Chapter 23.2

The word “wife” struck a chord in Song Wei, making her heart race. She bolted out of the car.

At the entrance, she slowed her pace to wait for him. She wasn’t bold enough to go in alone.

Zhu Qingfei had sent her a large question mark via text, clearly sensing something was off.

The private room was ready, and a server led them inside.

When the door opened, four or five people turned to look at them, their expressions a mix of surprise and curiosity.

Song Wei quickly masked her nervousness with a polite smile. She glanced at Chen Jubai, waiting for him to speak first.

He introduced her one by one, ending with, “This is my wife, Song Wei, who also recently joined the company as a product manager.”

He didn’t forget Zhu Qingfei, either. “This is Qingfei, a mutual friend of ours.”

Zhu Qingfei, who had arrived earlier, recognized Ling Yaozhi and Zhuo Wan but had been unsure how to explain her presence. Chen Jubai’s introduction was a relief.

The most shocked among them was Ling Yaozhi. He had been one of Song Wei’s interviewers but had assumed she was merely a recommendation from Jiang Zhendong and HR. He never imagined…

Ling Yaozhi struggled to process this. “Jubai, this—?”

After they sat down, Chen Jubai explained, “Song Wei joined the company first; we married afterward. The two events are unrelated.”

Zhuo Wan was next in disbelief. She hadn’t paid much attention to Song Wei before. Today, she had mainly come to confirm the existence of Chen Jubai’s “wife,” still doubting that he had really gotten married.

But when the couple entered, exchanged glances, and introduced themselves, all doubts vanished.

Zhuo Wan’s gaze lingered on Song Wei, still finding it hard to believe.

The young woman before her didn’t seem particularly remarkable—she had soft dimples when she smiled and an air of innocence about her.

Zhuo Wan’s first thought was that they didn’t match. Chen Jubai was a young, accomplished professional. His partner should be someone who could complement him—if not a strong career woman, then at least a well-connected heiress, not a delicate, unassuming girl.

Chu Qi, too, was curious. He mostly wondered how the two had gone from a few blind dates to marriage. What about Song Wei had captivated the usually aloof Chen Jubai?

The undercurrent of judgment on all sides made Zhu Qingfei uneasy. Under the table, she squeezed Song Wei’s knee, her expression sharp as a blade: What’s going on?!

Song Wei shrugged innocently: I’m a victim too.

The meal was fraught with tension, but Zhuo Wan eventually broke the ice. “Manager Song?”

“Yes.”

“Have we met before?”

Song Wei smiled. “Yes, at the last company meeting. I sat in the back.”

“There were a lot of people. I didn’t recognize you. My apologies.”

“It’s no problem.”

Then Ling Yaozhi spoke up. “Jubai, you’ve moved so fast it’s caught us completely off guard.”

Chu Qi chimed in smugly, “Old Ling, they’ve known each other for a while. Just last year, he was asking me for concert tickets. You’re the one who’s clueless.”

Zhuo Wan raised an eyebrow. “Last year?”

“That’s right. Looks like I’m the only one in the loop,” Chu Qi said, relishing his moment of superiority.

At that moment, the usually chatty Zhu Qingfei quietly raised her hand. “I knew too…”

Chu Qi turned to her. “Oh, right, I forgot. You and the miss are good friends?”

Zhu Qingfei’s heart raced, and she stumbled over her words. “Yeah… we grew up together… I’m also at Guangnian. My name is Zhu Qingfei…”

Chu Qi nodded. “I know. Mr. Chen just introduced you.”

Zhu Qingfei gave a small smile, then pressed her lips together, saying no more.

Song Wei noticed Zhu Qingfei’s tightly clenched hands resting on her knees and was taken aback. This wasn’t the Zhu Qingfei she knew—confident and outspoken. It seemed she truly cared about this impression.

Chen Jubai stepped aside to take a phone call. Zhuo Wan took the opportunity to look at Song Wei and asked, “Where did you work before this, Manager Song?”

“In the capital.”

“What made you come back to a small place like this?”

Chu Qi interjected indignantly, “Small place? Nan’an is at least a provincial capital, okay?”

Zhuo Wan shot him a glance. “I wasn’t asking you.”

“The company restructured, and our division was dissolved.”

“Ah, I see.” Zhuo Wan’s tone drew out her response, and she followed up. “How’s the job so far, Manager Song? Are you adjusting well? If there’s anything you find difficult, feel free to let me know.”

“It’s been great, thank you, Director Zhuo.”

Zhuo Wan smiled faintly. “Old Ling, make sure to look out for Manager Song. She’s the boss’s wife, after all. We can’t have her facing any grievances.”

Ling Yaozhi chuckled. “Like I need you to tell me.”

Song Wei began to sense something off. Zhuo Wan’s tone carried an undercurrent of hostility, addressing her as “Manager Song” as though she were merely a junior staff member and not Chen Jubai’s wife.

It was baffling.

She couldn’t quite make sense of it but remembered Chen Jubai’s earlier warning—perhaps this was just Zhuo Wan’s personality.

Zhuo Wan seemed to have endless questions. “How did you and Mr. Chen meet, Manager Song?”

Song Wei answered truthfully, “We were introduced through our families for matchmaking.”

Zhuo Wan’s expression turned subtle. “A whirlwind marriage?”

“You could say that.”

Her gaze became layered with disbelief, dissatisfaction, and incomprehension, coupled with a hint of disdain. It was written all over her face: She’s not worthy.

Finally, Song Wei put two and two together—could Zhuo Wan have feelings for Chen Jubai?

She vaguely remembered Zhu Qingfei mentioning that Zhuo Wan had been personally recruited by Chen Jubai from a Fortune 500 company back when Guangnian was still a fledgling startup. The more Song Wei thought about it, the more plausible it seemed.

She glanced at Zhuo Wan again. That look—wasn’t it resentment?

Wow, really? Song Wei exclaimed internally.

When Chen Jubai returned from his call, he casually refilled her tea. Song Wei held the cup, suddenly feeling at ease. What she feared most was unexplainable animosity. Now that she understood its source, there was nothing to worry about.

The conversation shifted away from her as they began discussing work. Ling Yaozhi commented, “Jubai, I’ve calculated. For our Pioneer Project with Changyan, the profits won’t be significant. It’s a new track for us, and the upfront R&D and operational costs are a big drain.”

“I know, but we still have to do it.”

One sentence was enough for those who had worked alongside him for years to understand. No further explanation was needed.

As founders of the company, their discussion naturally delved deep—about the Pioneer Project, competitor strategies, and industry trends.

Song Wei rarely thought about things from such a high-level perspective and listened intently, almost wishing she had a notebook to take notes.

Occasionally, she would glance at the man beside her.

The man removed his suit jacket, wearing only a crisp white shirt. To avoid getting food on it, he rolled up his sleeves halfway, revealing forearms with visible blue veins that extended all the way to his slender, defined fingers.

Unlike how he was at home during meals, today he exuded the aura of an elite professional. He was Chen Jubai, the CEO of Guangnian Technology, radiating confidence and composure in every gesture.

Last night, he had claimed he wasn’t trained in management, but at this moment, Song Wei felt he was an exceptional leader—able to unify all the executives toward a common goal, which was no easy feat.

The dinner included a variety of seafood, including shrimp. Chen Jubai, perhaps out of habit from peeling shrimp for her at home, continued to do so now, peeling them while engaging in conversation.

When the second shrimp landed in her bowl, Song Wei quietly glanced up. Across the table, Zhuo Wan’s face was visibly clouded with displeasure.

It seemed that, aside from Chen Jubai, everyone at the table ate with mixed feelings, their thoughts scattered in different directions.

By the time dinner ended around nine, they stood at the entrance, waiting for Chu Qi to settle the bill.

From a distance, Zhuo Wan’s gaze remained fixed on Song Wei, as if trying to pierce through her.

Song Wei found it both puzzling and amusing. She hadn’t done anything wrong, so why was she being treated like a target?

Looking down, she noticed the hand of the man beside her hanging at his side. His suit was still off, and his shirt sleeves remained rolled up. Ten minutes ago, this hand—usually busy coding—had been peeling shrimp and serving her food.

A thought crossed her mind, and her hand inched closer.

The last time he returned from Shenzhen and tried to hold her hand, she had dodged, saying she wasn’t used to it. After that, he hadn’t initiated again, respectfully giving her space like a true gentleman.

But all she said was that she wasn’t used to it—not that he couldn’t hold her hand…

Before coming here, Yang Yingqiu had teased her again about their slow progress. Who spends so much time as a married couple without even holding hands?

And then there was that inexplicable hostility from across the table…

Her fingers brushed his, seemingly by accident.

He didn’t react.

Song Wei gritted her teeth and slid her hand into his palm, gripping it.

It’s just holding hands between a married couple—what’s the big deal?

His hand was large, and she realized she could only manage to grasp four fingers.

Chen Jubai finally looked down at her, his eyes filled with surprise.

He didn’t know what had prompted this, but watching her ears gradually turn red brought him a quiet delight.

Leaning closer, he whispered in her ear, “What’s wrong?”

Song Wei’s heart pounded, and she tried to pull away, muttering under her breath so only she could hear, “Forget it if you don’t want to…”

But the man immediately tightened his grip before loosening it again. This time, he interlocked their fingers completely, each space between them fitting snugly.

The warm, dry sensation was unfamiliar.

Song Wei slightly turned her head, afraid he might catch her expression.

Her face must be a little red now, but she couldn’t care less about whether Zhuo Wan was still targeting her.

Before long, a damp warmth spread where their palms were joined.

It was his—her palms rarely sweated.

Their first time holding hands.

Lowering her head, Song Wei discreetly bit back a smile.

Oh, so he’s nervous too.