Yang Wenlun leaned against the wall, his back forced straight like a gentleman. However, his gaze was intense, sweeping over Secretary Lin’s black suit collar and her pristine white neck, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.
“Still staring?” Secretary Lin narrowed her phoenix eyes. A chilling aura washed over Yang Wenlun, her gaze lingering on his neck as if she were about to slice it in half.
Yang Wenlun’s stare at his wife’s white neck was out of desire; his wife’s stare at his thick neck was out of a desire to kill him. His survival instinct kicked in, and he instantly behaved, withdrawing his uncontrollable, damn eyes. He said aggrievedly, “Wife, can’t you like me just a little bit? I’m so good.” Yang Wenlun had pursued Lin Yi for three years. No matter how hard he tried, Lin Yi had always been indifferent to him, even detesting him. If it weren’t for their mutual friends, the two of them might never have met in eight lifetimes.
Sigh, don’t even get me started. Those friends didn’t help at all; they just fanned the flames.
Lin Yi chuckled, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Yang Wenlun, what part of you do you think is worthy of my affection? With your playboy tendencies, you’re like a dog in heat, wagging your tail and acting happy for anyone.” Bars and hotels were Yang Wenlun’s usual haunts. Lin Yi had seen him enter hotels with young starlets many times. To call such a rotten radish “likable” truly lowered the bar for what she found appealing.
Yang Wenlun was annoyed, his temples throbbing. “I am not! I’ve kept myself clean. It’s been three years since I last had a boyfriend. Now I’m completely and utterly yours, Wife. Why are you just like your boss—so sharp-tongued?” He tightened his grip on the ballpoint pen in his white coat pocket.
“Kept yourself clean? You’d better not use that phrase. It doesn’t suit you.” Secretary Lin gave Yang Wenlun a slow, sweeping look from head to toe before leaving him with those words.
The two police officers had already finished their questioning and departed.
Meng Xinghui pulled the blanket up, curling into a ball. A figure vaguely appeared in the doorway. A faint ache flared at the corners of his eyes as he forced a bitter smile.
Secretary Lin sighed softly. He had anticipated Meng Xinghui’s choice. Through the blanket, he gently stroked Meng Xinghui’s head and could only say helplessly, “Focus on recovering. If you need anything, tell Yang Wenlun. I’m leaving now.” He picked up his briefcase and pushed past Yang Wenlun, who was blocking the way.
Yang Wenlun’s mind was still racing. He quickly ran out of the hospital room and grabbed Secretary Lin’s wrist—it was fair and slender, but he had no time to admire his wife’s hand. “What’s going on now?”
“He dropped the civil lawsuit. Take good care of him.” Lin Yi shook off his hand and hurried out of the hospital.
Yang Wenlun rubbed his fingertips, savoring the sensation, and kissed the fingers he had just touched. His eyes twinkled with amusement. Sharp tongue, soft heart, he thought. You’re just worried about your boss’s little brother.
Li Li, a close colleague from the hotel, arrived to visit, carrying a box of apples and a pink insulated lunch container. Upon entering, he saw Meng Xinghui looking like he was about to become related to a vampire—his head wrapped in stark white gauze, his small face deathly pale. He immediately started lecturing him. “You’re unbelievable. So what if you had a fight and broke up? Did you really have to get yourself beaten into this state? Old Liu said he’d be here soon; he’s cooking some dishes, so I brought them over for you first.”
“I’m sorry for making you and Master Liu worry,” Meng Xinghui said, feeling guilty that they were concerned about him.
“Alright, stop overthinking all that. Just focus on recovering. We only just found out you resigned, but it’s for the best. Working in an office is way better than washing dishes at the hotel—much less physically demanding.” Li Li opened the insulated container, served the food, wiped a spoon clean, and handed it to Meng Xinghui.
Li Li then started talking about recent events. “Xinghui, let me tell you, the Group has a new President.”
Meng Xinghui set down his spoon. What happened to Shen Qiu? “President Shen was doing perfectly fine. Why did they suddenly replace him?”
Li Li crossed his legs, took out a handful of melon seeds, and started cracking them. “It’s just a power struggle within their family. Shen Ziqi got the President’s seat, and you wouldn’t believe it—rumors of his arrogance have already reached our hotel.”
“The official notice of removal hadn’t even been issued when he barged into the President’s office and demanded President Shen move out. President Shen, ever the easygoing one, just packed up and left without a word. He even took all his remaining vacation days and just stayed home, refusing to go back to the office. If I were him, I’d be furious. This is a blatant power grab.”
“And that’s not all. Shen Ziqi slashed more than half of the projects President Shen had started, claiming it was to ‘cut costs.'”
“President Sun from Administration is acting like his lapdog, just sucking up to him. Ugh, it’s so frustrating to watch,” Li Li continued, taking a sip of water before launching back into his rant, his eyes and heart filled with disdain for the new President, Shen Ziqi.
“Oh, and he fired all the new hires President Shen had brought in, and suspended anyone who refused to follow his orders.”
“He even cut the labor union’s benefits.”
The soup in the bowl went still, reflecting Meng Xinghui’s furrowed brow and the stark white gauze wrapped around his head.
Darkness fell. Shen Qiu lifted his red wine glass, the crimson liquid swirling inside.
The television was broadcasting financial news: “Today, 3 trillion yuan in ultra-long-term government bonds will be issued to fund infrastructure construction, scientific research, and other sectors.”
“Recently, the total volume of freight transported in the express delivery industry has increased by 3% compared to the same period last year, with a significant rise in home and living categories. Next, please tune in to international news.”
The laptop screen on the coffee table glowed faintly, showing several stocks rising as predicted.
A text message from an unknown number popped up on the phone.
Shen Qiu, don’t be too sad. You graduated from a top university and are so good at your job. When the rival President Wan and President Qi came to dinner, they kept saying how amazing you are, and you even ate more rice than Shen Ziqi. You are much stronger than him. One day, you can return to the Group. You must not get angry, and you can’t let Shen Ziqi get his way. I believe in you, and many people in the Group believe in you.
Meng Xinghui had dark circles under his eyes. He had wracked his brain to compose this message, drawing from the most basic vocabulary he could muster. Had he already fallen asleep? Or was he still drinking, weeping to someone else? He tossed and turned, his eyes straining until double images appeared before him.
Shen Qiu read the message and smiled. There were even typos. He drained his wine glass in a single gulp, his pursed lips stained a deep crimson.
Meng Xinghui’s eyes were hazy as he looked down, his cheek pressed into the pillow. The phone screen remained lit, his eyelids nearly touching his lower lashes, his breathing about to blend into a long, steady rhythm.
You’re the one who shouldn’t be sad. I’m doing just fine. Meng Xinghui, you’re such a soft-hearted little white flower. I spent so much money to get you back, and look at you—you won’t even hold your ex-boyfriend accountable. He won’t even take your money.
Meng Xinghui’s round, almond-shaped eyes widened. He read the short message again, carefully and cautiously, word by word. A burning sense of shame surged in his chest. He retreated into his blanket, leaving no gap for air, and mumbled, “I’m sorry.”
It’s okay, it’s okay, he thought, patting his cheeks. At worst, I’ll just work hard to earn the money back for Shen Qiu, with a bit of interest—say, 3%. Sob, sob… that’s going to be so much money…
The System watched Shen Qiu mercilessly berate the little white flower shou and felt utterly speechless. “Can’t you be more tactful? The little white flower shou was worried about you, which is why he sent you a message in the middle of the night. And here you are, insulting him.”
“Did I say something wrong?” Shen Qiu shot back. He had learned the situation from Lin Yi, and he was so furious he was speechless. What was he supposed to do with this little white flower? The scummy bastard treated him like that, yet he could still forgive him.
The System choked up, stubbornly retorting, “Just you wait. Someday, you’ll be the one shamelessly begging my Xinghui to take you back. You’d better watch your mouth.”
Shen Qiu laughed shamelessly. Impossible. Absolutely impossible.
The System never expected that its future self would want to find a hole in the ground and bury itself in it, forever refusing to endure this couple’s public displays of affection. Meng Xinghui would act spoiled and clingy, rubbing against Shen Qiu, letting Shen Qiu knead and pinch him, and doing whatever Shen Qiu asked. He even wore clothes so skimpy they consisted of only two or three scraps of fabric, yet he wore them happily.
Ding— The doorbell of the villa rang.
On the real-time video feed from the smart doorbell, Meng Xinghui was wearing an oversized black coat and a baseball cap to hide his patchy hair. The wind gently swayed the hem of his coat. He had lost a whole size, the dimples on his cheeks gone. He held a bulging purple-red woven bag that reached his thighs, looking around cautiously.
Shen Qiu’s house was a villa within Kyoto’s Second Ring Road, featuring a small garden. Cool water flowed down a dragon-shaped spout, splashing in a series of artistic patterns as it meandered past the dragon’s tail, creating a uniquely pleasing sight.
Meng Xinghui’s mind raced with calculations as he stared, his inner voice screaming, Wow! All he could do was gaze in envy.
The carved copper doors, designed in a modern Chinese style, slowly swung open. Shen Qiu appeared, clad in a light gray robe. His eyes, framed by long lashes, held a cool, serene gaze, reminiscent of a gentle breeze brushing over a lake. Gone was the ruthless professionalism and stern demeanor he wore at work, as well as the sharp-tongued mockery he reserved for Meng Xinghui. His well-defined abs were almost on full display, and he held a cup of black Americano that smelled bitter.
“Come in,” Shen Qiu said, his voice low and husky as he shook off his drowsiness.
Meng Xinghui immediately averted his gaze, looking everywhere else. He clumsily lifted his woven bag and shuffled inside, his mind still reeling. He hadn’t expected Shen Qiu to be in such incredible shape—his abs were two-pack’s more than Gao Jiade’s, and they looked so… present. He couldn’t help but wonder what they would feel like to the touch.
The villa was decorated in a modern Chinese style. A set of ebony sofas was arranged in a cozy enclosure, their soft upholstery adorned with understated cloud patterns. The walls were covered in plain-colored wallpaper, with cloud-patterned reliefs in the corners. A piano stood in one corner of the living room, its silver finish shimmering faintly in the natural light, dazzlingly beautiful.
Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, a sea of flowers was in full bloom, a sight so captivating he couldn’t tear his eyes away.
Shelves displayed a collection of antiques—porcelain, woodwork, and calligraphy and paintings. The shelf closest to Meng Xinghui held porcelain. The first and second tiers featured pieces as thin as cicada wings and as green as mountain peaks, their deep ink-like glazes perfectly balanced. The third, fourth, and fifth tiers displayed sancai-glazed figures of foreigners and cargo-laden camels.
“Need help with your luggage?” Shen Qiu was in a good mood today; his stock portfolio was a sea of red. He set down his coffee cup and looked at Meng Xinghui, who was still on the stairs.
“No, I can manage.” Meng Xinghui dodged Shen Qiu’s hand, straining as he lifted the woven bag.
Shen Qiu said nothing. If he insisted on carrying it, so be it. “You’ll be staying in the room opposite mine.” Meng Xinghui followed Shen Qiu inside. This was all he had left. He had given up his rental, and anything he couldn’t move had been given to his colleagues, Li Li and Master Liu. Now he was homeless, with only this place to temporarily shelter him. But this wasn’t his home, and he couldn’t stay long.
“I usually wake up at six and work out until seven. You only need to prepare lunch and dinner, do a major cleaning once a week, and tend to the garden’s flowers and trees. Your monthly living expenses will be deposited into your salary card. Your room key and the villa key are on the bedside table.”
“You can decide the menu. If there’s anything specific I want, I’ll let you know in advance. I’m on vacation and will be at home all the time. As for your job, I’ve had Secretary Lin transfer you to Qingxiang Company. You can sign the paperwork when you arrive. You start the day after tomorrow.”
“Uncle Zhang, the driver, will take you to work then.”
Shen Qiu had suddenly dumped a lot of information on him. Before Meng Xinghui could even process it all, he tensed up at the thought of having to go to work the day after tomorrow. “Actually, I can just go to work by myself. There’s no need to trouble Uncle Zhang to drive me.”
“Can you even drive?”
Meng Xinghui fell silent.
Shen Qiu turned his head. Meng Xinghui was still standing by the door, dazed. Shen Qiu snapped his fingers crisply right next to Meng Xinghui’s ear. “Wake up. Happy cohabitation. Go inside and get ready.”
“My little white flower housekeeper!” Shen Qiu’s lips brushed against Meng Xinghui’s earlobe, nearly touching.
The back of Meng Xinghui’s neck stiffened, and his earlobe instantly flushed a deep, alluring red. His mind spun wildly as he nodded frantically.
The door closed, separating the two. Meng Xinghui’s legs gave out, and he slid down the door panel to the floor. He muttered to himself, “Meng Xinghui, this is your employer. You can’t let any inappropriate ideas sprout. You still owe him money.”
A lot, a lot of money.
Behind the closed door, a smile tugged at Shen Qiu’s lips. “So shy.”