Chapter 4

The food hadn’t arrived yet, but Fu Linxiao poured himself a drink first. “Let’s keep this quick and dirty—I’m starting without you. You don’t drink. How are your eyes lately?”

“They’re okay,” Qiao Jin said. “I’ve got a follow-up this weekend.”

Fu Linxiao raised his glass toward him. “Vision is a gift. Take good care of it.”

Qiao Jin poured himself a token amount of alcohol, but Fu Linxiao snatched the glass away and replaced it with water.

The place was packed tonight—it took over thirty minutes just for the food to start arriving.

Fu Linxiao was almost buzzed. “We’re already late anyway. Don’t stress. Who knows? Maybe President Lu Pingzhang won’t even come home tonight.”

Although there was a 90% chance Lu Pingzhang wouldn’t come home, Qiao Jin’s instinctive aversion to risk told him not to push his luck by testing the man’s boundaries.

The dishes arrived one by one. Calmly and unhurried, he rolled up his sleeves and helped Fu Linxiao peel open the crispy, deep-fried shrimp.

Both of them wore crisp white dress shirts, impeccable and neatly pressed. Their cool, elite aura was half-dissolved by the warm clatter of the meal, revealing a rare glimpse of casual indulgence.

“Don’t overthink it.” Fu Linxiao tugged open his collar. “How’s your mom been lately?”

“Same as always.”

Fu Linxiao nodded and sighed. “Take it one step at a time.”

As it neared 9 p.m., Fu Linxiao still had half a glass of wine left. He stood up. “Let’s head out.”

Qiao Jin glanced at the wine. “No rush. Finish that first.”

Fu Linxiao leaned on the table, laughing. “You have no idea what your face looks like right now… I’m good. Let’s go.”

He already reeked of alcohol. When he turned, he was unsteady on his feet. Qiao Jin had no choice but to take him home first.

On the way back, they passed a pharmacy. Qiao Jin stopped to buy several bottles of eyedrops—plus a few boxes of condoms.

By the time he got home, it was close to 10 p.m. The Lu Pingzhang residence was quiet. As his footsteps approached, the bedroom’s voice-activated light flicked on, but there wasn’t a sound.

Qiao Jin let out a breath.

Lu Pingzhang really hadn’t come home tonight.

He headed to shower, but the moment he stepped into the bedroom, he froze.

Lu Pingzhang was lying on the bed. Upon hearing movement, he sat up, leaning against the headboard, staring straight at him.

Qiao Jin’s whole body tensed, joints locking like seized gears.

Lu Pingzhang pressed his fingertips to his temple, eyes narrowing from the sudden light. “Where were you?”

Qiao Jin opened his mouth. He didn’t want Lu Pingzhang to know he’d been out eating all night. Instinctively, he took a step back. “Gym.”

Lu Pingzhang lit up his phone, glanced at the time. “What kind of gym’s still giving private sessions at ten?”

Qiao Jin swallowed, about to reply, but didn’t get the chance.

“Come here,” Lu Pingzhang said.

Qiao Jin stayed rooted in place, then turned abruptly and opened the bathroom door. “I’m taking a shower.”

The sound of rushing water echoed for a while. Qiao Jin stayed under it long enough to ensure there wasn’t even a trace of alcohol on him before coming out.

He tied the robe belt slowly, eyes flicking toward Lu Pingzhang, who was still propped up at the head of the bed.

Lu Pingzhang had put down his phone and was watching him.

Qiao Jin wasn’t fond of the cold white lights in the bedroom. They made everything look sterile and stripped of warmth. Even in the hazy intimacy of night, they dulled any hint of tenderness.

“Not busy lately?” Qiao Jin asked.

“What were you doing behind my back?” Lu Pingzhang countered.

Qiao Jin calmed down and answered honestly, “Had dinner with a friend. There was traffic—it made me late.”

Lu Pingzhang didn’t ask who the friend was. He just stared at him. “Why’d you lie earlier?”

“I really did plan to go to the gym,” Qiao Jin said, standing by the bed, water dripping from his hair and soaking into his robe. “It just slipped out. It won’t happen again.”

Lu Pingzhang said nothing. His sharp nose bridge made his face look even colder in silence.

Qiao Jin thought for a moment, then climbed over him to sit by his side. “Can you check if there are still marks on my neck?”

He tilted his chin up, the movement revealing a clean line from jaw to collarbone. “Everyone kept staring at me today. If this keeps happening, I’ll just take time off from work.”

Lu Pingzhang’s gaze slid down from his neck to his collar, eyes growing darker.

Qiao Jin in a suit and tie at the office was a different person than the one lounging on the bed in a robe—elegant and restrained by day, careless and indulgent by night.

Lu Pingzhang dropped the earlier topic. Clearly, he was more interested in the present.

Qiao Jin untied the belt he had just fastened. His hand slid toward Lu Pingzhang, voice husky and low like the hour: “Can I ask you for time off directly?”

Lu Pingzhang caught his hand and kneaded it hard, like he was handling a precious artifact.

“Saturday’s your eye check-up,” Lu Pingzhang said. “I’ll go with you.”

Qiao Jin replied, “I’m not a child. I don’t need an adult to accompany me to the hospital.”

Lu Pingzhang ran a hand through his still-damp hair, then tugged up the robe and used it to roughly pat him dry.

“Get on,” he said.

“You mean right now?” Qiao Jin paused. “I’m not quite ready…”

“Get on,” Lu Pingzhang repeated.

Qiao Jin bit his lip, then reached down to handle things himself. After a quick moment, he climbed on.

Lu Pingzhang cupped his jaw and pulled him forward.

Qiao Jin couldn’t move, forced to meet his eyes.

They were so close, their breaths mingled at the tips of their noses. Lu Pingzhang kissed the corner of his lips, then locked eyes with him and said with quiet authority, “Don’t lie to me again. Not a single word.”

• The two boxes of condoms Qiao Jin bought the night before were now short two. He tucked the rest into the bedside drawer.

He sat dazed at the edge of the bed, feeling like things couldn’t go on like this. As he spaced out, Lu Pingzhang entered the room, walked to the bed, and bent down to kiss him.

“Awake? Eat breakfast before heading to work.”

The crisp chill of early morning mixed with his faint, woody scent came rushing forward. Qiao Jin froze for a moment, then snapped awake instantly.

President Lu Pingzhang, in a sharp suit, was—without a doubt—strikingly handsome, to a jaw-dropping degree. The calm confidence and air of authority unique to a mature man radiated from him effortlessly.

Qiao Jin hadn’t expected him to still be here at this hour. In hindsight, he must really not be busy lately.

Which was strange—year-end was approaching, typically the season when major corporations were scrambling to hit their KPIs.

Lu Pingzhang reached out and tousled his hair. “Whose car did you come home in last night?”

Qiao Jin recalled the car parked downstairs and pressed his lips together. “Lin Xiao’s.”

Lu Pingzhang gave a slight nod, his tone unreadable. “Had dinner with him too?”

Qiao Jin looked at him and nodded slowly.

Lu Pingzhang didn’t press further. Instead, he said, “I’m going on a business trip for the day. I’ll take you to the hospital tomorrow morning when I’m back.”

Qiao Jin hesitated, then slowly nodded again.

“So obedient,” Lu Pingzhang chuckled, leaning down to kiss him once more. “If anything comes up, call me. If it’s urgent, find Old Zheng. He’s a chatterbox, but he gets things done.”

Qiao Jin was a little puzzled but nodded slowly anyway.

That small sense of confusion lingered until he arrived at the office and saw the message from Secretary Yin.

Secretary Yin had sent over a screenshot of their flight itinerary for the day—

Lu Pingzhang had always informed him of his travel plans, but never in such detail.

A knock sounded on the office door. Zheng Rongguang first peeked through a crack, saw only Qiao Jin inside, then straightened up and stepped in.

Qiao Jin put down his phone, leaned back in his chair, and looked at him with a faint, knowing smile.

Unaware he’d been backhandedly praised by Lu Pingzhang that morning, Zheng’s eyes lingered on the papers in front of Qiao Jin, fixating on the fountain pen in his hand. “We need to talk.”

“Take a seat.” Qiao Jin gave the floor a push with his foot, sliding his chair away from the desk.

Zheng Rongguang lit a cigarette with a click, exhaling a puff of smoke.

Qiao Jin looked at him silently.

Zheng Rongguang paused mid-motion, asking, “You smoke?”

Qiao Jin wordlessly shook his head and got up to open the window.

The wind swept in, blowing his bangs back. On the 30th floor, the wind was sharp and wild, scattering the smoke almost instantly.

Qiao Jin stood by the window with his back to the visitor. Zheng Rongguang stared at his long, straight silhouette, shivered, and stubbed out the cigarette. “Damn, cold, cold—close it, I’m done.”

Qiao Jin chuckled softly and pulled the window halfway closed.

Zheng Rongguang used a tissue to wipe the ash off the desk. Finding no trash bin, he crumpled the tissue in his hand and said, “I wasn’t happy when you parachuted into the company at the beginning of the year. At first, I thought you were just like me—one of President Lu Pingzhang’s trusted men. But you showed no passion or emotional investment in the company.”

His gaze landed meaningfully on Qiao Jin’s neck. “You don’t even care how others see you or what they think.”

Qiao Jin didn’t turn around, squinting into the wind.

“Then I figured maybe you were a relative of his. But I didn’t expect,” Zheng Rongguang let out a scoffing laugh, “that you’d be the boss’s wife.”

Qiao Jin neither confirmed nor denied it, though he personally rejected that title.

Zheng Rongguang looked at him, cigarette bitterness still clinging to his voice: “You did it on purpose, didn’t you? Making a statement.”

With the smoke now gone, Qiao Jin closed the window. After standing in the cold wind for a while, his hands looked pale, almost translucent at the fingertips.

Zheng’s gaze slowly roamed across his face, from his clear eyes to the sharp lines of his nose, and he seemed to finally accept his identity.

“You should’ve just said so earlier,” he grinned. “Fine, I’ll admit it.”

Qiao Jin slid the layoff list toward him. Zheng Rongguang scanned it—his nephew’s name wasn’t there.

He flipped the list over a couple of times, then broke into a wide grin. “See? I knew it. We’re all on the same side.”

The list showed over a dozen people from the organizational department alone being cut, but Zheng Rongguang completely ignored that. Beaming, he said, “Don’t worry. From now on, you’ve got me watching your back. You’ll be just fine.”

Qiao Jin gave him a slight smile and asked quietly, “What about Yu Feng?”

“Yu Feng really wasn’t my call.” Zheng Rongguang straightened a bit, his tone more serious. “President Lu Pingzhang doesn’t want him around.”

Qiao Jin showed just a trace of confusion.

Zheng Rongguang hesitated, then said, “He went to the same university as President Lu Pingzhang’s younger brother.”

Qiao Jin froze—he had never heard that Lu Pingzhang had a younger brother. He’d only known that his parents died young, that he was always on his own and had very few relatives.

Holding the layoff list in hand, Zheng Rongguang checked the door was fully shut, then lowered his voice: “When President Lu Pingzhang’s brother was in college, he got into a car accident. Spent two months in the ICU… and didn’t make it.”

Qiao Jin didn’t move for a long moment. Lu Pingzhang had never once mentioned this.

“You really shouldn’t bring it up,” Zheng Rongguang said, like he was afraid Lu Pingzhang could hear him from thousands of miles away. His voice dropped to a careful whisper. “President Lu Pingzhang gets angry if it’s mentioned. I think seeing Yu Feng just reminds him of things he’d rather not face—he doesn’t want to deal with anything related to that.”

Qiao Jin thought back. The legal department had plenty of staff, but not one had graduated from that university.

As he pieced together some of Lu Pingzhang’s odd behavior over the years, he asked, “Was it three years ago?”

Zheng Rongguang considered for a moment. “I think so. You could barely catch sight of him back then.”

Qiao Jin’s eyes suddenly stung. He closed them for a moment, trying to ease the sensation. Zheng Rongguang watched him, hesitated to reach out, but didn’t dare. “What’s wrong?”

It took Qiao Jin two blinks before he could open his eyes again. He forced a smile. “Nothing. Haven’t slept well these past couple of days… I’m gonna lie down for a bit.”

Zheng Rongguang awkwardly pulled his hand back. “Okay then. Let me know if you need anything.”

Qiao Jin nodded. After Zheng Rongguang left, he took out some eye drops from the drawer, used a few, then leaned back, staring at the ceiling in a daze.

After a moment, he pulled out his phone and messaged Secretary Yin:

“Are you busy, Secretary Yin? I’d like to ask you something.”

But instead of a reply, he got a call.

Qiao Jin answered, “Hello?”

“It’s me—I just got off the plane,” came Lu Pingzhang’s voice on the other end. “What did you want to ask?”

“……”

Yesterday’s punishment had left a bit of a lingering effect on Qiao Jin, but not too much.

He said, “I just wanted to ask if that plane ticket was real. Where did you actually go?”

Lu Pingzhang didn’t respond. Instead, he hung up—and immediately video-called him.

Qiao Jin quickly redid the top button of his dress shirt and accepted the video call.

Lu Pingzhang’s face appeared onscreen. Neither of them spoke immediately.

Then Lu Pingzhang looked at him more closely, his expression suddenly tightening. “You’ve been crying?”

Qiao Jin blinked, then smiled faintly. “Just used eye drops.”

“Not feeling well?”

“Eyes are a little sore.” Qiao Jin asked, “Is that the Guangzhou airport behind you?”

Lu Pingzhang tilted the camera to show the signage, then looked back at him. “Next time you want to check up on me, find someone more reliable. You won’t get much out of Yin Xiangdong.”

Qiao Jin lowered his gaze with a faint smile and casually asked, “Then who should I ask?”

Lu Pingzhang actually gave it some thought before answering, “Ask Xiao Chang, or Sister Dai.”

Xiao Chang was his driver, and Sister Dai was the housekeeper who came by regularly. When Lu Pingzhang wasn’t too busy and stayed at home, she would come over to cook.

Qiao Jin didn’t react much—he just reached up and pressed lightly against his eyes.

Lu Pingzhang’s smile faded. He instructed, “I’m hanging up. Make sure you rest. No more screens—no computer or phone today.”