“Meng Chu.”
“Meng Chu.”
The person who had been quietly reclining on the hospital bed with her eyes slightly closed suddenly snapped them open at the sound of the soft calls, staring fixedly at the nurse holding the saline bag beside the bed.
Those strikingly clear, dark eyes showed no trace of drowsiness from being abruptly awakened from sleep.
Instead, it was as if she had been startled out of a nightmare.
The sight actually startled the nurse standing by the bed.
Quickly, the nurse apologized, “This bag is empty. We need to replace it.”
Meng Chu blinked slowly, her consciousness gradually clearing as she glanced around, finally remembering she was in the hospital.
Today was Wednesday-she should have been at work.
But after waking up in the morning, she had felt a dull ache in her abdomen.
She hadn’t thought much of it.
After washing up, she skipped breakfast and called a ride to the office as usual.
However, once in the car, stuck in Shanghai’s notoriously long and congested morning traffic, the pain in her abdomen grew increasingly intense, her face turning paler by the minute.
Meng Chu had intended to tough it out until she reached the office.
But the driver, noticing her condition through the rearview mirror, acted swiftly.
Whether out of fear she might actually die in his car or simply because he was a kind-hearted person, he didn’t hesitate to drive her straight to the hospital.
“Meng Chu, right?” the nurse asked again.
Before administering the IV, nurses always double-checked the patient’s name-hence why she had insisted on waking Meng Chu.
Meng Chu nodded. “Yes.”
The nurse deftly replaced the IV bag before hesitantly asking, “Did you come here alone?”
Meng Chu replied flatly, “Yes, alone.”
Just as the nurse was about to say something else, Meng Chu’s phone rang from her pocket.
She answered it to hear an anxious voice on the other end: “Director Meng, when are you coming to the office?”
“What’s wrong?” Meng Chu responded calmly.
The call was from her assistant, Jiang Xinya.
Jiang Xinya said, “Director Gu changed his flight-he’s returning to the office today. His assistant just informed me that he wants to review the exhibition proposal for the Smart Robotics Industry Ecosystem Conference on the 18th…”
Her voice grew quieter as she continued, “That proposal… you haven’t finalized it yet, have you?”
She spoke cautiously, careful not to sound like she was criticizing her superior.
Meng Chu raised a hand to rub her forehead, startling the nurse who was still nearby.
“Be careful with your hand,” the nurse whispered in warning.
Only then did Meng Chu remember she was still on an IV.
She lowered her hand, but the previously clear and transparent tubing at the end of the IV now showed a faint trace of red.
Blood was flowing back.
“Don’t worry, I’ll submit it to Director Gu as soon as possible,” Meng Chu said.
The nurse, who had been waiting, was eventually called away by another patient as Meng Chu’s call dragged on.
She had intended to rest her eyes, but though the pain in her abdomen had lessened, it was still noticeable.
Unable to sleep, Meng Chu finally reached for her laptop from her bag.
Fortunately, she always carried it with her.
She pulled up the exhibition proposal for the industry conference and began reviewing it line by line.
Until two startled voices cried out-
“Blood! Blood!”
Meng Chu, who had been immersed in her work, caught a glimpse of her hand out of the corner of her eye and realized with a start that the IV tube connected to it had not only backflowed with blood again, but the blood had climbed alarmingly high up the tube.
The sight was jarring.
It turned out an elderly couple in the neighboring bed had noticed the state of her IV and kindly pointed it out.
Just then, a nurse walked over. Seeing the blood in the tube, she quickly said, “Put your hand down first.”
After carefully examining Meng Chu’s hand, the nurse added, “No work is more important than your health. And since you’re here alone with no one to keep an eye on you, you need to be extra careful to avoid backflow.”
“Sorry,” Meng Chu replied softly.
The nurse looked down at the strikingly beautiful face before her and couldn’t bring herself to scold her further. Instead, she suggested, “Maybe you should call a friend to come stay with you?”
Meng Chu shook her head lightly.
“No need. I’ll be fine on my own.”
The auntie in the neighboring bed, who had been listening, couldn’t help sighing.
“Ah, young people these days—always buried in work, never dating or settling down. Even coming to the hospital alone, how pitiful.”
“Enough, young folks don’t like hearing this. Mind your own blood pressure,” the uncle beside her chided.
The auntie huffed, “I’m not talking about this young lady—I’m talking about your son! If he keeps this up, no one will even visit him when he’s old and in a nursing home!”
Meng Chu lowered her gaze to her screen, the auntie’s vivid descriptions of her “unfilial” 35-year-old unmarried son ringing in her ears— how he had no one to accompany him when sick, how he’d be abandoned in a nursing home in his old age.
She listened for a while but resisted the urge to comfort the auntie.
Because what she wanted to say was: Even if you get married, there’s no guarantee someone will accompany you to the hospital when you’re sick.
She was afraid the auntie’s blood pressure would spike even higher if she heard that!
*
“Director Meng.”
The receptionist, who had been scrolling through videos, looked up at the sound of the door and quickly greeted her.
Meng Chu nodded and headed straight for her office.
It was already 1 p.m. when she arrived at the company.
Lunch break was in full swing, so the office was sparsely populated.
Those who were there were either resting quietly at their desks or occupied with their own tasks.
Meng Chu pushed open her office door, the nameplate on it clearly stating: Operations Director.
After sitting down, she logged into the company’s internal system.
She had sent the exhibition proposal to Gu Ting two hours ago.
But unlike before, when he would rush her for it, he hadn’t even opened it yet.
Naturally, there was no feedback.
Four years ago, Meng Chu-then a soon-to-be graduate student at Shanghai J University-co-founded Xingyuan Tech with Gu Ting, whom she had known since their undergraduate days, officially entering the field of intelligent robotics.
Having competed together in various competitions during university, starting a business together felt like the natural next step.
Though Xingyuan Tech was founded by a group of freshly graduated students, the technical prowess of its founding team quickly caught the market’s attention, securing them Series A funding early on.
From a team of just a few people, the company had now grown to nearly a hundred employees.
As one of the founding members, Meng Chu’s status in the company had risen accordingly.
But at some point, her role had shifted from technical work to operations.
She handled all of Xingyuan’s miscellaneous affairs, to the point where employees privately called her the “Chief Housekeeper.”
After sitting for a while longer, Meng Chu picked up the mug on the table and headed to the pantry to get some water.
When she left the hospital, the doctor had instructed her to consume only liquids for the next 24 hours.
Just as she reached the pantry door, she heard laughter coming from inside.
When she pushed the door open, she saw several female colleagues gathered around, looking at something.
“What are you all talking about?”
Meng Chu walked over to the water dispenser, poured herself a cup of warm water, and took a sip as she asked.
Xingyuan Technology was a startup with an extremely young founding team and a flat management structure, so the company had little sense of rigid hierarchy.
Hearing Meng Chu’s interest in their topic, the finance girl quickly said, “We’re looking at some great shots Liu Jia took at the summit forum she attended.”
Great shots?
Meng Chu’s curiosity was piqued.
“What kind of great shots? Did some company launch a new product?”
As she spoke, she walked over-and the photo displayed on the phone screen on the table abruptly crashed into her line of sight.
The man in the photo was dressed in an all-black suit, even his shirt and tie were black.
The clean, sharp tailoring emphasized his broad, straight shoulders—the most coveted “right-angle shoulders” of the moment.
Even though the photo captured him sitting on a sofa, his casually crossed legs still appeared exceptionally long.
They say a good physique is a man’s second face.
But in his case, his actual face was clearly the real attraction.
The angle of the candid shot was particularly striking—his slightly tilted face revealed deep-set brows and a high, straight nose, giving his features a strikingly three-dimensional and refined outline.
Yet the faint press of his thin lips lent him an air of icy detachment, as if warning others to keep their distance.
Few men achieved the kind of handsomeness that felt unapproachable.
The man in the photo had effortlessly pulled it off.
Seeing Meng Chu’s gaze fixed on the photo, Liu Jia, who had taken the picture, hurriedly explained, “Director Meng, I was there to work seriously. Snapping this photo was just a coincidence.”
She was terrified Meng Chu might think she had slacked off.
Meng Chu took another sip from her mug and said calmly, “It’s fine. Attending these forums is all about taking plenty of photos anyway.”
“Exactly! Besides, this is Cheng Jinyu we’re talking about. Who could resist taking a picture of him?”
A female colleague sighed admiringly while staring at the photo.
They say the internet never misses a truly handsome man.
The name Cheng Jinyu was no stranger to the investment world.
From the moment he debuted, he had been unstoppable in the capital markets, with not a single failed project under his belt.
From being the youngest director at an international investment bank to founding his own capital firm-
Cheng Jinyu had long become the hottest name in finance circles.
But what truly catapulted him into mainstream fame was a two-year-old video of him leading his team to a conference.
From the moment he stepped out of his car to the way he strode into the venue—
The clip was seized by netizens to mock the over-the-top CEO entrances in TV dramas, racking up millions of likes.
Of course, the post’s harsh comparisons also drew backlash from some fans.
But then, the resourceful internet sleuths dug up everything—his impeccable resume, his aristocratic background.
Young, refined, born into privilege, yet even more outstanding in his own right.
And most importantly-his looks were simply flawless!
For a moment, public interest in him exploded exponentially.
Yet Cheng Jinyu, being inherently low-key, rarely gave interviews and seldom appeared at events unless absolutely necessary.
While many entrepreneurs today actively engage on social media, he remained steadfastly himself.
“Just at this summit forum, his appearance caused absolute chaos. Both men and women were chasing after him for interviews,” said Liu
Jia, who witnessed it firsthand, still shaken.
“I nearly got trampled trying to take this photo.”
Everyone urged Liu Jia to show the photos she had managed to snap.
Until one colleague couldn’t help but muse, “What would it be like to marry a man like Cheng Jinyu?”
Meng Chu, who had been silent until then, thought seriously for a moment.
“Rich and never home-sounds great.”
The colleague who asked burst out laughing.
“You say that like you’re married to him.”
The moment those words left her mouth, the atmosphere in the break room froze.
Realizing her mistake, the colleague paled and quickly apologized, “I’m sorry, Director Meng.”
Caught up in the excitement, she had spoken her mind without thinking.
“Director Meng isn’t wrong, though,” someone else chimed in.
“A rich husband who’s never home sounds perfect. I’d take that.”
“Keep dreaming.”
“Yeah, as if that’d ever happen.”
“But he’s so handsome-I’d want him home.”
Amid the chatter, Meng Chu said nothing more, simply laughing along with the others.
*
It wasn’t until nearly the end of the workday that Gu Ting finally sent back his feedback on the proposal-naturally, full of dissatisfaction.
Meng Chu quietly reviewed his demands and called another meeting to discuss revisions.
By the time the meeting ended and she returned to her office, it was almost 7 p.m.
She reopened her laptop and got back to revising the proposal when her phone on the desk buzzed twice.
A WeChat notification.
Her fingers never stopped typing, but she glanced at the screen-only to freeze at the name displayed.
A second message came through.
Meng Chu stared at the screen, completely forgetting to continue typing.
Finally, she reached for her phone.
Unlocking it, she tapped into WeChat.
Even as she opened the chat and read the messages, she still felt dazed.
Cheng Jinyu: Are you off work yet?
Cheng Jinyu: Are you free to meet tonight?
Her eyes lingered on the name at the top of the chat-Cheng Jinyu.
She couldn’t help but recall the endless discussions about him in the break room earlier.
The irony almost made her laugh.
Yes, who would have guessed?
This was the third month of her marriage to Cheng Jinyu.
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