Chapter 17 Midnight
Qiao Yi's boyfriend really was in a car accident.
A minor rear-end collision. The other party compensated, and the car was towed to the repair shop immediately, and could only be picked up over the weekend.
[Qiao Yi]: My poor car looks so worn out, it breaks my heart, so I've decided to stay with it for three days, just in time for the weekend.
[Qiao Yi]: That's not too much to ask, is it?
[Qiao Yi]: 😛
[Wen Bairan]: Classic you! :muscle:
Wen Bairan was at the dinner table, secretly sneaking a look at her phone under the table and replying.
She thought no one noticed, but just as she was about to put it away, someone called her out.
"Xiao Wen, what are you looking at all by yourself that’s got you so happy?"
The speaker was Zhong Yu.
As soon as she spoke, everyone at the table turned to look, as if only just noticing her presence. "Oh, is this Mr. Song’s new secretary?"
Under everyone’s gaze, Wen Bairan calmly put away her phone and smiled slightly. "Ms. Zhong, do you need a towel? I’ll get one for you."
Before Song Xu arrived, he had instructed her that her tasks for the day were to pay the bill and be the designated driver. Since she didn’t have to drink, Wen Bairan consciously stayed invisible all evening, not speaking, quietly smiling whenever someone glanced her way, dutifully playing the role of a silent decorative fixture.
She rose from her seat. Her light green bodycon skirt tightly outlined her voluptuous curves, her silk blouse tucked into her slender waist. As she walked, her back was straight, her figure graceful, her demeanor dignified.
Who would have thought that someone who looked so delicate on the surface could have such a striking figure?
The eyes of the executives behind her were glued.
"Mr. Song changes secretaries quite frequently."
"Mr. Song always has beauties around him. This one is even prettier than the last."
"How enviable."
Wen Bairan asked the server outside for a hot towel, not missing a single word of the conversation inside.
When she turned back, she glanced toward the head of the table. Song Xu sat there unfazed, eyelids slightly lowered, his expression unreadable.
Beside him was a middle-aged, balding man with a large belly, surnamed Yao, seated to his right, apparently holding a high position. He gave Song Xu a greasy look, saying meaningfully, "Mr. Song, you’re a lucky man."
Song Xu nodded slightly, as if acknowledging the remark, but the smile in his eyes held no warmth. "Mr. Yao, you flatter me."
Zhong Yu, sitting nearby, keenly sensed his displeasure and stepped in to defuse the tension: "Lao Yao, why does that sound so familiar? Zhou, didn’t Lao Yao say the same thing to you last month? By the way, your new assistant’s resume mentioned she used to be a model, how’s she doing now?"
The young man surnamed Zhou picked up the thread: "Hah, so what if she was a model? She’s clueless. I asked her to prepare tea, and she literally brought me two packets of tea leaves and a case of mineral water, then asked me where to get reimbursed. The reports she submitted were a mess; I had to stay up late cleaning up her mess. I really don’t know how her school let her graduate. Ah, this kind of 'blessing' is too much for me, so I sent her packing right away."
Zhong Yu immediately turned to Lao Yao: "Lao Yao, see? Not everyone can handle that kind of 'blessing.'"
Lao Yao chuckled and changed the subject, also complaining about his own intern: "What’s with these new graduates? They have no sense of awareness. Why weren’t we like this when we entered the workforce?"
This topic struck a chord, and the table erupted into discussion, turning into a full-on subordinate complaint session.
Wen Bairan calmly returned to her seat, sensing a heavy gaze from the side in her peripheral vision.
She didn’t respond, quietly sipping her tea.
Zhong Yu took the hot towel from the server, swapped places with two people nearby, and struck up a friendly conversation with her. "Don’t mind them. Men get like this when they’ve had too much to drink."
Wen Bairan thought to herself that the men she knew weren’t like this, but she smiled and raised her teacup. "Thank you, Ms. Zhong, for helping me out."
"Don’t mention it." Zhong Yu waved off the offer of tea, adopting an understanding, sisterly tone. "I’ve been through this too. Don’t even get me started."
She was being polite, and Wen Bairan had no intention of delving deeper into her past, so the conversation ended there.
Zhong Yu showed no sign of leaving.
She asked, "How long have you been working with your Mr. Song?"
Wen Bairan knew she was probing for information but didn’t hide anything, truthfully saying that today was a special case and that Qiao Yi usually accompanied him.
Zhong Yu nodded, as if her doubts were dispelled, but still didn’t leave.
Zhong Yu had met Qiao Yi before and had even shared meals with her—just an ordinary secretary. But Wen Bairan gave her a different vibe.
They had run into each other at the entrance earlier. Wen Bairan had gotten out of Song Xu’s car, from the passenger seat. Song Xu hadn’t opened the door for her, but after getting out, he handed her the car keys. Wen Bairan didn’t even ask; she directly put them in her bag.
The whole process happened naturally, without any unnecessary eye contact between them.
Zhong Yu knew Song Xu—he was cold by nature, and Wen Bairan didn’t seem warm either.
Throughout the evening, they sat at opposite ends of the table. Wen Bairan hadn’t said a word, but Zhong Yu just felt something was off.
She was too calm. Is this how a subordinate should act toward their superior?
Zhong Yu brought up her phone usage again. "It’s getting late. Is your boyfriend urging you to go home?"
She glanced meaningfully at Wen Bairan’s bag. Wen Bairan didn’t respond immediately.
Zhong Yu had had a couple extra drinks tonight. Her face was flushed, her eyes slightly swollen, and she had taken off her glasses and set them aside.
Usually, nearsighted people don’t have great eyesight, but she was different. Across a large round table seating ten, she not only saw Wen Bairan looking at her phone under the table but also knew she was replying to a message.
Impressive.
Seeing her silence, Zhong Yu thought she had guessed right. "You look quite young. Just graduated? Your boyfriend must be from school, right? So enviable. Campus relationships are the purest."
Wen Bairan gave her a strange look but still didn’t speak, merely curling her lips slightly, allowing the misunderstanding to continue.
Zhong Yu then adopted a kindly older-sister demeanor. "Ah, your Mr. Song is such a taskmaster, keeping you here so late, interfering with your personal life."
She seemed to be speaking up for Wen Bairan, but her eyes were fixed on the car keys in her bag, her mind wandering off.
Wen Bairan would have been happy to oblige her, but the heavy gaze from above felt like it was about to snap her neck.
She didn’t need to look up to know it was Song Xu.
She still remembered his mischievous antics from the breakroom at noon.
Who knows what tricks he’d pull at work tomorrow if she handed over the keys now?
Better not.
The dinner was winding down.
Old Yao was completely wasted, his speech slurred. He was helped out twice to vomit, and when he returned, he tripped and fell. No one saw exactly how it happened—the chair was right there, yet he ended up landing hard on the floor with a loud thud, making everyone think there'd been an earthquake.
Zhong Yu spent the latter half of the evening sitting close to Wen Bairan, as if trying to prevent any sneaky communication between her and Song Xu. Half the night passed without any suspicious signs, so she let her guard down. When she heard the commotion caused by Old Yao, she immediately stood up to check out the commotion.
“Is he okay? Does he need to go to the hospital? I told all of you to drink less.”
The round table was large, with plenty of elbow room. Even when she stood up, she didn’t block Song Xu’s line of sight.
The chaos around him seemed to belong to another world. Leaning back calmly in his chair, he was staring right this way.
Wen Bairan knew something about Song Xu's drinking capacity. His face was flushed, his expression cold, and his gaze sharp. He appeared wasted but was probably only halfway gone. His cold stare fixed on her face, unwavering, as if warning her: Don't you dare make a move.
Wen Bairan puckered her lips. She hadn’t planned to, but Zhong Yu had been buzzing in her ear forever, going on about their overseas study days, basically tattooing the words "Song Xu is mine" on her forehead. She had heard enough.
It was getting late, and the party should've broken up. Let whoever started this mess clean it up.
Ignoring his gaze, she quietly dug the car keys out of her bag, placed them on Zhong Yu’s plate, nudged her elbow, and whispered something to her. Zhong Yu’s eyes gleamed, and she glanced toward Song Xu.
He was facing them, his gaze dark and intimidating from the alcohol.
Wen Bairan saw it too. Her lashes fluttered helplessly, and she fearfully hid behind Zhong Yu.
Song Xu noticed.
His eyebrow arched.
Hah.
Zhong Yu, totally taken in by Wen Bairan, protectively stood with her hands on her hips, shielding her like a big sister. She threw a pretend dirty look at Song Xu, then broke into a smile, giving him a look that said 'do me this solid'.
The woman beside her was playing her role to perfection, her mischievous, playful look reminiscent of a mischievous high school girl.
Song Xu’s gaze deepened, his throat going tight.
His expression softened slightly, as though yielding to Zhong Yu.
He nodded. Wen Bairan’s face lit up. She thanked Zhong Yu, grabbed her bag, and left.
Just then, Old Yao was finally helped up from the floor, still slurring that he wanted to keep drinking.
Song Xu watched without reaction as the private room door opened and closed, a hint of something flashing in his deep-set eyes.
1 a.m.
The front desk of the W Hotel still had foreign guests checking in. In the elevator lobby, two scenic elevators stopped simultaneously on the first floor.
A group of foreigners boarded one elevator, their strong perfume trapped in the confined space, becoming kind of suffocating.
Shenjiang's night view was stunning. The bustling city of the day now quietly exuded the unique charm of the night.
Tourists pulled out their phones, oohing and aahing at the view outside the window.
/
In the other elevator stood a lone man with sharp, handsome features, his indifferent eyes looking down on the dark river below.
From such heights, everything seemed to kneel before him.
The waves smashed the moonlight to pieces.
The chill kept rising, drowning out the warmth of the lively atmosphere.
36th floor.
The executive suite was dark, the dim room carrying a faint, subtle scent.
Wen Bairan sat on the floor, her long legs drawn up lazily, knees pressed to her chest, her beautiful back curved gracefully.
The pale moonlight streamed through the window, pooling in her eyes.
Behind her, the man’s footsteps were almost noiseless on the thick carpet.
“You’re back quite early.”
She laughed softly without turning around.
“Did Director Zhong not put you through the wringer?”
The tail end of her words was abruptly cut off as raw masculine intensity exploded behind her.
“Mmm…”
Her face was roughly turned to the side.
The tender skin of her ear burned.
She murmured a plea, her words slurred,
“Be gentle…”
Song Xu didn’t seem to hear.
The cold draft couldn't put out the fire in his narrowed eyes.
He gritted his teeth, sucking her skin so hard he nearly drew blood. “You’ve got some nerve.”