As she slurped her yellow croaker noodles, Zhong Yi debated whether to visit her grandfather that evening.
The old man had already hinted two or three times that it had been a while since he’d seen her.
But honestly, she could count on one hand the number of times she’d visited his place since she was a kid.
Lost in thought, she didn’t notice the tiny fishbone until it lodged itself in her throat.
She immediately picked at the noodles, trying to swallow it down, but the more she tried, the deeper it seemed to dig.
Around her, coworkers were busy dishing out lunchtime gossip, too caught up in their own chatter to notice anything was wrong.
Zhong Yi didn’t make a fuss. She calmly finished her noodles, grabbed her phone, and quietly left the cafeteria.
She’d never realized before just how huge the Jinghe Group’s cafeteria was—felt like it took half a day just to walk out.
Every time she swallowed, a sharp pain shot through her throat. She remembered a few years back when a similar incident had landed her in the ER.
She’d brushed it off as a minor scratch from a fishbone—until several days passed and it only got worse. Ended up suffering way longer than she should’ve.
This time, she wasn’t going to risk it. Back in the office, she grabbed her car keys.
A colleague called out, “Hey, there’s a meeting at two!”
Zhong Yi nodded.
“Got it.”
There was a hospital nearby. She’d be back before two.
She registered for emergency care. The entire process of removing the fishbone took less than thirty seconds.
Zhong Yi had always loved fish—boneless or not. She ate it all the time. With that kind of frequency, getting the occasional bone stuck was inevitable.
At most, she’d have a couple days of mild trauma. After that, it was back to business as usual.
A few bones were never enough to stop her from eating what she liked.
As she stepped out of the hospital, her phone rang. It was Ning Que—her boss.
“Where are you? The project needs a quick sync.”
Zhong Yi didn’t tell him she’d just had a fishbone removed. If she did, he’d definitely respond with something like, Check the almanac before ordering fish noodles next time.
“Out for a stroll,” she replied lightly.
“Just following your example—walk a hundred steps after every meal and you’ll live to ninety-nine.”
Ning Que: …
Right. No use arguing.
His throat was feeling sore, so he didn’t chat long before hanging up.
Back at the office, someone told her the meeting had been pushed to three.
“How come?” she asked.
“Director Ning went to the hospital—got a fishbone stuck too.”
“Had steamed fish for lunch. Thought it just scratched his throat, didn’t think much of it. Took a nap and woke up barely able to speak, so he rushed to the hospital.”
Two people from the same team ending up at the hospital because of fishbones on the same day?
What were the odds?
At exactly three, Zhong Yi stepped into the meeting room through the back door, holding a red bean latte.
She was the last to arrive and took the nearest seat at the end of the table.
Ning Que glanced at her—coffee, phone, nothing else. In the whole room, she was the most laid-back.
Didn’t look like she was here for a meeting at all. More like a manager checking in on her subordinates’ progress.
Funny, since technically he was the boss and she the subordinate.
Once everyone settled, the meeting began.
“This morning, we finalized the partnership with Kunchen Motors,” Ning Que announced, eyes subtly landing on Zhong Yi.
Sure enough, at the words Kunchen Motors, she abruptly looked up at him.
Until then, she’d been calmly sipping her latte, barely looking up from her cup.
Realizing how obvious her reaction was, Zhong Yi quickly averted her gaze and took another casual sip, as if nothing had happened.
Only the two of them noticed the moment.
Ning Que continued, “In this collaboration, Kunchen wants to reduce the energy consumption for training their autonomous driving models by 50%.”
“Didn’t Chairman Zhou put together his own large model team?” someone chimed in.
“He did,” Ning Que replied.
“But they hit a technical bottleneck—haven’t made progress in over six months. That’s why they reached out to us.”
Chairman Zhou was the founder of Kunchen Group.
Now in his late fifties, he had, over the past two years, gradually handed over the company’s automotive, finance, and semiconductor divisions to the younger generation.
Rumor had it the automotive branch would go to Zhou Shiyi.
The reason Zhong Yi had reacted so strongly earlier was because of this fourth son of the Zhou family.
She had once dated him—for several years.
The meeting went on for about half an hour.
“That’s all for today,” Ning Que said, closing his laptop.
Everyone began to file out, but Zhong Yi stayed in her seat, unchanged.
Just as Ning Que picked up his laptop to leave, he glanced her way. She was watching him too.
Clearly, she had something to say.
He sat back down, rested an arm on the chair.
“Go ahead.”
Zhong Yi got straight to the point.
“I’m planning to take a three-month break.”
He blinked.
“How long?”
“Three months.”
“Zhong Yi, did you spike your coffee with whiskey?”
She said nothing—just stared at him in silence.
Ning Que took a breath.
“If you’re gone for three months, who’s going to handle the work? Who’s going to lead the project?”
Zhong Yi, who had been lounging comfortably, slowly sat up straighter and looked him in the eye.
“I haven’t taken a single day off in three years.”
With that, she stood up.
Now it was Ning Que’s turn to fall silent.
He grabbed his water bottle, raised it to his lips—then put it back down without drinking.
Some topics were too delicate to avoid.
“Are you taking this break just to avoid Zhou Shiyi?” If so, she wouldn’t have to work on the Kunchen project.
Before Zhong Yi could answer, he added, “If that’s the reason, don’t worry. Despite what the rumors say, Zhou Shiyi hasn’t actually taken over Kunchen Motors.”
Zhong Yi’s tone was calm.
“It’s got nothing to do with anyone. I’m just tired and want a break.”
She lowered her gaze to fix the cuff of her white shirt. At some point, the rolled-up sleeve had slipped down and become wrinkled.
So she slowly rolled it back up—twice—her fingers pausing midway as if something had crossed her mind.
Ning Que sighed.
She picked up her coffee and phone.
He glanced at the two things in her hand. That’s all she ever brought to meetings. Others at least pretended to jot down notes—she didn’t even bother.
With her photographic memory, she didn’t need to.
So in every meeting, she looked like the boss, and he—like the employee.
As she reached the door, she asked, “Do you not have the authority to approve my leave? Should I just ask the CEO directly?”
Ning Que shot her down.
“It’s not about authority. What CEO is going to give someone three months off?”
Zhong Yi was a core member of Jinghe Group’s large model team, personally headhunted from overseas by the CEO to lead their multimodal fusion algorithm work.
The CEO did favor her—but three months off? That was pushing it.
Ning Que sighed again.
“Forget it. Don’t ask him. I’ll handle it.”
“Thanks. I’ll buy you dinner when I’m back.”
She turned toward the door, casually pulling off her employee badge from around her neck.
“Wait a sec,” Ning Que suddenly called out.
She paused mid-step, one foot already outside the door.
The windows in the meeting room were open. A breeze swept in, lifting the black-and-white scarf at her collar.
She wore a crisp white shirt with a classic patterned scarf. Earlier, when her sleeves were casually rolled, she’d looked sharp—maybe too sharp.
But now, with her sleeves neatly rolled twice, her cool air carried a touch of elegance.
Somehow, her sharpness felt more refined.
Ning Que leaned forward.
“Think of this as me sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong…”
He hesitated before continuing, “Zhong Yi, if you haven’t let go of Zhou Shiyi yet, go fight for it. There’s nothing wrong with that. You’re already incredible—everyone in the industry knows your skills.”
“A strong person lowering their head now and then isn’t shameful. Take me, for example—I’m your boss, but don’t I lower my head to you all the time? In the end, everyone’s happy. What’s so bad about that?”
Zhong Yi smiled faintly but didn’t respond.
Ning Que hadn’t brought up such a sensitive topic to dig at her wounds. Earlier that day, over lunch with the CEO, they’d chatted about the Kunchen Motors project—which inevitably led to Zhou Shiyi.
What he heard then gave him pause.
“You’ve met our company’s other major shareholder, right?” Ning Que began, setting the stage.
Zhong Yi nodded.
Truth be told, Ning Que didn’t know that shareholder very well either.
Jinghe Group had two major individual shareholders: the CEO, and the CEO’s third uncle—Jiang Jingyuan.
The latter had always kept a low profile, rarely involving himself in the company’s operations. In all of Ning Que’s seven years at Jinghe, he’d only met Jiang Jingyuan twice.
But outside the company, Jiang Jingyuan was a legend. A dominant force in the upper echelons of business and power circles. In his forties or fifties, still unmarried.
His strategic mind and business acumen were practically mythical. And in matters of the heart? Equally so.
Rumor had it, back in the day, his family opposed his relationship with his first love and tried to force a political marriage instead.
They arranged an engagement. Jiang Jingyuan rebelled. On the day of the engagement banquet, he never showed up.
The scandal rocked their social circle. His father, already in poor health, was so enraged he collapsed and had to be hospitalized.
He nearly didn’t survive after open-heart surgery, receiving two critical notices during recovery.
And after all that drama? Jiang Jingyuan and his first love still didn’t end up together.
Eventually, he founded the Tongxin Charity Foundation, dedicated to helping children with congenital heart defects. They said it was his way of doing penance, of building karma for his father.
Years passed. Though the elder Jiang was no longer the iron-fisted patriarch he once was—had even taken the initiative to mend ties—Jiang Jingyuan remained unmoved.
Their relationship never truly healed.
He never married.
And people described him in one sentence: strong and deeply sentimental.
He had no wife, no children.
His only passion over the years had been investing. His private equity firm, Tongxin Capital, had funded nearly a hundred startups—many of which had become industry giants.
Despite his accomplishments, he stayed out of the spotlight. He never gave interviews. Any event that required a public face, he sent his nephews or relatives.
Maybe it was his youthful spirit—or simply personal charisma—but young elites in the circle adored him. They didn’t even call him Third Uncle anymore. They jokingly called him Third Bro.
And when Third Bro spoke, no one said no.
Zhou Shiyi was one of those young men.
Ning Que cut to the point.
“At lunch, the CEO mentioned Zhou Shiyi. You know how he is—he’d never say something unless it was true.”
Zhong Yi didn’t interrupt, only gave him a glance to signal him to go on.
“Apparently, Jiang Jingyuan noticed Zhou Shiyi’s never had a girlfriend, so he introduced someone to him—daughter of a family friend. Word is, Zhou didn’t say no.”
Ning Que paused, then added, “In families like theirs, once a marriage is proposed, it happens fast. If you keep hesitating… you might not get another chance.”
The meeting room fell into silence.
Only the wind could be heard rushing through the open windows.
Zhong Yi’s scarf lifted, fell, then rose again—fluttering up and down like the storm in her chest.
He was getting married?
She thought she’d grown immune to hearing things about him. Thought she could stay unaffected.
But now…
Ning Que watched the faint daze flicker across her face and quietly took a sip of tea.
He hadn’t meant to get a fishbone stuck earlier.
But the moment the CEO said Zhou Shiyi hadn’t rejected the match, Ning Que had been so shocked he’d spaced out and swallowed a mouthful of fish—bones and all.
That’s how he ended up in the ER.
Zhong Yi glanced out the window, eyes distant. Then turned back to him.
“Thanks.”
Nothing more.
She gave her phone a shake.
“I’ll email you the leave request.”
Now, only Ning Que remained in the meeting room.
He sighed again, shrugged, and walked out with his laptop.
He wasn’t sure if he’d overstepped—bringing up her personal life like that.
But he’d been there when they were together. The second year of their relationship, he’d returned to China.
He didn’t know what had gone down between them, only that their breakup had been clean. Brutally so.
He and Zhou Shiyi had never crossed paths again. But he ended up working with Zhong Yi.
Back at his desk, a new email pinged into his inbox. From Zhong Yi.
He opened it.
The subject: Leave Request.
The body:
“Reason for leave: I need more time to think.”
***
It wasn’t even 5 PM yet when Zhong Yi left the office.
Driving out from Jinghe Tower’s underground garage, she stared through the windshield for a few seconds.
Then, instead of turning right to go home, she turned left—merging into the evening traffic.
She’d never been to Tongxin Capital before. She pulled up the GPS.
Rush hour was in full swing, but her mind was elsewhere. She barely noticed the congestion.
Halfway there, her phone rang.
It was Ning Que.
“The CEO approved your three-month leave.”
“Thanks.”
“Enjoy your break. I hope everything goes well.”
He didn’t know why he added that last part. It wasn’t like she’d actually reach out to Zhou Shiyi—let alone try to get back together.
She’d said she’d treat him to dinner sometime, but hadn’t even handed over any work. Technically, she could still work from home.
This vacation—was just for show.
If she truly took three months off, her father would worry sick. He’d probably stay home every day just to keep an eye on her.
The distance between Jinghe and Tongxin Capital wasn’t far. Even with traffic, she made it in under twenty-five minutes.
At the reception desk, she told the front desk she was here to see Chairman Jiang.
“Do you have an appointment?” the receptionist asked politely, giving Zhong Yi a once-over.
It wasn’t every day someone this striking walked in. Short hair. Stunning presence. The receptionist couldn’t help wondering who she was.
“No appointment,” Zhong Yi replied.
“Just let him know Zhong Yi from Jinghe is here.”
The receptionist’s demeanor changed the moment she heard Jinghe Group.
She called Jiang’s secretary. Didn’t even get to explain before the voice on the other end said, “Let her up.”
As she escorted Zhong Yi to the elevator, the receptionist sneaked another glance at her short hair. It was crisp and cold, yet somehow soft at the edges.
The layers looked casual but were clearly carefully styled.
Short hair like that?
Either you had real skill—or a professional stylist.
Because short hair was the hardest to manage.
The elevator doors opened. Zhong Yi thanked her.
The receptionist smiled.
“My pleasure.”
She watched as Zhong Yi disappeared into the elevator. That face, those eyes, the calm edge to her aura—hard to look away.
Zhong Yi reached the executive floor. Jiang’s secretary was briefing assistants.
She greeted the composed, sharp-looking middle-aged man politely.
“Is Chairman Jiang busy?”
He checked the time.
“He’s in a meeting. Should be wrapping up soon. You can wait in his office.”
He escorted her there.
Once alone, Zhong Yi looked around.
Cool tones. Clean lines. Understated luxury.
She walked toward the couch, just about to sit—when the door opened from the outside.
She turned around.
Jiang Jingyuan walked in, calm and unhurried.
“I was in a meeting. Had my phone on silent. Just saw your call.” He shrugged off his suit jacket and slung it over a chair before walking to the tea cabinet.
“What would you like to drink—coffee or black tea? Your dad’s making it for you.”
“It’s not like I have to talk to her,” Ning Que said nonchalantly.
“I’m just going back for a meeting. If I run into her, I’ll say hi.”
But what if she speaks to you?
What if she still likes you?
What if she wants to start over?
The system wanted to ask, but didn’t dare. After all, it knew this man too well. He wouldn’t start over with someone just because of a few words.
His past, his principles, his boundaries—none of those changed that easily.
Instead, the system changed the subject.
“What should we do about the Jiang City branch office?”
Ning Que:
“Leave it for now.”
System:
“You’re really not going to transfer her away?”
“No need.” Ning Que closed his laptop and gave a tired smile.
“She’s been good to me. I won’t make things hard for her.”