Ever since that night at the opera house, Arthur felt as if he had been soaked in a jar of honey; his entire being was floating.
He would burst into foolish, inexplicable smiles while walking, and during meetings, his eyes couldn’t help but drift toward Shen Yanzi. Whenever their gazes met, he would hurriedly look down, the tips of his ears flushing a deep red.
As for Shen Yanzi? He remained exactly the same as always.
Cold-faced, sparse with his words, and terrifyingly efficient during meetings, he didn’t seem inclined to give even a single superfluous glance.
But Arthur wasn’t afraid anymore!
He was someone who had had his hand held!
Even if it happened in a pitch-black theater, it was still a revolutionary breakthrough!
He felt that he could no longer limit himself to small-scale teasing like before; he had to level up!
He needed something more direct!
Otherwise, with Shen Yanzi’s snail-like pace, Arthur would have to wait until his next life for the man to finally see the light.
Thus, Arthur’s “flower offensive” began anew, and this time, it was even more aggressive.
Before, it was one bouquet a day; now, it was two or three, delivered at different times.
They were no longer subtle lilies of the valley or niche blue flowers, but red tulips so passionate they were almost arrogant, brilliant sunflowers, and intensely fragrant hyacinths…
Each bouquet was more eye-catching and high-profile than the last.
The accompanying cards had changed as well.
Instead of the formal “Wishing for a successful cooperation,” they began to carry personal messages:
“Today’s sunlight is like your eyes (though you never like to look at me).”
“I hope this fragrance drifts into your office and makes you think of me while it’s at it?”
The signature had even evolved into a simple “A.”
Shen Yanzi’s assistant was nearly driven mad.
Every day, like a flower delivery boy, he had to carry various flashy bouquets through the office building, undergoing a baptism of ambiguous and curious stares from colleagues along the way.
He would bring the flowers into the office with fear and trepidation, looking at his boss’s “iceberg” face, unsure of how to dispose of them.
Shen Yanzi’s reaction, however, confused the assistant even more.
He maintained his expressionless facade, sweeping a glance over the flowers. His gaze seemed to linger on the cards for about zero-point-something seconds longer than usual before he calmly instructed: “The usual rule. Arrange them in a vase.”
Consequently, in Shen Yanzi’s minimalist, “cold-style” office, every corner began to pile up with various passionate and unrestrained flowers, creating a bizarrely endearing contrast.
A few days later, on a particular afternoon, Arthur used the excuse of “following up on project progress” to slip into Shen Yanzi’s temporary office again.
When he knocked and entered, Shen Yanzi was sitting behind his desk reviewing documents, his profile stern. Today, he wore a charcoal-gray suit, looking like a silent glacier.
But Arthur saw it instantly pinned to the left lapel of Shen Yanzi’s suit jacket was a very simple silver lapel pin. And right next to that pin, perfectly placed, was a small, deep red rose with a velvety texture.
It was the most conspicuous flower from the bouquet Arthur had sent this morning.
Arthur’s heart leaped so violently it nearly jumped out of his throat.
He suppressed the urge to scream, striving to maintain his composure. He walked over and pretended to be surprised as he pointed at the flower:
“Oh? Does President Shen also like this variety of rose?” His voice carried a trace of undetectable trembling and anticipation. “I remember… I happened to receive a similar bouquet today as well.”
Shen Yanzi looked up from his documents, his gaze calmly meeting Arthur’s. He followed Arthur’s finger to glance at the flower on his own collar. His tone was flat and waveless, as if he were merely commenting on the weather:
“Yes, one fell off while the assistant was arranging them.” He paused, his fingers unconsciously fidgeting with the corner of a page before adding, “I pinned it on casually to avoid wasting it.”
His expression was too natural and his reasoning too sound; it sounded flawless.
But Arthur’s sharp eyes caught it the moment the words left Shen’s mouth, his usually jade-white earlobes were visibly, slowly being overtaken by an extremely faint, pale pink.
Though it was light, under the bright office lights and Arthur’s focused scrutiny, it had nowhere to hide.
In Arthur’s heart, it felt as if countless fireworks had suddenly gone off with a “Bang!”, brilliant and dazzling!
Casually? Wasting it?
Who are you kidding!
This man was clearly doing it on purpose! He was just being stubborn! His ears were turning red, yet he was still putting on an act!
A surge of immense courage and a mischievous impulse suddenly welled up in Arthur’s heart.
He took a sudden step forward, bracing both hands on the edge of Shen Yanzi’s large solid wood desk, leaning his body slightly forward to close the distance between them.
The movement was abrupt, even slightly aggressive.
Shen Yanzi clearly hadn’t expected this. He looked up, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly, but he did not retreat.
The air in the office grew still.
Arthur’s heart hammered frantically in his chest, so loud he could hear it himself.
He took a deep breath and looked straight into Shen Yanzi’s bottomless black eyes, no longer dodging or being roundabout. His voice trembled with a sense of “all-or-nothing” determination, yet remained exceptionally clear:
“Shen Yanzi,” he called him by his name for the first time in a professional setting, “Do you know that your ears are red?”
Those words were like a stone thrown into a calm lake, instantly shattering all pretense and tranquility.
Shen Yanzi’s hand holding the fountain pen visibly paused, his knuckles tightening slightly.
He looked at Arthur. In those usually unruffled black eyes, a flash of caught-off-guard astonishment finally flickered, followed by…
A hint of embarrassment at being exposed.
Although his facial expression remained largely unchanged, the cold, “in-control” aura around him seemed to develop a crack.
Arthur pressed his advantage, his gaze falling on the red rose on the collar. The corners of his mouth curled upward uncontrollably with a bit of smugness and unprecedented bravery:
“Also, this flower… isn’t even from the variety I sent today. I sent champagne roses this morning.”
He blinked, his eyes shining brilliantly with mischief and a hint of testing: “So, President Shen… which one exactly did you ‘casually’ pin on? Hmm?”
That final “Hmm” turned upward at the end, carrying undisguised teasing and a sense of closing in.
The air fell completely silent.
Nothing remained but the silent locked gaze between them and the audible, somewhat erratic heartbeats of one another.
Shen Yanzi looked at the “Little Prince” before him, who seemed to have been suddenly set ablaze. He looked at the flush on Arthur’s cheeks born of nervousness and bravery, and at those shining grey-blue eyes that practically shouted, “I’ve caught you.”
He remained silent for several seconds.
To Arthur, those few seconds felt as long as a century.
He almost regretted his impulsiveness.
Finally, Shen Yanzi slowly, very slowly, set down his fountain pen.
He leaned back into his large office chair, his gaze still locked onto Arthur, his eyes becoming deeper and harder to read. That icy outer shell seemed to be melting away, revealing something more real and dangerous underneath.
He didn’t answer Arthur’s question.
Instead, the corner of his mouth curved into an extremely faint, subtle arc.
It wasn’t his usual polite, distant smile, but a smile that carried a certain… predatory intent.
“Your Highness,” he spoke, his voice several shades lower and raspier than usual, carrying an indescribable magnetism, “Your powers of observation seem exceptionally sharp today.”
He neither admitted nor denied it.
But this ambiguous statement, coupled with that unprecedented smile, made Arthur’s heart spiral out of control more than any direct answer ever could!
Arthur’s face exploded into a brilliant red!
The hands braced on the desk felt weak.
He, he, he…
What does he mean by that?!
Just as Arthur was about to lose his nerve and retreat under that gaze, Shen Yanzi suddenly spoke again. His tone regained a bit of its usual flatness, but he dropped a bombshell:
“I’m having a private wine tasting tomorrow night at a small winery. No outsiders.”
He paused, his gaze sweeping over Arthur’s completely stunned face before he added unhurriedly:
“Since Your Highness is so interested in ‘cultural integration,’ you might as well come and have a look.”
With that, he stopped looking at Arthur and picked up his pen again, lowering his head as if he had merely issued a perfectly ordinary invitation.
“Alright, if there’s nothing else, I’ll get back to these documents.”
Arthur: “!!!”
A wine tasting? A private winery? No outsiders?
Does this… does this count as a… a date?!
Arthur stood frozen for several seconds before it finally registered. His cheeks were so red they looked ready to bleed, and his heart was nearly exploding with joy!
He stood up straight in a panic, his tongue tripping over itself: “O-okay! I’ll definitely be there! Then… I won’t disturb you further!”
He practically floated out of Shen Yanzi’s office, his limbs moving in an awkward, synchronized daze.
The moment the door closed, Arthur covered his face and leaned against the corridor wall, slowly sliding down to sit on the floor. He let out an extremely excited yet suppressed whimper.
It seemed…
He had thrown a direct ball…
And it seemed…
He had actually hit the mark?!