Chapter 46 Lunch
Wen Bairan didn't remember how she got out of that place.
The mirrored decorations in the hallway created an inescapable dream; the air was filled with the smell of liquor, cigarettes, and perfume. The texture of the man's jacket felt like delicate gold-thread under her touch. She reached for his shoulder, dizzy, and murmured his name. Or maybe nothing came out at all.
The man abruptly seized her arm just as it was about to wrap around his neck. His grip was vise-like, so painful that it nearly woke her up.
"It hurts..." she protested.
She struggled, her neckline slipping down to reveal the black lace underneath.
A thin strap rested on her creamy shoulder, making her collarbone appear even more pronounced.
The pure white and intense black intertwined, blending into a provocative gray area.
As she moved closer and farther, the shadowed contours faintly swayed in her peripheral vision.
His eyebrows furrowed.
Wen Bairan heard an icy, almost inaudible mutter. "Who let her drink like this?"
It was Xiang Sun and Qiao Yi.
It dawned on her that they had been setting her up—no wonder she had ended up drinking the most.
Good thing she'd escaped quickly.
Another voice, nervous, answered for her.
"It was... President Xiang and President Qiao. Uh, they've been waiting for you for a while. Why don't you go in first, and I'll take care of Sister Ran..." The door to the private room closed behind them as Ding Benxuan stepped forward.
"You'll handle her?"
The man's grip on her tightened, and it hurt even more.
Wen Bairan frowned, wanting to ask why he was holding her so tightly, but when she looked up, she couldn't make out his face.
Cigarette smoke hung thick, stubbornly lingering.
She simply reached up and plucked the cigarette from his mouth.
Slurring, "I told you not to smoke..."
Her movement was sudden, and her fingertips nearly brushed against the cherry.
The man jerked his head back to the upper right, and her hand just grazed his chin.
It was kinda harsh.
Ding Benxuan's eyes widened in disbelief—she had just caught his face.
He grew more anxious to get her away from him. "Sister Ran, Sister Ran, let me take you back. Can you let go first? Here, hold onto me. I'll support you."
He reached out to grab her shoulders and waist, but his fingers only brushed against her floating strands of hair.
He stopped dead.
The man yanked her arm, pulling her even closer against him. His long arm wrapped around her waist, pressing against her back.
With his other hand, he put out his cigarette and tossed it into a nearby ashtray.
Then he bent down and swept her up into his arms.
The entire motion took less than a second, as if he had done it countless times before. Wen Bairan naturally lifted her arms to wrap around his neck, snuggled in comfortably against him before settling motionless.
Ding Benxuan stood there, dumbstruck. "..."
They turned to leave.
"Tell them inside that I'm taking her with me."
/
A bitter wind blew outside.
Wen Bairan, without her coat, shivered and burrowed deeper into his embrace.
In her haze, she felt herself being shifted slightly, and the arms holding her tightened. It seemed he had turned to shield her from the wind.
The stinging wind no longer assaulted her directly.
Her cold cheek nestled into the warmth of his neck, and Wen Bairan sighed contentedly, "Song Xu..." before quickly passing out.
When she came to, she was already home.
The familiar two-story house, the off-white sheer curtains in her bedroom that she had just changed a couple of days ago.
The window was closed, but a faint draft from somewhere gently lifted the edge of the curtain.
In the dimness, there seemed to be a faint, shimmering light.
A soft purple glow.
It was the fish tank downstairs.
Her first thought—was she really home?
Her second—why wasn’t she in a hotel?
Wen Bairan sat up and realized she was still wearing the same clothes she had gone out in.
She rubbed her temples, which were still pounding slightly.
Where was Song Xu?
He must have been the one who brought her back.
Most likely.
She could still smell the lingering scent of his cigarettes on her.
Had he left already?
Wen Bairan threw off the covers and got out of bed.
The cold air hit her, and she casually grabbed a thin blanket to wrap around herself.
She headed downstairs.
The lights in the living room were off, and the entire house was pitch dark.
The only light source was the LED lamp on the fish tank.
The man stood before the tank, dressed in a black shirt and dress pants, his shoulder line straight and broad, arms crossed over his chest. His narrow waist was cinched by an H-shaped gunmetal belt, and his legs seemed to stretch on forever.
His slightly lowered face was bathed in the purple glow from the water's surface. Beneath his slender eyes, flickering shadows shifted mysteriously with the flicker of the fish tails and the play of light.
His shadow covered half the white wall behind him.
An intense pressure seemed to multiply, filling the entire first floor.
The person on the stairs was stunned by the play of light and shadow in this scene, instinctively moving more quietly.
"You're awake."
The kitchen window was open, and the wind coming from behind the man carried his scent—and his gaze felt present too.
Aloof.
Cold and unfeeling.
Her feet touched the living room's floor tiles, and a chill rose from her bare feet.
Wen Bairan froze in place.
Suddenly, it felt like she was back at their first meeting.
It was an ordinary workday.
Half an hour before quitting time, her mind had already wandered, only gradually returning in the final five minutes.
The manager clapped his hands in the hallway, calling for everyone’s attention to introduce a new colleague.
He said "colleague," not "supervisor."
Wen Bairan saw the embodiment of the word "elite" for the first time.
Impeccably suited, with a mature slicked-back hair. An indifferent face. A piercing gaze. He stood there as if looking down on everyone from some higher plane. Yet this disparity wasn’t off-putting.
His innate superiority seemed to prove that people were inherently different from the start.
Such a serious man, yet he possessed a voice that was both bleak and strangely tender.
"Hello everyone, I’m Song Xu. I’ll be working with all of you in the future. I look forward to sparking something special together."
With just those two sentences, nearly every woman in the company was already captivated.
Only Wen Bairan got chills.
She had never met someone so icy.
An expressionless detachment, eyes like daggers, like weapons, always aimed at you, yet you could never pinpoint the hand controlling such a lethal weapon.
It was as if he had no soul.
However others praised him later, Wen Bairan could never develop any deep admiration for him.
She only found him terrifying.
Could a person truly exist without weaknesses, without feelings?
It was only during this period, as they engaged in repeated intense physical encounters, that Wen Bairan gradually discovered he wasn’t soulless. He had merely hidden his soul within the hollow depths of his icy exterior.
She had almost reached it.
But now, in this moment, that Song Xu who frightened her had returned.
Soulless, utterly cold.
He was looking at her, yet not quite.
He faced her direction. Moonlight cast a soft gray shadow over his right cheek, while the left was shrouded in the eerie purple glow.
Wen Bairan instinctively hugged her arms tighter, her drunkenness half faded.
"Why are you here?"
She was asking though she knew the answer.
The lingering haze from drinking in her eyes hadn’t fully dissipated before it froze.
Perhaps sensing her discomfort, Song Xu lowered his gaze and said calmly, "You were drunk."
"So you brought me back?"
"Yeah." He looked at the fish.
The two betta fish in the tank had grown a little since last time, their silvery-white tails richer and smoother, moving with the elegance of oil paintings in the ethereal purple light.
Silent as a dream.
He said he should go.
Wen Bairan blurted out, "Wait."
He stopped but remained where he was.
Silent, with his back to her.
Wen Bairan didn’t know why she had stopped him. Pressing her lips together, she searched for something to say. "Did your business trip go well?"
He shot her a sideways glance.
Knowing she’d asked the wrong question, she froze.
He generously gave her two more minutes of silence.
The silence lasted until the very end.
She said, "Sorry."
"Last time, I—"
He interrupted her. "Wen Bairan."
She hesitated. "...Yes?"
Song Xu turned to face her.
His face was unnaturally pale in the darkness of the night, almost cold-blooded. "You don’t need to apologize."
She froze.
"Among the things you said last time, one of them was right."
"You're not the most special one."
He lifted his gaze with cold disdain.
"You can't hurt me."
Song Xu took his coat from the door and took an umbrella on his way out.
"I'll return it next time."
He left.
Wen Bairan sobered up completely.
The mechanical sound of the door automatically locking sounded eerie in the middle of the night.
She stood there for she didn't know how long, until her hands went numb from the cold, then headed to the kitchen to close the window.
It was raining.
The autumn rain fell like silver threads under the glow of the streetlights.
The street below was empty.
She walked out, passing the dining table.
A small Pegasus with red wings had been placed there at some point.
She gazed at it, dazed, hesitating.
Then she went upstairs.
Opened the wardrobe.
The custom-built shelves at the very back were empty.
The day after Zhou Lin’s last visit, she had packed up that silver iridescent dress and sent it to Jinhu Mansion.
She didn’t know if he had thrown it away or given it to someone else.
Exhaustion hit her.
She sat down, bundling herself in a blanket, legs tucked in.
Resting her chin on her knees, she sat facing the wardrobe till dawn.
//
Work on Monday.
Everything was as usual.
Both Song Xu and Xiang Sun attended the morning meeting.
The conference room was cramped, and it felt a bit crowded with so many people.
Wen Bairan arrived late, and the only seat left was next to Song Xu.
She scanned the room—no other empty spots—and walked over.
As she passed Qiao Yi, Qiao Yi shot her a look, signaling for Wen Bairan to share her seat instead.
Something was off with Song Xu today; maybe he’d woken up on the wrong side of the bed.
Though there were no overt signs, she just felt like she had to walk on eggshells today.
Wen Bairan missed her cue and went ahead and took the seat.
Song Xu’s reputation in the company remained as intimidating as ever.
When he stayed silent, no one dared to speak; when he frowned, everyone shrank back. In the company, aside from Xiang Sun, who was his close friend and immune to his temper, only Wen Bairan and Qiao Yi had followed him from their previous company.
They knew his ways and how to survive under his leadership.
Everyone else looked to them to take their cues.
Now, Qiao Yi was on edge, but Wen Bairan remained unflustered.
After she sat down, Song Xu looked at her.
She raised her eyes and met his gaze.
They broke eye contact after half a second.
She calmly opened her notebook, ready for the meeting to start at any moment.
Song Xu didn’t react either, tapping his pen—held in his left hand—and said, "Let’s begin."
Everyone let out a collective sigh.
The diamond on the cap of the Montblanc classic ballpoint pen glinted brightly in front of her notebook.
Wen Bairan subtly slipped her notebook closer to herself.
Xiang Sun, watching their complete lack of interaction from the side, arched a brow with meaning.
The morning meeting spent ten minutes delegating routine work, and the rest of the time was entirely devoted to product development.
P&T was a new company, and for all its ambition, it couldn’t ignore a startup’s Achilles’ heel—having no product.
Aside from a few R&D projects already in progress, they urgently needed to launch a technology that could quickly win public appeal.
This heavy task landed on Wen Bairan.
Song Xu’s requirements were clear—it had to represent the company’s ethos and values, be innovative, and be delivered quickly.
Wen Bairan jotted each point down. "Okay, I’ll give it to you in two weeks."
Her handwriting was neat, filling the pages line by line.
Song Xu stroked his upper lip with his left hand, mulling it over for a few seconds. "Friday."
Her pen stilled.
She jerked her head up, surprised. "Friday?"
That’s only four days. Impossible!
She didn't even have time to do any research.
Xiang Sun thought it was a bit much. "The lab will be operational by the end of the month. Could Director Wen’s timeline be pushed back a bit until the Shenzhen University project is completed?"
Song Xu didn’t respond.
He looked into Wen Bairan’s eyes and repeated, "Friday. Is that a problem?"
He didn’t phrase it as a question.
Meaning it was non-negotiable.
The pressure was palpable, making everyone in the meeting room barely dare to breathe.
Wen Bairan frowned. If she didn’t know Song Xu wasn't the type to let personal feelings interfere with work, she would have suspected he was deliberately messing with her.
A new product presentation in four days?
She only had eight people on her team.
Even if they worked 24/7, it was uncertain whether they could get it done.
Just as she was about to argue, she caught a faint glint in Song Xu’s eyes and suddenly found herself unable to say "no."
After a brief moment, she lowered her head to look through her notes, then looked up and said firmly, "I’ll try."
Song Xu seemed to have been waiting for those exact words.
He snapped his pen cap shut. "Meeting's over."
/
The deal was sealed.
But four days was still way too short.
After leaving the meeting room, Wen Bairan quickly returned to her office and shut the door behind her.
It wasn’t until noon when Ding Benxuan knocked on her door to come by with lunch that she temporarily came up for air from the documents.
"Sister Ran, time to eat."
Ding Benxuan had something at school in the morning and rushed back as soon as he was done.
Having heard about the morning’s events, he knew she would be too busy to remember to eat, so he made sure to pack a sandwich and hot coffee from the downstairs Western restaurant.
He pushed the items on Wen Bairan’s desk aside, placed the food down, and said earnestly, "Just humor me."
"......"
Long hours of desk work had left Wen Bairan’s eyes tired. She looked up, blinking slowly, and noticed Ding Benxuan was still wearing his school cap. The words of refusal died on her lips.
She really wasn’t hungry.
Considering his good intentions, Wen Bairan chose the coffee. "This is enough for me, thank you."
Her mind was entirely on work, and Ding Benxuan didn’t push it.
Pulling out a chair in front of her desk, he sat down and took out another sandwich, digging in with relish. "Alright then, don’t mind if I do."
He wolfed it down as if he was starving.
Wen Bairan wanted to tell him he could eat in the break room—it was more spacious, had snacks and biscuits, and he could get more if needed.
Before she could speak, Ding Benxuan noticed the way she was looking at him and grinned awkwardly. "Sorry, I didn’t eat anything this morning, so I’m starving. Sister Ran, you won’t laugh at me, right?"
"No, of course not."
Since he put it that way, Wen Bairan couldn’t ask him to leave. She opened the coffee lid and took a sip. "It’s fine, no rush."
"Mhmm!" Ding Benxuan licked his lips and nodded eagerly.
He finished the sandwich in two minutes and pulled out another from the paper bag.
Now that he'd eaten something, he noticeably slowed down this time.
"The sandwiches from the shop downstairs are too small. A few of them aren’t enough for me—nothing like the big buns from our school cafeteria. And they’re so expensive! My budget only allows me to buy three."
Upon hearing this, Wen Bairan immediately pushed her portion toward him. "Then have this one too."
"Are you sure?"
"It’s fine, help yourself." Wen Bairan took a sip of coffee and smiled faintly. "You’re still growing; you need to eat more."
Ding Benxuan lit up—he hadn’t expected her to joke with him—and promptly accepted her offer. "Thanks, sis!"
Wen Bairan was caught off guard by his cheer. She paused, then her smile widened slightly. "Go on, eat."
As she spoke, she casually checked her phone.
Just then, she saw a message from Qiao Yi inviting her to lunch.
She replied saying she'd already eaten.
Qiao Yi sent back a question mark.
There were no other messages to respond to, so she set the phone down again.
With Ding Benxuan still there, she couldn’t work.
For a moment, she didn't know what to do with herself.
All she could do was watch him eat.
Young people certainly have good appetites—in the blink of an eye, the second sandwich was gone, and he was unwrapping the third.
Just as she was thinking it'd been ages since her own appetite had been that good, Ding Benxuan suddenly looked up, cocked an eyebrow at her, and said, "Hungry now?"
She paused. "It’s fine, don't mind me. Just eat."
Wen Bairan thought he was going to offer her the third sandwich and was quick to refuse, but then she saw him put it down and pull out a box of salad from the paper bag.
She was surprised. "Why did you buy so much?"
"I knew you wouldn’t hold out. This is for you."
Ding Benxuan got the utensils out, stood up, and set them out neatly in front of her. Once done, he didn't sit back down.
He braced his hands on either side of her desk, the muscles in his arms unintentionally tensing noticeably and filling his sleeves. Only then did Wen Bairan notice that even though it was already November, he was still wearing short sleeves.
His body... really was something else?
They were standing a little too close.
Ding Benxuan seemed to enjoy getting in people's space like this. Wen Bairan leaned back subtly and looked at him.
"I heard about what happened this morning. Although time is precious, your health is even more precious. Don’t worry, I've got your back!"
His deliberately mature tone hadn't quite nailed that trustworthy vibe yet—it sounded somewhat laughable instead.
Wen Bairan couldn't help but let a smile creep into the corners of her eyes. In her peripheral vision, she noticed a figure passing by outside the door.
The person outside grasped the door handle.
Turned it gently.
The woman’s voice, playful yet probing, wasn’t loud but was just enough for both men inside and outside to hear.
"Honestly, you don't have a thing for me, do you?"