Chapter 10: Does That Make You Happy?

In the hallway outside the President's office, Wen Yirou carried an insulated bag, her steps light.

She had put on a newly bought apricot dress today, her hair carefully pinned into a bun, her makeup delicate and understated.

Inside the insulated bag were cordyceps flower chicken soup, sweet and sour spare ribs, stir-fried seasonal greens, and crab roe tofu.

Over the past six months, she had learned all his tastes.

His stomach was weak—no spicy food, light flavors only, and soup had to be simmered a full three hours.

He was busy and often forgot to eat, so she kept finding new ways to bring him meals.

Her mother had said, "To win a man, win his stomach first."

Wen Yirou believed it wholeheartedly.

As she reached the office door, Cheng Yu happened to step out.

"Miss Wen." Cheng Yu stopped.

Wen Yirou smiled gently. "Assistant Cheng, is Linzhou in? I brought him lunch."

"President Fu is in the reception room. He has a guest," Cheng Yu said.

"A guest?" An inexplicable tightness seized Wen Yirou's heart. "Who?"

"Miss Su Qingsi. It's her first day reporting to the company."

The smile on Wen Yirou's face froze.

Su Qingsi?

Reporting to the company? What did that mean?

"Her? Coming to work?" Wen Yirou's smile faded.

"Yes. President Su asked President Fu to look after her, to let Miss Su gain some experience for a while," Cheng Yu replied, all business.

Wen Yirou gripped the handle of the insulated bag.

The eldest daughter of the Su family needed to gain experience at the Fu Group?

This was obviously an excuse—an excuse for Fu Linzhou to keep her close, to see that face every day.

"I'll go take a look," Wen Yirou said, moving to push the door open.

Cheng Yu stepped in her way. "Miss Wen, President Fu is going over business matters. Perhaps you could—"

"I'm his girlfriend." Wen Yirou lifted her head, her eyes already rimmed red.

"Do I have to wait just to bring him a meal?"

Cheng Yu was silent for a second, then stepped aside.

Wen Yirou pushed open the reception room door.

Inside, Fu Linzhou was looking down at Su Qingsi, who had her face tilted up toward him, her neck snow-white, the air between them thick with unspoken intimacy.

At the sound of the door, they both turned.

Wen Yirou caught the look Fu Linzhou hadn't managed to pull back in time.

Deep, complex, carrying an emotion she couldn't read—one he reserved only for Su Qingsi.

When Su Qingsi saw her, her eyes widened slightly in what looked like surprise, then curved as she gave a small nod.

The gesture was so natural, so composed, that it made Wen Yirou—the one who had just barged in—seem the intruder.

Wen Yirou walked forward and lifted the insulated bag higher. "Linzhou, I brought you lunch."

Fu Linzhou frowned. "Why are you here?"

The words stabbed through her chest.

What kind of tone was that? Impatient. Cold. As if her coming here was some terrible inconvenience.

"I made you soup." Her voice dropped.

"Your stomach's bad. I was afraid you'd just grab something random again…"

"The company has a cafeteria. You don't need to make a special trip." Fu Linzhou cut her off, his voice flat.

Wen Yirou's eyes went red.

She looked at him, then at Su Qingsi standing beside him.

Su Qingsi was dressed simply today, but the pale purple made her skin look like jade, her whole figure soft and delicate as a flower in morning dew.

And she—dressed up so carefully—still felt like she didn't belong.

"Then why is she here?" Wen Yirou couldn't hold it back any longer.

"She came to work." Fu Linzhou frowned, not understanding where Wen Yirou got the right to interrogate him.

"Uncle Su asked me to look after her, to let her gain some experience."

"Experience?" Wen Yirou laughed.

"Fu Linzhou, do you think I'm stupid? Does the eldest daughter of the Su family need to gain experience at your side?"

She pointed at Su Qingsi. "You just want her close. You want to look at her every day!"

"What about me? What have these six months been? A nanny on call? A warm body to fill in?"

"Wen Yirou!" Fu Linzhou's voice dropped, a clear warning.

"Am I wrong?" Wen Yirou burst into tears.

"You let her into the company, keep her by your side—did you even consider how I'd feel?"

"What is everyone in the company going to think of me?"

"They'll say, 'Look, Wen Yirou, the official girlfriend, is still around, and President Fu's white moonlight has already moved in.'"

Fu Linzhou's expression turned ugly.

He stared at her, his gaze cold and sharp. "Watch your words. This is a company, not your home."

"A company?" Wen Yirou shook her head.

"Right. This is a company. So you need to save face, protect your image."

"What about my face? Fu Linzhou, what exactly am I to you?"

Su Qingsi stood to the side, watching quietly.

Only when Wen Yirou's sobs had quieted a little did she speak, her voice soft and sweet: "Miss Wen, please don't misunderstand."

"I really am just here to learn. President Fu and my father are old acquaintances—that's why he agreed to look after me. Please don't read too much into it."

She glanced at Fu Linzhou, her eyes a little lost. "President Fu, maybe you should explain things to Miss Wen first?"

Fu Linzhou looked at her, and his irritation only grew.

The more noble and understanding Su Qingsi appeared, the more Wen Yirou looked like a shrew—unreasonable, lacking in propriety, utterly beneath notice.

"No need to explain." Fu Linzhou's voice was hard.

He turned to Wen Yirou. "Go back first. We'll talk tonight."

"Tonight?" Wen Yirou looked at him, grief-stricken.

"Will you even come back tonight? Or are you going to stay with her?"

Fu Linzhou's voice went cold. "Wen Yirou, mind your manners. Don't make a scene here."

"Make a scene?" Wen Yirou reeled back a step, devastated.

"Which word did I get wrong? Fu Linzhou, do you want to have it both ways? Playing office secretary—"

"Enough. Shut up."

Fu Linzhou's face darkened as he fixed her with a look that pressed down on her like a weight.

Wen Yirou froze. It had been a long time since she'd seen that look from him.

Cold. Sharp. Fed up. As if he were looking at a stranger.

"Go back!" he repeated. "Now."

Reason returned to Wen Yirou, and regret flooded in at the words that had slipped out.

Fu Linzhou didn't look at her again. He turned to Cheng Yu. "Cheng Yu, see Miss Wen downstairs."

Cheng Yu stepped forward. "Miss Wen, this way, please."

Wen Yirou didn't move. She just stood there, looking at them.

Fu Linzhou's face was turned slightly away, his jaw tight—clearly holding back anger.

Su Qingsi looked fragile and quiet, but her eyes were indifferent, as if watching a loser not worth her trouble.

Wen Yirou knew that staying any longer would only mean humiliating herself further.

She turned and ran.

Silence fell over the reception room.

Fu Linzhou stood where he was, hands in his pockets, his expression dark.

Su Qingsi stole a glance up at him, her voice light. "President Fu, aren't you going to go after her?"

Fu Linzhou turned to look at her.

She tilted her small face up at him, a little cautious.

"Do you want me to go after her?" he asked.

Su Qingsi blinked. "I just think she treats you well. Cooking for you, bringing you lunch—it's very thoughtful."

Fu Linzhou said nothing.

Su Qingsi went on, "Sese told me some things about the past, but I really don't remember any of it. I don't know why, but I forgot you, of all people."

"So there's really no need for you two to fight over some past that may not even be real."

She lowered her head as she spoke, looking wronged and helpless.

Fu Linzhou looked at her, and the tightness in his chest eased a little.

His voice was gentler than before. "If you forgot, then forget it."

"Just stay at the Fu Group and focus on your work. Don't overthink things."

"Wen Yirou—I'll handle her."