Recently, she had been contemplating resignation, thinking she might be better off switching companies. Why stay and endure such humiliation? But the pharmaceutical sales industry was in chaos, and with her limited experience, where could she even go? Leaving would feel like giving up, and she couldn’t let go of the thought: *One day, I’ll bring them down.*  

Wen Yi was stuck in a loop of frustration, unable to snap out of it.  

She asked, “Qin Nanshan, do you think I should resign? Look, I’ll need to take time off for this prenatal screening, and for every screening after that. If I keep asking for leave, the company will start finding me annoying.”  

Qin Nanshan raised his eyebrows slightly and, after some thought, said, “The law grants pregnant women the right to take prenatal leave. It counts as regular attendance. Your company has no right to take that away from you.”  

Wen Yi laughed. “What kind of black-and-white world do you live in? Capitalism doesn’t care about your rights. If you’re not working but still drawing a salary, they’ll resent you for it, don’t you get that?”  

She added, “Not every company is like your public institution, with great benefits, ample leave, and a secure job for life.”  

Qin Nanshan clarified, “There’s no such thing as a secure job anymore. If you don’t perform well, you’ll still face criticism and demotion.”  

Wen Yi covered her ears, unwilling to listen to his counterarguments.  

She didn’t want to argue with him either. None of this was the baby’s fault, nor his. Ultimately, it came down to her impulsiveness and lack of decisive planning. She had chosen to marry and have a child but wasn’t prepared for the consequences—or for her inability to resist being manipulated.  

For the first time since she could remember, Wen Yi was questioning herself. She had always been confident in her decisions, never doubting her worth or her choices. But recent events had thrown her into a spiral of self-doubt.  

She told herself she needed to accept her new reality and move on, but her emotions had been erupting uncontrollably these past few days.  

In the past, she could suppress her feelings until they faded. But now, Qin Nanshan’s presence seemed to force open the floodgates of her bottled-up anxiety, anger, and frustration.  

Overwhelmed, Wen Yi let her emotions spill out. “You could never understand me. You’ve always had everything handed to you—a complete family, impressive talents. How could you possibly know what it’s like to give everything you have, only to have it casually taken away?”  

“People are selfish by nature. They’ll flatter and care for you when they need you, but discard you like garbage when they don’t. Especially men—they’re selfish and awful. Scumbags!”  

Qin Nanshan didn’t take her accusations personally. It was clear she was using this as an outlet for her pent-up anger. He thought quickly and quietly asked, “Is your company sidelining you because of your pregnancy?”  

Wen Yi’s gaze was heavy, her eyes tinged with red. “Yes! From now on, I’ll be working fixed hours, clocking in and out, then taking my comfortable maternity leave. I’ll just coast, taking care of the baby. Happy now?”  

To her surprise, Qin Nanshan smiled, the corners of his lips lifting slightly.  

Wen Yi became even angrier. “What are you laughing at?”

Her temper flared, a sign she was okay.  

Qin Nanshan maintained his usual calm expression. “Do you want me to hug you? I’ve heard that hugs are great for alleviating stress.”

“…” Wen Yi was stunned for a couple of seconds. She wasn’t sure if he was out of touch or if her pregnancy was making her lose her mind.

Without waiting for her consent, Qin Nanshan pulled her into a hug. His hands rested lightly on her shoulders, separated by their large, content dog. Yet, Wen Yi’s heart quivered. She stood stiffly, her hands awkwardly hanging at her sides.  

Though they’d shared a bed for so many nights, there was always an invisible line between them. They hadn’t even touched. Wen Yi felt like a true “purity warrior.”

Qin Nanshan’s tone was as calm as ever, though a faint gentleness softened it, piercing deep into her heart. “What kind of administrative post are you being reassigned to?”

The scent of his freshly showered citrusy body wash, tangy and refreshing, clouded her mind. “HR…” she muttered.  

Then something clicked, and she pushed him away, demanding answers. “You already knew, didn’t you? Why are you pretending?”

Xuan Ying wouldn’t have messaged her for no reason. She pressed further, “What did you do?”

Qin Nanshan replied calmly, “Nothing much. I suspected something but didn’t expect it to happen this soon. Our family doesn’t do business, and my parents and I are in academic circles. A few hospital directors are family friends, but it doesn’t relate much to your work.”

He continued, “I asked my mom about my uncle’s company to see if we could help. Did she mention it to you?”

Wen Yi nodded, her tone softening. At least she could distinguish right from wrong. “Don’t bother with this. It’s pointless.”

Qin Nanshan explained, “Before you came back, I spoke to my uncle. He said he could arrange a meeting with a GM surnamed Li, but you’d have to go with me. My uncle seemed to think there’s room for negotiation. I haven’t responded yet. I can’t make this decision for you.”

Wen Yi felt a fleeting sense of joy, quickly replaced by calm.  

After a few minutes of silence, she said, “Thank you. Also, thank Uncle for me. But let’s hold off for now.”

She hesitated in the face of opportunity. No one understood better than Wen Yi the weight of “connections” in the workplace. It wasn’t that she despised them; it was just that a small part of her pride still wanted to prove herself through her abilities.

She chuckled softly. “Am I wasting a good chance?”

Qin Nanshan smiled gently. “No, you’re gaining a new opportunity.”

Wen Yi froze, staring at him, speechless.

Silence had always been their norm. Qin Nanshan wasn’t talkative during meals or otherwise; she was usually the one to fill the quiet. Now, she found herself at a loss for words.

Qin Nanshan asked, “Do you remember what happened a week before the college entrance exam?”

“I don’t.”

“Your final mock exam results came out. You scored 89 in math. You didn’t even pass.”

“…” Wen Yi clenched her teeth. “Do you really have to bring this up now?”

Back then, Wen Hongyu had been diagnosed with uterine fibroids. She tried to hide it, secretly taking medication. Wen Yi accidentally discovered the pills, looked them up online, and was terrified by the misinformation. Too scared to confront her mother, she kept it to herself.  

It affected her final mock exams and her actual college entrance performance. After the exams, Wen Yi came clean and accompanied her mom to the hospital. Luckily, the fibroid was small and benign, requiring no immediate treatment.  

Wen Yi never told her mom she’d known earlier, nor did she dwell on her poor exam results. She was just relieved her fears were unfounded.

This memory, now dug up, helped Wen Yi calm down.

She’d survived the college entrance exam disaster and her mom’s illness. What was this compared to that? A reassignment wasn’t even a demotion. She’d now be the highest-paid HR manager in the company—how impressive.

Fine. After working herself to the bone for so many years, she could take this as a break. Even the tightest strings needed time to relax.

Qin Nanshan smiled faintly. “I can’t help it. Back then, your declaration was loud enough for the entire class to hear. You swore you’d ace math in the college entrance exam or give up your surname.”

“In the end, I still didn’t do well—barely over 100.”

“At least you passed.”

Wen Yi’s gaze sharpened, but her earlier anger and frustration had mostly dissipated. “Fine. I get it. You aced the exam and want to show off.”

Qin Nanshan smirked. “There’s one more thing—”

“Stop. I don’t want to hear it,” Wen Yi interrupted, narrowing her eyes. “Qin Nanshan, why do you remember so much about me? Even the exact number, 89?”

His lashes fluttered slightly before he smiled faintly. “Can’t help it. I have a good memory.”

Wen Yi made a mock gagging gesture. “I just hope our daughter doesn’t inherit your narcissism.”

“Though I disagree with your choice of words, I do hope our daughter inherits my memory.”

“That I can agree with.”

The atmosphere softened. Qin Nanshan quietly observed her, slipping back into his usual silence.

Wen Yi didn’t avoid his gaze. Their eyes locked in a quiet, unspoken connection, threading an invisible line between them.

Since she became independent, Wen Yi never shared her struggles with her mom or friends. In six years of working, she’d faced plenty of low points—being rejected by doctors, failing to meet targets, enduring public scoldings from strict managers. She’d weathered them all through bouts of self-doubt.

But now, it seemed like she had someone to share the burden with. It wasn’t about love. Wen Yi suddenly understood a bit more about marriage—two people breaking down their walls to become each other’s pillars.

For the first time, she felt that the reticent Qin Nanshan wasn’t so bad.

After a while, their dog jumped off the sofa, breaking the quiet. Startled, Wen Yi coughed lightly and said awkwardly, “I need to take my folic acid.”

Qin Nanshan got up to fetch her medicine and water. After watching her take it, he said softly, “Wen Yi, I’m sorry.”

She held the glass, smiling faintly. “There’s no need to apologize. I have our baby.”

“Next time something like this happens, tell me. Don’t bottle it up. We’re not playing house.”

“Okay.”