His voice was especially quiet, and Guan Xuexin didn’t catch what he said. “What? Speak up, ge!”

“Nothing.” Jiang Quyan yawned to cover it up. “Don’t get your hopes up. It’s just temporary. Who knows, your dad might find you a new stepmother soon. Then you’ll have another little brother or sister.”

Guan Xuexin gasped. “No way! Dad already has someone new?” Since this directly affected her life, she had to care. “I didn’t like the old witch, but she just passed away. Dad is too much! If I died and James found someone new right away, I’d haunt him as a ghost!”

“There’s nothing yet. Don’t overthink it,” Jiang Quyan reassured her. He didn’t want to ruin her image of her father. “I just meant it could happen in the future. Your dad isn’t that old. It’s not too late for him to remarry.”

Guan Xuexin wasn’t keen on the idea. “I think he’s cursed. My mom was cursed by him, the old witch too. If he finds a fourth wife, even if she’s some celestial star of fortune, it won’t end well for her.”

Jiang Quyan listened to her and hummed softly in response.

Guan Xuexin wasn’t done venting. “Any woman who goes for him now must be trash—just after his money. Otherwise, why marry a fifty-year-old man, knowing his wife just died?”

“Yeah,” Jiang Quyan agreed. “Someone like that must be bad news.”

Guan Xuexin thought Jiang Quyan might be able to talk some sense into her dad. “You should remind him. A person his age still has to care about his reputation. Money isn’t everything—imagine working hard your whole life just to ruin your legacy in the end.”

“I got it,” Jiang Quyan said. He realized she still cared about Guan Zhengying—otherwise, she wouldn’t be worried about his reputation. “Your dad didn’t raise you for nothing. Don’t worry, he knows. You’re his blood, his real family.”

After the call, Jiang Quyan rubbed his face, sighing into the cold air.

When he left his room, the kitchen lights were off, but someone was there. Guan Zhengying was warming up milk in the microwave.

“You’re up early,” Guan Zhengying noted.

Jiang Quyan forced a smile and took the cup from him. The warmth of the ceramic cup soothed his cold hands. He took a sip, feeling the heat spread through his stomach.

Guan Zhengying stood by the microwave, its yellow glow flickering over his face.

“When are you going back?” Jiang Quyan asked himself before realizing he had spoken out loud.

Guan Zhengying turned to look at him. “My flight is tomorrow. I can still spend today with you.”

Jiang Quyan didn’t meet his gaze. “Spend the day doing what? You should be with your wife. Her mourning period isn’t even over.”

Guan Zhengying frowned but stayed silent.

Jiang Quyan knew he shouldn’t have said that—but he had done it on purpose. “Guan Zhengying, I don’t need you to stay with me. I don’t want you to.”

He took a deep breath and spoke quickly before he could hesitate. “I don’t want to manage your family affairs, your kids, or your money. I’m not part of your family, and I don’t want to be. If I ever did anything in the past that made you think otherwise, I’m telling you now—I don’t.”

His fingers tightened around the cup. He bit down hard on those last two words: “I don’t.”

Guan Zhengying fully turned to face him. “Is it that you don’t want to, or that you think you shouldn’t?”

Jiang Quyan closed his eyes briefly. “I don’t want to.”

“Look at me and say it,” Guan Zhengying demanded.

Jiang Quyan met his gaze head-on. “I’ve told you before—I like my life as it is. I’m satisfied. I just want to live simply—do my job, go out with my friends after work, rest. Maybe, if fate allows, I’ll find someone normal and start a normal family. If not, that’s fine too. I’ve always thought this way.”

“I’m grateful for the opportunities you’ve given me. I appreciate that you recognize my abilities. It’s an honor to help you and your kids. I’ve said it to everyone—without you, I wouldn’t be where I am today. You’re the person I respect, admire, and trust the most. But beyond that, I have no other thoughts—”

“Enough,” Guan Zhengying cut him off.

Jiang Quyan pressed his lips together, his face set in stubborn defiance.

Guan Zhengying took a deep breath as if trying to steady himself. He spoke as calmly as he could. “Did I scare you yesterday? Or did I do something wrong?”

“No,” Jiang Quyan shook his head. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I really appreciate you—”

“I don’t want your gratitude.” Guan Zhengying reached for his hand. “I want—”

“Don’t.” Jiang Quyan pulled away, raising his voice. “You have a wife, Guan Zhengying. Think before you speak. You have two kids! Your daughter isn’t even an adult yet. How do you want her to see you? Do you even care? Do I have to be the one to remind you of all this?”

Guan Zhengying’s brows furrowed tightly. He looked like a wounded animal, trapped and in pain.

“Are you leaving or not?” Jiang Quyan couldn’t go on anymore. “If you won’t leave, I will.”

Guang Zhengying pressed him down. “Do you really want me to leave?”  

Jiang Quyan gritted his teeth. “Yes.”  

Guang Zhengying nodded. “I’ve disturbed you. Get some rest.”  

He hadn’t brought anything with him anyway—just grabbed his coat and left.  

The door slammed shut with a loud bang. Jiang Quyan violently smashed the cup of milk in his hand onto the floor.  

The porcelain shattered with a crash, and milk spread beneath his feet. He slowly crouched down, covering his face, and broke down, tears running down his face.  

……

But for the next two months, life was indeed much quieter.  

Aside from a few work calls from Maggie and one contact from HR regarding his official VP appointment letter, no one really reached out to him. Guan Xuexin visited with her boyfriend for a weekend, and the three of them had dinner together. Since she had school, she flew back on Sunday. His other friends only stayed in touch through messages—he hadn’t met up with anyone.  

Guang Zhengying never contacted him again. Any necessary work communication was passed through Secretary Mai Xuwen.  

By the time Jiang Quyan officially returned to work, it was already summer.  

June in Hong Kong was unbearably hot. The air outside at 8 a.m. was thick and humid, while the subway air conditioning blasted like electricity was free. By the time he walked from his home to the station, the collar of his shirt was damp. The moment he entered the station, cold air slammed against the back of his neck. Then, stepping out, he was immediately hit by another wave of heat. The constant temperature shifts made him dizzy, sneezing non-stop. Avoiding a cold felt like a blessing from the gods.  

His sports car had been lent to Luo Jiajun for an important client meeting, so this newly promoted Vice President had no choice but to take the subway like an ordinary worker on his first day back. By the time he reached the company, his shirt was damp in the front and stiffly cold in the back—he just wanted to get to his office and change.  

In his rush, he nearly bumped into someone—or rather, someone deliberately stood in his way. He was about to say, “Excuse me,” when he looked up and saw Lin Zhichang.  

This head of the Lin family—the elder brother of Lin Zhifang, the company’s “First Wife”—was also Guang Zhengying’s brother-in-law and a current board member of Fuzheng Group. He was dressed to impress, his hair meticulously dyed jet black without a single white strand, slicked back to give his skull an exaggerated height. A pair of sunglasses perched on top of his head, and he wore a deep cherry-purple suit with a gold-striped tie. His polished leather shoes gleamed, and he was followed by two bodyguards, parading through the office as if it were his personal playground.  

“So, this is our new VP?” Lin Zhichang smiled. “I heard you were on leave. Been a while.”  

Jiang Quyan didn’t want to create a scene, so he politely greeted him. “Director Lin.”  

Lin Zhichang’s gaze was cold and condescending, his expression openly hostile. “Watch your words. I’m not one of your directors.”  

Jiang Quyan was confused. What was he suddenly going on about?  

“My little sister was too kind, too weak. Even willing to share her own husband with others—it’s no wonder you’ve gotten to where you are now. But Mr. Vice President, let me be clear, she and I are not the same type of people.” Lin Zhichang smirked.  

Jiang Quyan looked at him directly. “Then, may I ask, what kind of person are you?”  

“I believe in an eye for an eye,” Lin Zhichang circled him. “If someone wrongs me, I return the favor tenfold. It may be a primitive rule, but even in a civilized society, it works.”  

Jiang Quyan chuckled. “Then I have nothing to worry about. We’ve never had any dealings. I’ve never offended you, nor do I owe you any favors. So, I assume you won’t trouble me.”  

Lin Zhichang let out a dry laugh.  

Jiang Quyan simply followed his lead. “Of course, fairness is important. I also don’t have time to waste on unimportant, insignificant people.”  

He then stepped aside, clearing the way for Lin Zhichang to pass. Lin Zhichang scoffed but ultimately led his entourage away.  

Back in his office, Jiang Quyan found the whole encounter amusing.  

“You really didn’t know?” Maggie, his assistant, was surprised at how out of the loop he was. “The official board meeting was last week. Major reshuffle. Lin Zhichang was removed from the board.”  

Jiang Quyan was stunned. No wonder Lin had been in such a foul mood. He probably thought Jiang Quyan’s “Director Lin” was sarcasm.  

But Jiang Quyan genuinely hadn’t heard about it. “That sudden? The board voted him out?”  

“Yeah. Apparently, when they announced the results, he almost blew up right then and there.”  

“Almost? So, he didn’t?”  

“He knew he had no ground to stand on. That seat wasn’t even his to begin with—it belonged to his father. Back then, the old man invested heavily in the company, so he got a seat. But Lin Zhichang hasn’t contributed anything. Why should he get to inherit the position? It’s the 21st century, not a monarchy. Honestly, they were generous enough to keep him this long for the sake of appearances.”  

“But he won’t take this lying down. Did he do anything else?”  

“Not sure. But the boss has been under a lot of pressure from the Lin family lately. His mood has been terrible.”  

Jiang Quyan frowned. “Shouldn’t he be happy to get rid of Lin Zhichang?”  

Maggie sighed. “That’s the logical way to look at it. But you haven’t seen him these past two months—worse than menopause. Even the smallest issues would set him off, and he’s been piling on work like crazy. We’re still managing, but the secretarial department had to hire two extra people just to keep up. Everyone’s been walking on eggshells.”  

“That bad?” Guang Zhengying wasn’t normally so emotional. “Did something else happen?”  

“Probably also has to do with the young master.”  

“Ah Hong? What did he do now?”  

“You know how his dear daddy sent him to a subsidiary to ‘gain experience’? Instead of learning how to run a business, he started acting like a prince—ordering people around, claiming all the credit when things went well, and shifting the blame when problems arose. It got so bad that the general manager of the subsidiary resigned, explicitly stating in his letter that the young master was interfering with operations. The boss was so furious he made his son kneel in front of his mother’s memorial hall for three days and even froze his credit cards.”

Sounds exactly like something a glory-seeking prince would do.

Jiang Quyan chuckled. “I thought Lin Zhichang would at least give his nephew some pointers, but it seems even an uncle can’t rein in this young master.”  

“Lin Zhichang can barely keep himself afloat—how would he have the energy to manage this mess? Honestly, it’s for the best. If the young master and his uncle joined forces, who knows how much chaos they’d stir up?”  

“Besides, Lin Zhichang might not even think highly of Ah Hong. Ah Hong is all show and no substance, while Lin Zhichang is deep and calculating, patient and strategic. Their personalities don’t align at all. Right now, Ah Hong is nothing more than a burden. He’s nowhere near qualified to form an alliance with Lin Zhichang.”  

Maggie summed it up with a sigh. “Anyway, it’s a complete disaster—nothing but chaos.” She casually tossed the report onto her boss’s desk. “Here’s next month’s PR plan. Go report to the boss yourself—I seriously can’t deal with this anymore. If there’s any feedback, we’ll discuss it later.”  

With that, she slipped away as fast as a rat, as if afraid that if she stayed a second longer, Guan Zhengying would catch up and scold her.