrist with deliberate intimacy.
Qu He watched him walk into the bedroom and close the door, her gaze sweeping over the house she had poured her heart and soul into. At this moment, she felt nothing but bone-deep cold and utter disgust.
Qian Zhaoye noticed her distraction and felt a flicker of displeasure, but he suppressed his irritation and took her other hand.
His fingertip felt something unusual. Looking down, he saw a band-aid on the index finger of Qu He’s left hand.
“When did you get hurt? Does it hurt?” His brows knitted together as he carefully held her hand, his eyes full of concern—as if this tiny wound were the most important thing in the world.
Qu He: “Oh, I accidentally cut myself at the office during the day.”
Qian Zhaoye feigned anger: “A He, I’ve told you before—let others handle dangerous things. I’ve said it many times. You’re here to enjoy life. When you get hurt, it breaks my heart.”
As he spoke, he reached out to caress her face.
Qu He tilted her head slightly to avoid his touch, and where he couldn’t see, a mocking smile curled at the corner of her lips.
Enjoy life?
Whoever wants this blessing can have it!
Qian Zhaoye, if you’d put in even a shred of effort—if you’d spare even a fraction of the energy you pour into your elaborate lies—you’d notice that this wound didn’t exist before she went into the bathroom.
But you simply have no heart.
Qian Zhaoye was clearly getting impatient with desire. When his hand met empty air, he lowered his head and kissed her directly.
Qu He listened to his heavy breathing, fighting the urge to shove him away. “There’s nothing in the bridal suite…”
“There’s some in the cabinet. Besides, hasn’t Mom been wanting a grandchild?”
She watched as his lips were about to touch hers.
Qu He couldn’t hold back any longer. She shoved him away abruptly. “I want to have some red wine first.”
Qian Zhaoye’s Adam’s apple bobbed violently twice. He forced down his desire and pulled out a smile. “Fine, I’ll go get it. Wait for me.”
After he left, Qu He viciously scrubbed the skin he had touched with her sleeve until it turned red before she stopped.
Qian Zhaoye, that “there’s some in the cabinet” of yours—who was it meant for? Or rather, who have you already used it with?
On any normal day, with Qian Zhaoye’s cunning, he would have long noticed the probing in her words and the holes in her story. But he was blinded by lust.
Qu He bit down hard on her lower lip, letting the taste of blood spread across her tongue.
How ironic…
Just then, the screen of Qian Zhaoye’s phone on the bed lit up, and a WeChat chat window popped up.
Qu He walked over as if possessed, picked up the phone, and unlocked it.
It was a work message from Qiao Mian: 【President Qian, the materials you requested have been compiled. Awaiting your review.】
Qu He stared at this seemingly ordinary yet utterly nonsensical “work message.” Something clicked in her mind. She tapped the hidden icon and switched to another system.
Almost instantly, Qiao Mian’s message popped up: 【President Qian, awaiting your review~】
She tapped the small red dot marked with a “1,” and explicit messages and photos filled the chat window.
A sexy selfie from Qiao Mian. A hotel location share. And the flirtatious reply Qian Zhaoye had sent ten minutes ago.
So those “work messages” she had seen when helping Qian Zhaoye reply—those conversations she had assumed were perfectly normal—had all been their way of flirting.
Right under her nose, they had been betraying her in the most covert, the most brazen, the most thrilling way possible!
Footsteps grew closer.
Qu He quickly swiped through the chat to mark the messages as unread, then switched back to the original system.
Qian Zhaoye walked in carrying a decanter and two wine glasses. When he caught sight of the phone in Qu He’s hand, his gaze flickered.
“How come you’re looking at my phone?” His tone was deliberately casual, but Qu He could detect a hint of tension beneath it.
“A few messages came in on your phone just now, so I took a look,” Qu He said, handing the phone to him.
Qian Zhaoye poured two glasses of red wine, then stepped forward to take the phone.
After unlocking the screen and glancing at the messages, he let out an almost imperceptible sigh of relief.
Qu He didn’t miss that small gesture.
“Assistant Qiao is very dedicated. No wonder you transferred her to the General Manager’s Office.”
Qian Zhaoye turned off the phone and slipped it into his pocket before sitting down. “I had her look up some information yesterday. As for the position transfer, that was arranged by HR. I don’t even know what she looks like.”
He said it lightly, as if talking about an irrelevant stranger.
Qu He spoke flatly, “Is that so.”
Qian Zhaoye’s voice suddenly rose, as if using volume to mask his guilt. “Are you doubting me?”
Qu He couldn’t bring herself to say “No” against her own conscience.
She looked at Qian Zhaoye, her gaze as cold as if she were watching a clown.
Her stare stung him. He tugged at his tie, his voice growing sharper, even the veins on his forehead bulging.
“Qu He, can you stop being so suspicious all the time? Your attitude makes me really uncomfortable. It makes me feel like I’m not trusted. It makes me feel exhausted!”
Qu He continued to watch him quietly as he carried on, and only after a long while did she finally speak: “Trust?”
Her voice was soft, yet it inexplicably made Qian Zhaoye freeze.
He was like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, suddenly jumping up. “What do you mean?”
His voice suddenly grew louder, as if using that to cover his guilt, but in the blink of an eye, his demeanor shifted again, a sneer curling onto his face.
He slowly walked toward Qu He, each word he spoke like a knife stabbing into her heart.
“Qu He, have you never once appreciated all the good I’ve done for you all these years? When you said you wanted to get married, I proposed to you on the spot. I bought the wedding house according to your preferences. The wedding dress and rings were all decided by you alone. I went along with everything you wanted—whatever you asked me to do, I did it. You’ve controlled me in every way, so what more could you possibly be unsatisfied with? Or do you want me to hand the whole company over to you as well?”