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Jiang Huaiyu hadn’t returned all night, but he sent her a message to let her know he was safe.
Wen Shuyu tidied up the messy couch, smoothing out the wrinkles in the fabric while lingering on the remnants of water stains left behind.
She reflected on everything that happened last night. If not for those unforeseen events, things would have surely turned out differently.
She didn’t shy away from it; in fact, she found herself looking forward to it. She wanted to be closer to him.
There was a natural affinity between them; even when they took different paths, they always found their way back to each other.
Raising her hand, she touched her slightly flushed, warm cheeks. What time was it? Why was she still daydreaming?
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a condom that had slipped between the couch cushions. Picking it up, she inspected it closely: ultra-thin, “Bare Enter 001.” The words Jiang Huaiyu had said echoed in her mind.
They’d used it all up in one night—a box of three. Not too shabby, she thought.
What size did he actually buy?
Though she’d seen it before, her curiosity got the better of her. Wen Shuyu flipped it back and forth five or six times, reading the instruction manual word by word, but there were no markings for size or measurements.
She checked the official flagship store for confirmation. Turns out, condoms don’t come in sizes; they’re all designed based on the average size of Asian men.
In summary, they were all one-size-fits-all.
She realized she had been misled many times in the past.
Keeping condoms in a public space wasn’t ideal. Wen Shuyu tidied up the couch, returning it to its usual state, and stashed the condom in the nightstand for convenience.
Having sorted everything out, she headed to the office. Chen Jin’an’s case was gaining momentum, and they would soon be able to file an appeal.
The matters concerning Jiang Huaiyu’s company were in the hands of Cheng Xianzhi, with her assisting.
Meng Man approached her with concern. “Are you doing okay?”
They had seen their fair share of malicious attacks and smear campaigns in the business world. Often, it was all just a game; this, however, felt like a different level of cruelty.
After such a tumultuous night, Wen Shuyu smiled softly, “I’m fine. Cheng is here.”
She couldn’t help but worry. It was alarmingly easy for the internet to twist the truth. A single photo could spin countless narratives, turning white into black and vice versa.
Thanks to their quick response, the latest test results were out, confirming that the equipment from Liangshi Technology had no safety violations. The news was released across all platforms, and within 24 hours, public opinion shifted.
But their opponents were prepared; the comments section was rife with negative remarks and slander.
“I won’t dare use it again—who knows which one they sent for testing?”
“What if the testing agency was bribed?”
And so on.
Before this incident, most people weren’t familiar with the brand or manufacturers of laser therapy devices. Hospitals simply used whatever was available for procurement.
After the facts were clarified, some online users became hesitant to purchase from Liangshi Technology.
Even with the truth on their side, they were unjustly accused.
It was frighteningly easy to ruin a company.
Like a towering skyscraper, a single explosive could reduce it to ashes in mere minutes, while rebuilding would take over a year.
When accusations fly, they repeatedly advised not to fall into a self-defense trap. Yet when the situation arose, all one could do was step by step prove their innocence.
For the sake of her own integrity, she had to act.
Just days after this incident, another wave hit.
The employee continued to publicly accuse Liangshi Technology online, claiming that their data system leaked patient privacy.
An article, well-researched and filled with supporting images, alleged that Liangshi Technology sold patient information to private hospitals for profit. Some parts of the text were heavily emotional, hinting at manipulation.
Clearly, a professional writer was involved.
One scandal stirred another, and the public was incited against Liangshi Technology, causing their credibility to plummet.
Orders that had been in negotiation were suddenly paused or terminated for this very reason.
Jiang Huaiyu was working late, and Wen Shuyu didn’t want to disturb him. She waited for him to return so they could sleep together.
“You should go check on him,” Song Jinnan suggested, revealing the recent developments to Wen Shuyu, including office communication and dinner meetings.
Just seeing Jiang Huaiyu’s dark circles made her heart ache.
By the time Wen Shuyu received the call, she was already downstairs at Liangshi Technology, intending to see him.
It was clear that their opponents had come prepared, leaving them scrambling to respond.
In a passive position, they had no idea what the next move would be.
The receptionist, Luo Luo, saw Wen Shuyu and attempted to notify Jiang Huaiyu through the internal line, but Wen Shuyu stopped her. “Shh, no need to announce me.”
“Okay, President Jiang is in his office.”
Knock, knock, knock. Wen Shuyu tapped on Jiang Huaiyu’s office door.
“Come in.” Jiang Huaiyu didn’t lift his head, thinking it was probably Song Jinnan.
When no one entered, he looked up to see Wen Shuyu peeking in, her eyes filled with surprise and concern, bloodshot from fatigue.
“What are you doing here?”
“Song Jinnan told me to check on you. I was just about to wrap things up—what do you want to eat?”
Jiang Huaiyu put away his computer and pen, straightening up to greet her.
Wen Shuyu didn’t respond immediately; instead, she stepped closer, using the fading light to study him.
The redness in his eyes was unmistakable, and the dark circles rivaled those of a national treasure.
Bitterness spread in her heart; it was the first time she had seen him like this.
Jiang Huaiyu pressed his fingers to her forehead. “Why the long face? There’s nothing to worry about.”
He was still trying to comfort her, insisting everything was fine.
But the impact on the company’s orders was directly tied to their survival, a crucial bet with Jiang’s father.
How could he say everything was okay?
She couldn’t share much of the burden; her ability to help was limited.
Wen Shuyu forced a smile and looked directly into his eyes. “I’m not frowning; I just wanted to see my husband during the day. I’m used to seeing him at night and thought it’d be interesting to see him in daylight.”
Seeing her lightened Jiang Huaiyu’s mood a bit. He took her hand. “Haha, let’s go grab a bite.”
As July slipped away, the sunset chased away the heat of the day. The sun shifted south from the Tropic of Cancer, and night fell a bit earlier.
Wen Shuyu led Jiang Huaiyu to the restaurant downstairs, where they found a window-side table.
Outside, the dazzling river sparkled, with boats passing by, their lights creating a vibrant display.
The deep blue sky blended with the warm hues of dusk.
As boats drifted by, tourists waved at them.
Suddenly, Wen Shuyu spotted two familiar faces in a corner, waving at Jiang Huaiyu. “Aren’t those Xiao Zizi and Song Jinnan? What are they doing sitting together?”
Jiang Huaiyu turned to look. “I don’t know; Song Jinnan didn’t mention it.”
No wonder he didn’t ask him out for dinner today; he had plans!
Wen Shuyu teased him, “You really don’t care about your friends at all. You don’t focus on Zhou Hangyue, and you don’t even know what’s up with Song Jinnan, who works with you every day.”
As the waiter brought the dishes to the table, Jiang Huaiyu picked up his chopsticks and served her some food. “I only care about my wife; everyone else doesn’t matter.”
Wen Shuyu had become immune to his occasional romantic quips.
“So, can your husband finish work early today? He needs to check in on his wife, who says she misses him a lot,” she said playfully.
With a smile, Jiang Huaiyu nodded. “Sure, when the wife speaks, I’ll make it happen.”
However, a slight hitch appeared at the end of dinner. Jiang Huaiyu received a message and, with a hint of regret, said, “I have one last thing to take care of. I’ll be back as soon as I’m done.”
Wen Shuyu patted his hand. “Go on, I’ll just wander around a bit.”
She wasn’t one to cause a fuss; it was just that she saw Song Jinnan leaving as well, with Fu Qingzi still seated.
Once the two men had exited the restaurant, Wen Shuyu quietly approached Fu Qingzi from behind and tapped her shoulder.
“Xiao Zizi!”
Fu Qingzi turned around suddenly, her eyes wide with surprise as they met Wen Shuyu’s smiling face. “Wen Xiaoyu! What are you doing here?”
Wen Shuyu pulled out a chair across from her. “I should be asking you that! I saw you and Song Jinnan—what’s going on there?”
She wasn’t one to meddle, nor was she particularly interested in gossip, but Fu Qingzi was simple-minded and worried about being deceived, just like with Jiang Huaiyu—she wouldn’t change her ways until she hit a wall.
Fu Qingzi, fidgeting with her beautifully manicured nails, seemed hesitant to speak. After a moment, she finally said, “You have to promise me to keep this a secret. No one can know—except Jiang Huaiyu.”
Once Wen Shuyu assured her, Fu Qingzi spilled the beans about her and Song Jinnan.
Here’s how it happened: just a few days after their car accident, they ran into each other at a bar. Initially, they ignored each other, typical of the nightlife crowd. But when Fu Qingzi found herself in a tough spot, Song Jinnan came to her rescue and even offered to take her home. She’d had a bit too much to drink and, feeling generous, invited him up to her apartment.
What was supposed to be a simple drop-off turned complicated when Song Jinnan stood to leave, and Fu Qingzi, overwhelmed with emotion, suddenly burst into tears on the floor. What kind of man could just walk away when a girl was crying?
“Come on, tell me what’s wrong,” he coaxed, bringing her inside.
“I don’t understand. What’s wrong with me? Why doesn’t anyone like me? I just want to date someone; why is it so hard?” she sobbed, revealing her insecurities.
Song Jinnan glanced around her apartment, then poured her a glass of water from the bar. “It’s not you; it’s them. They just don’t have the vision.”
After crying until she was exhausted, Fu Qingzi looked up at him, her eyes still glistening. “Is Jiang Huaiyu one of them?”
“Well, not really,” Song Jinnan replied, a bit too quickly.
At that moment, Fu Qingzi cried even harder.
Now flustered, Song Jinnan didn’t know how to respond. “Look at me; I’m not exactly winning any popularity contests myself.”
She peered up at him through her tears and said, “Then let’s just settle for each other.”
The air thickened, and Song Jinnan froze, trying to figure out how to respond to that kind of question.
Before he could think it through, Fu Qingzi kissed him.
What happened next? Well, they were adults, so it all went smoothly from there.
Wen Shuyu sat in stunned silence, mouth agape, rubbing her eyes to ensure she was really looking at Fu Qingzi. She never would have guessed she had this kind of potential!
“Wow, I’m impressed! What happened next?”
Fu Qingzi looked shyly down at her lap. “He said he wants to take responsibility for me.”
“As long as you’re okay and using protection, that’s what matters,” Wen Shuyu said, relieved. She understood they were in a relationship now, and the spontaneous nature of it worried her.
“Well, sort of. Don’t worry; I got my period,” Fu Qingzi assured her.
Things had escalated quickly, and Song Jinnan had wisely pulled out at the last moment. She wasn’t foolish; she’d bought the morning-after pill the next day.
It was her move first, so she didn’t blame him.
Wen Shuyu gave her a serious look. “Next time, remember to take precautions. If he doesn’t wear one, you’d better chop it off!”
Fu Qingzi nodded, then turned the tables, “Is that how you treat Jiang Huaiyu?”
Wen Shuyu was taken aback by the sudden shift.
“By the way, I have something to tell you,” Fu Qingzi lowered her voice, looking around to ensure no one was listening.
Wen Shuyu grinned slyly. “Xiao Zizi, let’s brainstorm some ideas!”
By the time they wrapped things up and returned home close to nine o’clock, Wen Shuyu shared the news of Fu Qingzi and Song Jinnan’s relationship with Jiang Huaiyu.
She didn’t know much about Song Jinnan and whether he was serious. The last thing she wanted was for Fu Qingzi to get hurt.
On their way back from the restaurant, Song Jinnan had filled Jiang Huaiyu in on everything, without holding back. Jiang Huaiyu reassured her, “Song Jinnan told me; he promised he’s serious.”
“Let’s hope Fu Qingzi finds happiness,” Wen Shuyu sighed, her brows furrowed in concern.
Jiang Huaiyu smoothed her brow, a habit he’d had since childhood that he still hadn’t outgrown. “You two were so close; I’m surprised you’re taking this so hard.”
Back in high school, they could hardly manage three sentences without getting into a fight, often leaving the impression they might come to blows.
Wen Shuyu pouted. “Who’s to blame? It’s your fault for attracting attention! You still want me to read you some of those comments?”
As she spoke, she pulled out her phone and read aloud dramatically, “Does President Jiang need a warm bedmate? Here’s one who calls him ‘hubby.’ ‘Hubby, you’re so handsome!’ ‘I moved to your district office; hurry up and get your marriage license!’ And here’s another: ‘This is my husband, who coaxed me to sleep last night!’”
These days, netizens have gotten way too bold. Jiang Huaiyu snatched her phone from her hand. “Stop reading; you seem too happy about it.”
Wen Shuyu doubled over with laughter. “Of course! With President Jiang’s market value so high, I don’t have to worry about him being unsellable! Who knows, I might even get a good price. I’ll just count the money while a male model feeds me fruit!”
“Wen Yuyu, you’re finished,” Jiang Huaiyu declared, removing his cufflinks and tossing them into the tray in the closet.
With a burst of energy, Wen Shuyu took off running, but Jiang Huaiyu caught her, wrapping his arm around her knee and hoisting her up as he headed straight for the bathroom.
Her heart raced; surely something would happen today—it was only natural.
In the bathroom, Jiang Huaiyu simply showered with her.
That was it—there wasn’t even a hint of intimacy.
Once they returned to bed, Jiang Huaiyu turned off the lights and pulled her close. “Time to sleep.”
In the darkness, she found courage. Wen Shuyu shyly asked, “Aren’t we going to do anything?”
He would surely understand if she was so direct about it.
Jiang Huaiyu patted her back and kissed her forehead. “It’s too late; I have a busy day tomorrow. Good night, wife.”
His reasoning made sense. “Okay.”
Wen Shuyu obediently closed her eyes.
Smoke curled lazily in the air as a white sedan pulled up beside an old alleyway. Two women stepped out of the car.
One of them, wearing no makeup, was dressed in long sleeves and pants despite the sweltering 35-degree weather, her oversized sunglasses shielding her eyes.
A closer look revealed a faint scar beneath her left eye, covered with a thin scab.
The other woman supported her, as her steps were a bit unsteady.
Sparrows chirped on the telephone wires, the fragrant aroma of fried food wafted through the air, and the sound of children laughing filled their ears.
What a vibrant, lively old town it was!
The two women walked along the cobblestone path, making their way deeper into the alley until they stopped in front of a house marked with the number 09.
They knocked on the old brown wooden door, and a disheveled man in his twenties opened it, his voice dripping with impatience. “Who is it? It’s early!”
The woman in sunglasses removed her glasses, cleared her throat a couple of times, and greeted him in a hoarse voice, “Xie Mo, hello. I’m Wen Shuyu, Jiang Huaiyu’s wife.”