At first, Qi Ji hadn’t quite caught the manager’s pronunciation. His first thought was that he had said “Wān de” (curved).
Only later did he realize it was “Wonder.”
From “Fuguo” to an English company name, the change in style was quite a leap. Qi Ji wondered whether the manager, who kept saying “we Fuguo,” would be able to adjust to it.
Unexpectedly, the manager showed no resistance to the new name; in fact, there was even a hint of anticipation. He chuckled: “It’s a good name, Wonder—miracle, very meaningful.”
He even addressed Qi Ji: “By the way, Little Teacher, isn’t your name also ‘Miracle’? What a coincidence!”
Qi Ji’s expression remained gentle, and he replied politely, “Yes, quite a coincidence.”
Internally, however, he felt no particular stir.
Because of the homonym, many had remarked on his name, and Qi Ji had grown accustomed to it over the years.
Others called him “miracle,” but only Qi Ji knew the truth—it just sounded similar.
A miracle is a surprise, a gift, something that makes people ecstatic.
And he?
He was just a “Ji,” a dependent on others.
By the time the tour ended—two hours later—the cheerful manager had escorted Qi Ji out and enthusiastically handed him box after box of gift sets.
Semi-baked cheesecakes, strawberry chocolates, nougat cookies… all high-priced, exquisitely made products, as if they were being given away for free, all shoved into Qi Ji’s hands.
Coincidentally, a car was heading back to the city from the factory, and they offered to take Qi Ji along. He had already politely declined many of the gift boxes, saying one person couldn’t carry them all. Yet as soon as the car started, the manager added another seven or eight boxes, filling both the rear seats and the trunk of the van before finally stopping.
Even Qi Ji, who was accustomed to maintaining a gentle smile, was genuinely surprised by the manager’s enthusiasm.
By the time they returned to the city, night had fully fallen. The car couldn’t drive directly to the villa due to traffic restrictions on Hunan Road, and just as they arrived, they happened to meet Uncle Xu’s car.
Although lean, Uncle Xu was incredibly strong; with one hand he lifted nearly ten gift boxes and easily loaded them into his car.
With the backseat piled high with desserts, Qi Ji took a few loose boxes and sat in the passenger seat. He casually asked, “Uncle Xu, has CEO Pei returned?”
Uncle Xu, driving, said, “Young master is still busy.”
Qi Ji nodded.
He thought the conversation would end there, but then he suddenly heard Uncle Xu sigh.
“The young master has been busy, working nonstop—it’s exhausting, and he won’t listen to advice. Though he’s young, the weight on his shoulders is immense. We’ve watched him grow, and we know that no matter how hard it gets, he never shows weakness.”
Night had fallen, low street lamps cast dim yellow light, and rows of old trees formed mottled shadows. The autumn wind blew through, making the atmosphere feel even more desolate.
Uncle Xu’s voice was low, yet his concern shone through: “It’s precisely because of this that we worry for him even more.”
Qi Ji paused, turning his head to look at Uncle Xu.
Under the flickering lights, his lean, slightly rugged profile looked even more anxious.
Qi Ji thought for a moment: “CEO Pei probably doesn’t care much about others’ opinions, which is why he doesn’t show how hard he works. That’s actually a good thing—he won’t be influenced by outside opinions and can focus on what he wants to do.”
Having spent much of his life acting obedient and considerate, Qi Ji’s first instinct was to analyze situations rationally. Hearing Uncle Xu’s concern, he immediately looked at it from Pei Yusheng’s perspective, offering reassurance in terms of Pei’s benefit.
He had always been like this—analyzing and comforting logically, never really connecting emotionally. He was always polite, thoughtful, and considerate toward others, so used to caring for others that he had forgotten his own feelings.
Uncle Xu fell silent at Qi Ji’s words.
After a long while, he exhaled softly.
It was unclear whether the sigh was for someone else or himself.
“Let’s hope so.”
After dropping Qi Ji off at the villa and confirming he wouldn’t go out again that night, Uncle Xu hurried off, seemingly to tend to other matters.
Pei Yusheng still hadn’t returned. After Aunt Lin finished preparing the meal, she left. Qi Ji was alone in the guest room, spending yet another night with Star.
Unexpectedly, Star informed him that there was a long, cat-shaped plush in the wardrobe that matched a keyword Qi Ji had searched before.
Pulling the plush from deep within the wardrobe, he realized it wasn’t just a match—it was the exact same model as the one in CEO Pei’s bedroom.
The only difference was the pattern: CEO Pei’s was a calico, while this one was a British Shorthair.
Qi Ji frowned: “How do you know there’s a plush in his bedroom?”
Although an AI, Star’s current function was only as a voice assistant; it couldn’t truly act like an omnipotent butler.
Star: “A heart-rate monitor is embedded in the cat plush, and the data is uploaded, which is how I can detect it.”
It continued in a slightly coaxing tone, even through its mechanical voice: “If you hug it while sleeping, it can also record your sleep data. The cat plush is soft and convenient—perfect for children at home.”
Qi Ji, used to Star’s chatter, ignored the last two sentences and focused on the plush.
In both appearance and feel, it was identical to the one in Pei Yusheng’s room, lying quietly on the bed, showing a white belly and pink pads, every inch of fur inviting a touch.
Yet Qi Ji didn’t immediately grab it as he had once longed to do, rubbing and nuzzling it.
He was thinking about the original owner.
Qi Ji was already imposing on this place enough as it was; how could he dare touch someone else’s belongings? He still remembered borrowing clothes—after taking his own clothes home, he had carefully washed and returned any borrowed items and never touched them again.
Messing with a plush was even less appropriate—it was clearly someone else’s cherished item. And this plush, being the same model as CEO Pei’s, was likely purchased as a set, perhaps with special meaning.
No matter how much he liked soft cat pillows, he couldn’t just mess with someone else’s things.
“This must belong to the original owner of the room,” Qi Ji said. “I should put it back. It’s not right to touch someone else’s things without permission.”
Star issued a new notice: “Detection shows no historical data has been recorded by the heart-rate monitor in this plush.”
Qi Ji shook his head: “Maybe they bought it but haven’t had the chance to use it yet.”
He placed the plush back in its original position.
Star, unable to persuade him, fell silent and stayed subdued for a while.
Once Qi Ji began working, it automatically started playing a documentary about kittens again.
This time, Star even blocked his ability to change the streaming permission, so Qi Ji couldn’t switch it to a documentary about tigers no matter how he tried. He ended up listening to the documentary all evening, his neck gradually tightening and aching again.
The next morning, as soon as Qi Ji arrived at Yuntu, he received new news.
The tea and dessert lounge design was indeed a collaborative project. Yuntu was only a pilot; the plan would later be rolled out across the entire Xinghai Group.
Moreover, the design wouldn’t be limited to dessert packaging alone—interior design, dessert spoons, cold drink cups, plates, and more all had to follow a unified style, matching Xinghai’s overall aesthetic and highlighting the company’s signature identity.
This instantly upgraded the project to a much higher tier—certainly a long-term, high-effort endeavor.
Such a project was obviously too big for an intern to handle alone, and even Director Wu might not have the authority to make final decisions. Qi Ji understood this, so he quietly waited for the project team to guide him.
Sure enough, that afternoon, he received notification.
But when he finally saw the person in charge, he couldn’t help but be shocked.
He had assumed that two or three design directors from the subsidiary companies would collaborate on the project, or that a design team would be dispatched from the group headquarters. He never expected that the project lead would be listed under a single, simple English name:
Lina.
Using only an English name like this was a special privilege within Xinghai.
Lina—the chief designer of Xinghai.
She was a local, her age and real name a mystery; most Xinghai employees only knew she was a woman, and had never seen her face.
Yet in the design world, Lina was an undisputed legend.
She rose to fame extremely early, winning award after award over the past twenty years, repeatedly named by various authoritative organizations as one of the ten most influential designers globally. Her work spanned a remarkably wide range: luxury goods, architecture, interior design, stage design, lighting, and more. She had collaborated deeply with high-end brands and was called “a design genius who can gracefully dance across any field.”
She even won a medical design award for a bionic lung she created.
There was no exaggeration—Lina was a true design prodigy.
Seven years ago, Lina signed with Xinghai, leading her personal team to handle design work for the company. Her arrival brought tangible changes. Beyond countless design awards, the simplest proof was Xinghai’s smartphones.
Years ago, Xinghai’s mobile business was still developing, and its designs were criticized as cheap imitations. But in recent years, Xinghai’s phones had completely turned around in reputation, becoming a new fashion benchmark, with flagship models in special colors selling out as soon as they launched.
Qi Ji had certainly heard of Lina. Years ago, when he first taught himself design, the hottest forum threads were compilations of Lina’s publicly released works.
He had never imagined that, during his internship, he would be involved in one of Lina’s projects.
It was like a freshman suddenly joining a team led by an academician.
Coincidentally, Lina had been working in Europe with her team. If not for her returning to S City for this project, she wouldn’t have been involved at all.
By any measure, Qi Ji’s luck was extraordinary—a walking, human-sized lucky charm.
This wasn’t a free lunch falling from the sky; it was golden bricks landing directly in his pocket.
Lina herself wouldn’t arrive for a few more days. In the meantime, Qi Ji was sent to her team’s studio in S City. Naturally, he felt a little anxious and reviewed Lina’s works again before going.
Upon arrival, he realized the Xinghai project hadn’t yet begun. The team was busy with another project assigned by Lina. Qi Ji’s timing was perfect—he could join the team and familiarize himself with Lina’s standards in advance.
The difference between a professional design team and a regular company design department was significant. Once he joined, it felt like someone was pouring knowledge directly into his brain. He was bombarded with professional skills and work. For an intern, this was almost hellishly difficult, but Qi Ji’s solid foundation, years of commercial experience, extraordinary memory, and genuine interest in design turned the challenge into both a test and a growth opportunity.
He felt like a sponge, greedily absorbing professional knowledge.
Life with the team was fulfilling, but the work was intense. All the designers stayed at the studio, and commuting back and forth wasn’t practical. Qi Ji chose a single-person rest room and lived at the studio.
After about half a month, the design drafts were approved, and the designers finally left the studio they had been living in.
Qi Ji returned to the villa on Hunan Road.
Before the overtime, he had messaged Pei Yusheng, explaining that he would be busy and might not return until the project concluded, effectively requesting leave.
Pei Yusheng replied quickly, sending a brief message before Qi Ji could worry about a refusal:
【Okay.】
Qi Ji guessed that Pei was still busy.
Initially, his reluctance to return was driven by the desire not to miss such a valuable learning opportunity. Even when there was a short collective break, giving him ample time to go home and see Qi Mingyu, who had just returned from Argentina, he still chose not to return to the villa.
Deep down, Qi Ji remained wary of this place that didn’t belong to him.
But with the contract already signed, there was no escaping; he returned to the rose villa.
Because the studio had held a celebration banquet, Qi Ji returned late. Uncle Xu had asked if he needed a ride, but Qi Ji politely declined, saying he could manage. He exited the subway and walked back alone.
By the time he arrived, it was nearly eleven o’clock. The villa, already serene, was utterly quiet. The vast space made the faint echo of his footsteps almost audible as he entered.
Qi Ji went straight to the guest room on the first floor, showered quickly, and lay down.
Before sleeping, he reassured Star, promising to watch three hours of the kitten documentary the next day. Once Star’s voice faded, Qi Ji, exhausted from work, succumbed to sleep.
He slept deeply; his long-weary body and mind finally rested. If left alone, he could easily sleep for over ten hours, immune to his biological clock.
Yet just two hours into sleep, Qi Ji was suddenly awakened.
After the arena exhibition match, he had been unconscious for nearly a month, followed by careful diagnosis and treatment from Dr. Zhao. Add half a month of work, and the medication’s effects should have long worn off.
But they hadn’t. Qi Ji still felt lingering sensitivity, whether waking in the morning or being accidentally touched.
Now, with a figure suddenly pressing against him, a bare wrist gripped tightly, Qi Ji’s skin flared with unbearable, irritating shivers.
The touch burned like a roaring flame. Startled, Qi Ji instinctively used combat moves, struggling to throw the person off him.
But he failed.
It was as if the other anticipated his every move, or perhaps his strength was overwhelming. Even Qi Ji’s most dangerous techniques were effortlessly countered. In just two seconds, the person subdued him completely.
“Ugh…!”
His wrists pinned above his head, chest exposed with no defense, and legs restrained, Qi Ji lifted his neck, gasping, his dark vision blurred by moisture.
Who… was this…
In the pitch darkness, he felt the figure lean down, hot breath grazing his bare neck, evoking tremors far stronger than mere pressure.
The scent was intoxicating, as if the person themselves were aflame, pressing against Qi Ji’s neck so closely it could ignite him.
“Ugh… let go…”
His feeble struggle was useless. Trapped, he suddenly heard a voice.
Hoarse and deep, it was usually cold but now seemed wrapped in blazing heat, each word scorching.
“Don’t move.”
Qi Ji’s misty eyes widened in disbelief.
The voice… was so familiar he could not mistake it.
The person before him… was none other than the one he hadn’t seen for a long time…
Pei Yusheng.