Chapter 10

Near the Guangnian Building, in a nearby apartment complex, Chu Qi pressed the doorbell three times without any response. Worried that something might have happened to the person inside, he entered the code to unlock the door.

The interior was spotless, resembling a hotel suite. The living room showed no signs of use, and the kitchen stove still had its packaging intact. In short, the place lacked any sense of personal habitation.

But Chu Qi knew that someone had to be here. He’d already checked the office.

Opening the door to one of the secondary bedrooms, he saw the tall figure he was looking for.

“President Chen, so you’re here after all?”

Chen Jubai glanced up lazily, his tone indifferent. “Why are you here?”

“I tried calling you, but you didn’t answer, so I came to find you in person.”

The room was a small workshop. One entire wall was lined with shelves holding various scents, while a table in the center was cluttered with instruments. The air was filled with a faint, complex fragrance.

The boss of Guangnian Technology, Chen Jubai, had two major passions in life: work and perfumery. These seemingly unrelated pursuits somehow coexisted harmoniously in his world.

Interestingly, although he was deeply invested in crafting fragrances, he never wore them himself. It was an unusual hobby, one that few people outside his inner circle knew about.

Chu Qi, a college friend, had stumbled upon this secret by accident.

He still remembered that fateful day during a crowded event. The usually composed and aloof campus genius suddenly stopped a passing girl to ask about her perfume. The girl turned bright red and stammered out the name of her fragrance.

Rumors quickly spread that Chen Jubai had feelings for the girl. Even their dormmates teased him relentlessly until he finally revealed the truth: he wasn’t interested in the girl but in the fragrance itself.

Years later, after the company had earned enough money, Chen Jubai built himself this fragrance lab.

Chu Qi leaned closer, sniffing the air. “What scent is this?”

Chen Jubai glanced at him and handed over two scent strips. “Can you tell the difference?”

Chu Qi practically shoved the strips into his nostrils, but after a few deep inhales, he shook his head in defeat. “Aren’t they exactly the same?”

Chen Jubai gave up explaining.

Chu Qi waved the strips around, filling the room with the delicate aroma. Though he couldn’t identify the specific notes, he had to admit it smelled wonderful. “Give me some to take home later.”

“It’s not ready yet.”

“Come on, I’ll take the prototype!”

“No.”

Chu Qi rolled his eyes internally. Fine, no meant no—who could argue with the boss? Straightening up, he got to the point of his visit. “There’s an event hosted by Fusion Capital. Are you going?”

“No, I have something else to do.”

“What could be more important?”

Chen Jubai didn’t answer. Chu Qi’s mind raced, quickly piecing things together. “Wait, you’ve got a date? Is it with that girl?”

Chu Qi still found it hard to believe. After working at Guangnian for years, he knew all too well what kind of person Chen Jubai was—a high-functioning workaholic for whom the company was his entire world. Outside of eating, sleeping, and occasionally retreating to this apartment, he had zero hobbies or social activities.

Then one day, his emotionally detached boss suddenly had a blind date. Chu Qi would never forget the scene: right after signing the Series C funding agreement, Chen Jubai abruptly left the conference room full of venture capitalists, saying he had somewhere to be.

And not long ago, Chen Jubai even asked him what women liked to do. At the time, Chu Qi happened to have two concert tickets and jokingly suggested he take her to a show. To his surprise, Chen Jubai took the idea seriously and asked for the tickets.

Now even more intrigued, Chu Qi pressed on. “So, are you two official? When are you introducing her to us?”

Chen Jubai remained impassive. “Not yet. You can’t meet her.”

“Wow, unbelievable. There’s actually someone in this world you can’t win over?”

Chen Jubai shot him a side-eye.

Chu Qi grinned mischievously. “Need my help?”

“No.”

Seeing that he wasn’t joking, Chu Qi leaned closer, his tone becoming more earnest. “You’re serious about her, huh?”

The man didn’t answer. Instead, he poured out a batch of unfinished fragrance, letting its aroma fill the room.

Chu Qi sighed. “Well, you’re almost thirty—it’s about time to think about settling down. If she’s the right one, don’t hesitate.”

Chen Jubai leaned against the table, pulling off his gloves. “How do you define ‘the right one’?”

“Family background, character, looks… you know, the basics.”

Chen Jubai chuckled softly. “Then maybe she’s not the right one.”

“Huh?” Chu Qi assumed he meant the girl’s family wasn’t well-off or that she wasn’t particularly attractive. Naturally, he asked, “Then what do you like about her?”

The man lowered his gaze, pondering for a long moment before shaking his head. “I’m not sure. Maybe it’s just instinct.”

Chu Qi’s head was full of question marks.

Chen Jubai waved a hand through the air perfumed with his creation and said slowly, “The human nose has an organ called the vomeronasal organ, also known as the ‘mate-selection organ.’ Everyone has a unique scent. If you’re drawn to someone’s scent, it’s your genes making the choice.”

“This scent is called ‘sex scent.’ It’s pheromones at work, triggering emotional reactions.”

Chu Qi only half-understood. “So, can you smell anything on me?”

Chen Jubai glanced at him. “Sweat.”

“…Great.” Chu Qi grimaced. “So you like her because of her scent?”

The man nodded lightly. “Mm.”

Like a drug.

“Then do you like her, or do you just like the scent?”

Chen Jubai was silent for a moment, unable to answer.

Finally, he deflected. “Finish this year’s report for me.”

Chu Qi groaned loudly. Writing code was a breeze, but drafting reports was pure torture for a tech guy like him.

Trying to change the subject, he said, “By the way, Fusion Capital seems interested in us. They might be key in our next round of funding. Are you sure you don’t want to go tonight?”

Chu Qi urged, “It’s almost the end of the year—the perfect time to build connections. Can’t you reschedule with your girlfriend for tomorrow?”

Chen Jubai’s expression didn’t waver. “There’s an order to things. I already promised her, and I won’t cancel last minute.”

“But it’s not even work-related—”

He stopped looking at him. “I’ll leave Fusion to you.”

Chu Qi groaned dramatically, “Chen Jubai, you’ve changed!”

He really had changed! The Chen Jubai who used to put work above all else, who wouldn’t care even if the sky was falling, was now skipping meetings with investors for a date?!

Incredible.

“Year-end report. Next week,” Chen Jubai reminded him.

Chu Qi made a swift exit.

….

Workday dinners never ran too late. After a meal, everyone usually went home, with no plans for after-parties.

At 8:30, Song Wei excused herself to settle the bill.

The group descended together to the parking lot.

The younger ones each went their own way. Song Wei found him waiting in the car.

When she got in, the car’s interior was perfectly warm, as though it hadn’t been turned off.

“Have you been waiting long?” she asked.

Chen Jubai glanced at her. “No, I just got here.”

He started the car, signaling to turn as they exited the underground parking lot of the mall.

Outside, snow was falling steadily, already forming a thin blanket on the ground.

“It really is snowing,” Song Wei remarked.

“Yes, it’s been snowing for a while now.”

Song Wei loved the snow—she loved the warmth of scarves and pockets, loved lounging on the couch reading a book while snow fell outside, loved waking up under a cozy blanket to a pristine white world.

As a child, snowstorms were heavier than now. By morning, snow would often reach above her ankles. Her brother, Song Gaoyi, would take her downstairs to play in the snow and have snowball fights, always returning home soaked and scolded.

In high school, the heating in their apartment near Nan’an High School was subpar. On snowy nights, the cold was unbearable, so she would squeeze in with Yang Yingqiu and the others. Nestled in the middle, she often fell asleep to their bedtime stories or hushed conversations about work, always drifting off comfortably.

Such memories made snowy days seem inherently warm and nostalgic.

This year brought its own highlights—meeting little Snowflake, landing a good job, and working with great colleagues.

Her gloom from the layoff was melting away bit by bit.

As her thoughts lifted her mood, Song Wei stole a glance at Chen Jubai. He was wearing glasses today—a thin, simple black frame that gave him a slightly different vibe. Today, he looked like a quintessential techie, though his innate clean and polished demeanor remained unchanged.

She recalled what Li Cheng had said earlier, which had completely dispelled her lingering doubts.

Though there wasn’t much basis for it, she trusted that his involvement in her hiring was without personal bias.

“Did you eat yet?” she asked.

“No.”

“…” Song Wei muttered under her breath, “At this rate, you’ll collapse before the company does.”

“I won’t. My daily food intake is sufficient.”

“This isn’t about intake. It’s about your stomach not being able to handle such irregular eating habits. That’s why CEOs often end up with stomach problems.”

Chen Jubai chuckled softly and glanced at her. “Worried about me?”

“Who’s worried about you?” Song Wei turned to look out the window, her cheeks slightly flushed.

The car drove toward her home.

As they neared a street intersection, Song Wei pointed. “Turn right here.”

“Isn’t your home straight ahead?”

She didn’t answer. “Just turn right.”

Obediently, he signaled and turned.

This area was usually bustling, but with the snowfall, it was quieter than usual. She had him park by the roadside, got out, and walked toward a small noodle shop.

Chen Jubai looked up and saw the sign: “Homestyle Noodles.” A faint smile appeared on his lips.

The shop had a vintage decor, likely in business for many years. At the counter, Song Wei turned and asked, “What do you want to eat?”

“Anything’s fine.”

“How about beef noodles? I have them often—they’re pretty good.”

“Sounds good.”

Song Wei placed the order, “One beef noodle, extra noodles, extra beef, and a side of greens.”

After ordering, she found a seat.

Chen Jubai asked, “You’re not eating?”

Song Wei gave him a sidelong glance. He must have forgotten already. “I just had dinner at the gathering.”

Assuming he had been working late before coming here, she added, “If it weren’t for the ever-busy Chen Jubai skipping dinner, I’d already be lying comfortably in bed right now.”

Chen Jubai smirked. “It wasn’t work.”

“Then what was it? If not for work, why were you at the office? Do you really treat it like your home?”

He didn’t answer, instead testing the teapot’s warmth. He poured her a cup first, then one for himself.

“How was work today?” he asked.

“Not bad.” She still had a lot to learn but felt it was manageable.

“I don’t oversee the business side much. If you run into trouble, you can…” Chen Jubai paused. “You can go to Deputy President Ling Yaozhi.”

“Isn’t that overstepping? How would Jiang Zhendong see me? Or do you not believe in my abilities?”

“I believe in you.”

“Then in the office, you’re the boss, and I’m just an employee. Pretend not to know me, okay?” Song Wei looked at him seriously. “Chen Jubai, I really appreciate your help before, but from now on, I want to rely on myself.”

Chen Jubai held her gaze, understanding her words. “Alright.”

Their interactions were far more natural now than during their initial blind date. Especially after the events at noon, Song Wei seemed to have warmed up to him, no longer treating him with the distant politeness of a mere matchmaking prospect.

Later, while he ate quietly, she scrolled on her phone. They sat in silence, yet it felt perfectly comfortable.

After finishing his noodles, Song Wei pocketed her phone. “Let’s go.”

Her home was nearby, but since it was snowing, Chen Jubai insisted on driving her to the gate of her apartment complex. He even fetched a bag of cat food from the trunk.

“I’ll carry it up for you.”

“No need.” Song Wei took the bag, the weight making her arms sink slightly. “You can go now. Bye.”

Casually, he said, “See you tomorrow.”

She nodded vaguely, took a few steps, then turned back with sudden seriousness. “No, we can’t see each other tomorrow.”

Chen Jubai lowered his gaze, smiling faintly. His dark eyes glimmered. “Alright. Not tomorrow.”

She continued walking, her figure disappearing into the snowstorm as she entered the brightly lit lobby.

Only after she was gone did he look away. His gaze fell on the dark green scarf in the passenger seat.

The car still carried her familiar scent, a faint tea-like fragrance, light and refreshing.

When he got home, he brought the scarf upstairs and left it by his bed.

At 10:00 PM, Song Wei finally realized her scarf was missing again: [Did I leave my scarf in your car?]

Two minutes later, she received a reply: [I didn’t see it. Maybe you left it at the noodle shop. I’ll buy you a new one.]

[Never mind. I’ll check the shop tomorrow.]