The lobby on the first floor of Kunchen Tower bustled with people, everyone busy with their own affairs.
At first, no one noticed the presence of the boss—until the receptionist’s gaze happened to sweep past Zhou Shiyi’s profile a second time.
She froze.
Wasn’t that the boss?
Normally, upper management used the private elevator straight from the underground garage. Unless there was a special event, they almost never came through the main lobby.
The receptionist quickly scanned the area—no sign of Special Assistant Zhan Liang, nor any company executives. Only a single personal bodyguard accompanied him.
She didn’t have time to think. Composing herself, she quickly walked over.
“President Zhou, the private elevator is this way.”
Zhou Shiyi gave a faint nod and followed her to the elevator hall.
It was only then that a few employees recognized the newly appointed CEO. A few bold ones even stepped forward to greet him.
The once-orderly lobby suddenly turned lively, and visitors in the lounge got up to see what was happening.
The private elevator arrived from the underground garage and stopped at the first floor.
As the doors opened, the silhouette of his cousin, Zhou Sujin, appeared.
Their eyes met. Both froze in mild surprise.
Zhou Shiyi stepped in, touched the number “40,” then turned to his cousin.
“Weren’t you supposed to return to Jiangcheng this afternoon? Still have time to catch your flight?”
Zhou Sujin had been staying in Beicheng for over half a month. He was originally scheduled to fly home today to be with his wife and daughter.
“Rescheduled,” Zhou Sujin replied.
“Heading back tomorrow. Third Uncle called—said we’re having dinner tonight. You and Zhong Yi are registering your marriage today. Someone from the family ought to be there.”
Zhou Shiyi glanced at him. They were barely a year or two apart, and yet the man dared call himself an elder.
“You really know how to promote yourself.”
“An older brother is like a father,” Zhou Sujin quipped.
“Then I must have a whole bunch of fathers around the world.”
As the elevator neared their floor, Zhou Sujin dropped the banter.
“Why’d you come through the lobby?”
Zhou Shiyi’s gaze settled briefly on the floor display. Then he said quietly, “Zhong Yi’s waiting in the car.”
Zhou Sujin nodded in understanding. Ground-level parking was open and airy, a decent view of the street kept it from being too dull.
In the CEO’s office, Zhan Liang was laying out documents on the desk for signature. When Zhou Shiyi walked in, Zhan congratulated him first and served up a carefully prepared coffee.
Zhou Shiyi loosened a shirt button and sat down.
“Send Zhong Yi a red bean latte—she’s waiting in the car downstairs.”
“Yes, President Zhou.” Zhan Liang immediately arranged it.
As Zhou signed the final document, he lingered on the contract in front of him.
It had already been vetted by multiple departments. His review was just a formality.
Seeing him pause, Zhan asked, “Is there an issue with the endorsement deal?”
“No.” Zhou Shiyi flipped to the last page and signed his name.
“The team from Lu Cheng has cleared time in their schedule for the shoot,” Zhan reported.
Zhou responded with a noncommittal hum.
“There’s also a livestream planned for the endorsement reveal. Do you want to appear on it?” Zhan asked.
“Let President Du handle it,” Zhou said as he closed the folder.
President Du was Kunchen Auto’s executive vice president.
“Understood.”
Just then, Zhan’s phone lit up with a message: the red bean latte had been delivered.
Downstairs, Zhong Yi sat in the car, sipping coffee as she watched the endless stream of traffic outside.
This wasn’t one of Zhou Shiyi’s handcrafted coffees—it lacked that familiar, subtle flavor.
Back when their relationship was at its worst and they’d barely speak to each other, he’d still brew her a cup when he had the time—always with extra sweet red beans.
Her phone rang, pulling her from her thoughts.
It was Professor Yu, calling to congratulate her on registering the marriage.
After the warm wishes, the professor slipped into casual chatter.
“Your dad said you’ve taken three months off work. What are you doing at home all day?”
“Besides three or four hours of remote work a day, nothing much,” Zhong Yi replied.
“Doesn’t that get boring? You’ve never been one to sit still, not even as a kid.”
Trust Professor Yu to understand her best.
Zhong Yi finished the last sip of her coffee and muttered into the phone, “Boring. I’ve been glued to my phone just to kill time.”
Then she admitted, “But I still don’t feel like going back to work.”
Professor Yu laughed—a crisp, amused sound that rang clearly through the line.
“You think you’re alone in that? I’d love to create more, but I can’t even pick up a pen lately.”
He chuckled again, then said, “If you’re bored and don’t want to work, come stay at my place for a few days. I’m planning to hole up and create. No guests, no distractions. You’ll have peace and quiet.”
“I thought you just finished a big piece and were taking time off?”
“That was the plan,” he said bitterly.
“Until your dad told me I’m washed up and will never create something as good as Whimsy again. Infuriating!”
Zhong Yi laughed. She was used to their mutual teasing.
“My dad’s too much. I’ll have a word with him later.”
“Don’t bother. By the time you ‘have a word,’ we’ll all be old.”
Their chat was lighthearted and easy. Before she knew it, half an hour had passed.
At the end, Professor Yu said warmly, “Come stay a few days if you’re bored. Your mentor’s free too.”
Late March in Jiangnan was the loveliest time of year. The weather was just right, and the gentle spring rain made for perfect daydreaming.
Zhong Yi didn’t hesitate.
“I’ll visit in a few days.”
“Call me first. I’ll prepare something good for you.”
After hanging up, she instinctively lifted the empty paper cup to her lips.
She got out to toss the cup and, since it was her first time at Kunchen Tower, wandered the area for a bit.
Entry required keycard access, and registering as a visitor was too much hassle, so she didn’t go in.
Then Zhou Shiyi texted:
[Still need another 30 minutes. Sorry.]
She replied:
[No rush.]
Back in the car, with nothing to do, she leaned back and gazed at the sky through the window.
Her dad said today’s sky was bluer than yesterday’s. She stared at it until her eyelids grew heavy, still unsure what looked “more blue.”
She’d woken up too early that morning. Even a full cup of coffee couldn’t stave off the drowsiness.
Eventually, she drifted off.
Sleeping upright in the car wasn’t restful. She had a dream—disjointed and messy.
One moment, she was a child drawing in Professor Yu’s garden; the next, she was reliving her breakup with Zhou Shiyi.
In the dream, neither of them spoke. They just stood there, locked in silence.
Scenes flashed and skipped. The images wouldn’t align.
Then, suddenly, Zhou turned and walked away.
She knew, in the dream, that this was goodbye. That she’d never see him again. She tried to reach for him—but couldn’t lift her arms.
His car drove off. The courtyard felt painfully empty.
Panicked, Zhong Yi jolted awake.
She turned her head—and there he was, sitting beside her.
At some point, Zhou Shiyi had come down and joined her in the car.
The door was half-open. His right hand rested on the handle.
Still groggy and emotionally raw, Zhong Yi wasn’t sure if she was awake or still dreaming.
Seeing the door ajar, she thought he was leaving. Instinctively, she grabbed his arm.
He paused, turned to look at her for a few seconds, then quietly closed the door.
“Nightmare?”
The question jolted her fully awake. Of course—he’d finished his work and come down.
“Sorry,” she said quickly, releasing his arm. His sleeve was crumpled from her grip.
Was it a nightmare?
In the years since they parted, she’d had her share of bad dreams, but they rarely shook her. Only dreams about him could leave her reeling for days.
So yes, it counted as a nightmare.
She straightened up and reached into the car fridge for a cold bottle of water.
A long silence followed. Then Zhou Shiyi opened their chat and sent her a list of restaurants.
“Pick one.”
She scrolled through while drinking, reading every entry. She hadn’t been to any of them. Eventually, she picked one with a nice-sounding name.
All of the places he’d chosen were known for pan-fried fish.
Still rattled from her dream, Zhong Yi stayed silent.
She finished the water, idly scrolled through her phone, and noticed that Lu Cheng’s endorsement for Kunchen Auto was trending again.
Based on the wording, the deal was clearly finalized and the announcement was being teased.
She exited the page. Zhou had only recently taken office; the contract must’ve been signed by the previous CEO.
On the far side of the seat, Zhou’s gaze remained fixed outside. A luxury watch ad played across a building’s LED screen. Lu Cheng was the global ambassador.
His commercial value was undeniable.
At a red light, the driver glanced into the rearview mirror at the silent pair and quietly sighed.
He honestly couldn’t imagine what their married life would be like.
After circling half the city, they arrived at the restaurant Zhong Yi had picked.
It was a modest, ground-floor place—not the kind Zhou Shiyi usually frequented.
But it was a weekday lunch, and tables were readily available.
A waiter led them to a window seat. The locust trees outside were sprouting soft green buds.
They ordered separately.
Zhong Yi asked for a beef and mushroom tart, the house salad, and added, “Pan-fried sea bass—make that double.”
“Double?” the waiter confirmed.
She nodded. “Yes.”
Zhou Shiyi glanced at her.
“I can finish it,” she said.
“Normally one serving of fish is enough. But sea bass? One’s not enough. You probably don’t remember.”
He didn’t respond.
Zhong Yi closed the menu and let the waiter recommend a soup.
After ordering, silence returned. Only the faint sound of her sipping water remained.
Eventually, the salad arrived. She picked at it without much thought.
Zhou watched her the whole time, wondering what kind of nightmare she’d had.
He took a sip of water—then another—and finally asked, “How have you been these past few years?”
She was lifting a piece of avocado when he spoke. Her hand froze midair.
It was the first question he’d asked that had nothing to do with the marriage.
She chewed slowly.
“I don’t know.”
She truly didn’t. Was it good or bad?
If she said bad, her career was thriving—plenty of people envied her.
If she said good, then why hadn’t she felt real joy since they split?
“If I have to choose,” she added, “then I guess not good. Does that… make you feel better?”
Zhou Shiyi’s voice was low.
“Why would that make me feel better?”
Before she could answer, the food arrived.
“Are you busy this afternoon?” he asked.
Zhong Yi looked at him.
“Not really. Why?”
“If you’re free,” he said, “let’s go buy rings. We can’t be married without rings.”