When Qiao Jin arrived at the office the next morning, he overheard two receptionists whispering about the XiSheng–Ruiyi networking event. He vaguely caught the words “President Lu” and stopped in his tracks.
“Hey ladies,” he asked casually, “anything newsworthy happen at the company today?”
The two young women giggled, clearly enjoying the chance to chat with him.
“The exchange event! Even President Zheng Rongguang was there. How come you didn’t go?”
One of them turned her tablet around to show him the headline:
“XiSheng–Ruiyi Exchange: President Lu Attends with Female Companion.”
Forget the boring business content of the event—Lu Pingzhang showing up publicly with a female partner was the real story. The media had jumped all over it, with photos flooding the internet.
Qiao Jin scrolled all the way to the bottom of the article, his face unreadable.
“Who knows? I wasn’t notified.”
His brow lifted slightly, but he seemed completely unfazed.
“I guess I’m just not as favored as President Zheng.”
Just as he sat down at his desk, his phone rang.
He stared at the caller ID—Lu Pingzhang—for a good seven or eight seconds before answering.
“You at the office?” Lu asked on the other end.
Qiao Jin stayed silent, opening a drawer to pull out some eye drops. He tilted his head back and began applying them.
Not hearing anything, Lu asked again, “Qiao Jin?”
Qiao Jin finally gave a low “Mm.”
“What is it?”
“Can’t I call you just because?” Lu exhaled slowly. Smoke swirled around his phone, as if he were trying to blow it straight at Qiao Jin. If the phone had been Qiao Jin, he would’ve already frowned and stared him down until Lu either waved the smoke away or stubbed the cigarette out completely.
He stood alone in the smoking lounge, staring out the window at the bright daylight.
“What are you up to?”
“Working hard for your company,” Qiao Jin finally replied, his voice still a little hoarse.
“What about you?”
“Smoking.”
Neither of them brought up the networking event. Lu didn’t mention his “female companion” in the news, and Qiao Jin didn’t ask. Nor did he continue the topic of last night’s dinner.
They had literally spoken earlier that morning, but Lu always seemed to want to hear Qiao Jin talk more.
To Qiao Jin, though, all these recent phone calls felt excessive—out of character.
“…I need to get to work,” he said.
Lu heard a door creak open on Qiao Jin’s end, followed by a muffled voice—probably his assistant.
He chuckled.
“Why does it feel like you are busier than me, and you’re just a department manager?”
Qiao Jin’s workload mostly varied with how many documents he had to sign, but he still played along and responded with a faint “Mm.”
“What can I say?”
“I’ll get you another assistant,” Lu said. “Pick someone yourself and just submit the request. Print the form, sign it, and file it.”
“Me sign it?” Qiao Jin asked. “Do I sign ‘Lu Pingzhang’?”
He usually didn’t call Lu by his full name, especially not to his face. Hearing it now—even over the phone—made something in Lu soften. Maybe it was the signal or maybe just the moment, but the sound of his name from Qiao Jin’s lips gave him a warm, tingling feeling.
He chuckled, clearly amused.
“You’ve signed off on contracts worth billions. What’s one more form?”
Just then, the door to the smoking lounge opened. Hou Wude walked in and lit up a cigarette, standing beside him.
“Lu,” Hou Wude narrowed his eyes, glasses gleaming from a fresh polish. “What a coincidence. You’re alone? Where’s your companion?”
Lu Pingzhang’s date didn’t smoke. He still had enough gentlemanly restraint not to bring her into the smoking lounge.
His phone buzzed with a soft tone. Lu glanced at it—Qiao Jin had ended the call.
He stared at the darkened screen for a moment, licked his teeth in thought, then shoved the phone back into his pocket.
“Bai Yuan’s a big star,” Hou Wude said, eyes fixed on him, gaze blunt and laced with curiosity. “She’s done a few films. Didn’t think that was your type.”
It took Lu Pingzhang a moment to even recall the woman’s name—Bai Yuan.
He turned slightly and exhaled a stream of smoke. Through the haze, he smiled with effortless calm.
“Depends on the person.”
The smoke stung Hou Wude’s eyes, making them squint even more. Whatever schemes he had brewing seemed to leak out from between those narrow slits.
“How about this,” he grinned, “let’s call it even. You beat me out for that old mansion at the auction—so this time, you let me have the girl.”
He gestured toward the door.
“You walk out of here alone today, and tomorrow I’ll break ground on the site.”
Lu kept his gaze fixed out the window, lashes lowered, expression bored and unconcerned.
“What grudge is there between us?”
Hou Wude smoked fast, trying to time it so they finished at the same time.
“No need to hold grudges,” he said smoothly. “We’ve known each other forever.” His own cigarette was nearly down to the filter, just like Lu’s.
“I brought a date today too. Same type as the assistant you brought to the auction. If you’re interested, she’s yours.”
Hou Wude had always been obsessed with getting something—anything—out of Lu Pingzhang. Especially the things Lu didn’t want to part with. The more Lu held on, the more Hou wanted to pry it loose.
“No trade,” Lu said with amusement as he watched Hou pressing the issue. “I’ve got a bit of a cleanliness thing—don’t like using what someone else already has.”
Hou Wude frowned. He bought the lie—that Lu Pingzhang had picked this girl carefully, and that’s why he wasn’t letting go or showing any courtesy.
He laughed a few times, forced and humorless, not quite ready to blow up.
“Think about it. It’s just a date, after all.”
Lu exhaled his final puff of smoke, stubbed the cigarette into the ashtray, and turned to leave.
Hou Wude stared at his back as he walked out, then mashed his own cigarette butt viciously into the remains of Lu’s—like he was marking territory. He gave a cold, predatory chuckle.
Outside the lounge, Secretary Yin was waiting. Lu passed him the phone.
Lu said calmly,
“If Qiao Jin calls, put it through immediately. Anyone else—tell them I’m busy.”
Secretary Yin followed him toward the banquet hall, his tone as polished and unsurprised as marble:
“Understood.”
Inside the banquet hall, Secretary Yin gave Lu Pingzhang some space, following at a respectful distance while keeping a close eye on his movements. Bai Yuan glided over, gracefully linked her arm through his, and teased with a soft laugh, “You were gone so long.”
Lu Pingzhang didn’t respond to the flirtation—not even a flicker of acknowledgment in his gaze.
Guests flocked over to toast him, and only after that wave cleared did Zheng Rongguang manage to squeeze in close, lowering his voice:
“Lu-ge, I have no idea where Hou Wude slithered off to, but just now he was tailing Miss Bai the whole time. She’s really the belle of the ball tonight.”
The main reason Lu had brought Bai Yuan tonight was simple: he couldn’t stand Hou Wude. He didn’t want that fly-like man leering at Qiao Jin all evening.
The secondary reason was business—his contract stated he needed to help promote a new company’s rising star.
Bai Yuan offered polite, confident nods to those around her, poised and radiant.
“Watch,” Lu said, glancing toward the entrance. Sure enough, Hou Wude was loitering by the door, scanning the crowd.
Bai Yuan had no idea she’d become the evening’s contested prize. Dressed in a flowing red gown and fire-red lipstick, she was like a rose in full bloom, strolling to a nearby table to pick up a glass of wine.
Hou Wude locked on and made his move, striding directly over and stopping beside her with a smile.
“Miss Bai, perhaps I wasn’t clear earlier.”
Bai Yuan held her wine glass, the reflection of her immaculate eye makeup shimmering on the surface.
“No matter what Lu offered you,” Hou Wude said, gently clinking his glass with hers and leaning in, “I’ll double it. And I guarantee, in bed, I’m a lot more… appreciative of a beautiful woman.”
Bai Yuan didn’t flinch. She’d seen her fair share of suitors and the backstabbing world of fame.
“Thank you, Mr. Hou. That’s very generous of you, but I do have one concern.” She kept a courteous smile on her lips.
“If I were to turn on Mr. Lu tonight, how can you be sure he wouldn’t blacklist me? As a professional date, I do have some basic ethics to uphold.”
Hou Wude chuckled knowingly and slipped a business card into her hand.
“Call me after the banquet. Room number’s on the back. I promise—he’ll never know.”
“Are you doing this because you like me? Pursuing me?” Bai Yuan asked, tilting her head slightly. “Because if that’s the case, perhaps you should be a bit more respectful.”
“Of course not,” Hou Wude said, looking at her like she’d just told a joke.
“I just want to sleep with someone Lu Pingzhang’s touched.”
“Jesus. He’s really trying to steal your girl right in the open,” Zheng Rongguang muttered as he walked over, gripping his wine glass tightly. “Why doesn’t Miss Bai just throw her drink in his face?”
Lu Pingzhang saw it all, but couldn’t be bothered.
“Watch less TV dramas,” he said. The venue was crowded and noisy. He’d had a bit to drink and was thinking about stepping outside for another cigarette.
“I’ve got something for you to handle. Listen carefully.”
Zheng Rongguang perked up, thinking Lu was finally ready to deal with Hou Wude, and leaned in eagerly.
But Lu said, “You were the one who told Qiao Jin about Lu Boyang, weren’t you?”
Zheng Rongguang was caught off guard. He blinked, then nodded.
“If you keep running your mouth,” Lu said, his smile calm and unreadable, “I’ll tear out your tongue.”
Zheng Rongguang shut up instantly. After a long pause, he tried to justify himself:
“…It’s not that big a deal, right? Qiao Jin finding out doesn’t really change anything. We all have younger brothers, don’t we?”
Lu’s smile deepened, and he just stared at him.
It took less than three seconds for Zheng Rongguang to cave.
“Alright, alright—promise I won’t say another word from now on.”
Bai Yuan returned with her wine glass in hand—Hou Wude’s business card nowhere to be seen.
Hou Wude followed right behind her, raising his glass toward Lu Pingzhang in a semi-friendly toast.
“Quite the crowd tonight, huh? Hopefully we can turn this into an annual networking event.”
Lu Pingzhang replied with a platitude no one believed for a second:
“That would be ideal.”
A photographer who had been waiting for just such a moment captured the exchange—an image that would explode across the internet by nightfall.
By the next morning, New Daily had already updated its front page with a far juicier headline: the actress surnamed Bai, seen at the banquet alongside Lu Pingzhang, had later been photographed entering a hotel with Hou Wude.
Speculation erupted instantly. The prevailing theory?
Lu Pingzhang had been cheated on—by his sworn enemy.
And not just betrayed, but betrayed cleanly, publicly, and with lightning speed.
Lu Pingzhang stared at the breaking headline on his screen. His expression barely shifted. But what he said was another matter:
“Find someone to tail Hou Wude. The moment he steps out—run him over.”
“Please… please remain calm,” Secretary Yin said nervously, standing by his side. “If Hou Wude ends up dead, the cuffs will be on you before the body hits the ground.”
And he wasn’t wrong. Their feud ran deep.
Years ago, when Lu Pingzhang’s family was involved in a car crash, the first suspect had been Hou Wude. But at the time, Hou had been at a club with a handful of male escorts. When the police came knocking the next morning, he was so hungover he couldn’t stand straight—which, ironically, helped him clear his name.
Lu Pingzhang’s phone rang.
Yin glanced at the screen and passed it to him.
“Qiao Jin”—those two characters lit up the display.
Lu leaned back against the sofa, visibly relaxing, and answered:
“You calling for me?”
“Are you busy?” Qiao Jin asked from the other end.
In his personal logic, Lu answering the phone himself meant “not busy.” If Secretary Yin picked up, it meant “he’s busy.” A private rule Qiao Jin had made up—and one Lu never bothered to correct.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Qiao Jin said quickly. “Will you be home tonight?”
It was still early in the day. Lu wasn’t sure yet if he had dinner plans and silently glanced at Yin.
Yin immediately nodded and mouthed a name.
“I’ll head home after dinner,” Lu said, then asked in return, “You got plans tonight?”
“Nope,” Qiao Jin replied more slowly this time. “Then I’ll just eat at the office.”
Lu could hear his breathing soften over the line, and without thinking, he added,
“If you’ve got nothing going on, just head home early. It’s year-end traffic—don’t be wandering around.”
Qiao Jin gave a soft “Mm.”
He didn’t hang up right away, lingering on the call just long enough that Lu Pingzhang glanced toward his desk calendar, thinking maybe he’d forgotten something.
Qiao Jin’s birthday was next week. Lu Pingzhang breathed a quiet sigh of relief.
“What do you want for your birthday?” he asked with a faint smile.
Qiao Jin went quiet for a beat, then replied in that unhurried, deliberate tone of his,
“Just have dinner with me.”
That hardly sounded like a birthday gift. Lu Pingzhang, still feeling guilty for missing dinner with him a few nights ago, figured he could make it up to him.
“Dinner we can do anytime. If you think of something you want, just tell me—I’ll make it happen.”
Qiao Jin actually laughed a little at that. The soft breath of it slipped through the receiver, sending that familiar, tingling sensation crawling back over Lu Pingzhang’s skin—just like yesterday morning in the smoking room.
“Say my name,” Lu Pingzhang murmured.
Qiao Jin hesitated—then obeyed. “President Lu.”
“Not that,” Lu Pingzhang said, brushing off an incoming call without even glancing at the screen. “Try again.”
“…Mr. Lu.”
It wasn’t enough. That itch in his chest wouldn’t go away. And by now, he wasn’t even trying to suppress it.
Staring out the window at the brilliant blue sky, he let the feeling rise, then turned away from it as if it meant nothing.
“Say my name,” he said again—this time softer.
Qiao Jin must’ve heard the way his throat tightened when he spoke, because there was a longer silence this time.
“…Lu Pingzhang.”
Something stirred deep in his chest, leaving his fingertips numb as he held the phone. No headline on his screen, no meeting note in Secretary Yin’s neatly organized notebook could pull his mind back.
All he wanted was to see him—right now.
