Though he had called out Zhong Ziyan’s bluff earlier, Wei Hanyun still willingly pulled out the manila folder and began reading its contents.
Wei Hanyun often found Zhong Ziyan’s “tit-for-tat” approach to interpersonal exchanges amusing. Her schemes were so transparently well-intentioned that even her little calculations carried an inexplicable charm—almost endearingly naive.
So much so that Wei Hanyun had nearly grown accustomed to guiding Zhong Ziyan into feeling like she had “contributed” something before he gave her anything, just to smoothly complete the act of gifting.
Under the glow of the car’s interior light, Wei Hanyun finished reading the stack of documents Zhong Ziyan had printed out on their way back from Mingqiu Mountain to Tingshan. With practiced nonchalance, he slid the papers back into the folder.
“Is the charity running smoothly?” Zhong Ziyan immediately asked.
“There are a few things I need to verify,” Wei Hanyun replied, winding the folder’s string fastener back into place. “I’ll let you know once I have answers in a few days.”
Zhong Ziyan frowned. “If you’re saying that, then something must be off.”
“A minor issue,” Wei Hanyun reassured her. “Trust me as much as I trust your driving—it’ll be resolved soon.”
Zhong Ziyan considered this and found it reasonable. When it came to navigating convoluted matters, Wei Hanyun was undeniably far more skilled than her.
The entrance to Tingshan’s residential district came into view in the distance, and Zhong Ziyan eased off the accelerator. “What’s for supper?” she asked.
Wei Hanyun checked his watch. “At this hour, we’ll have to see what’s left in the kitchen.”
After an adrenaline-fueled evening, both of them had settled into a quiet hunger.
Though for Zhong Ziyan, Wei Hanyun mused, this was likely her way of repaying him for looking into the charity—one favor at a time.
They parked in the underground garage and headed straight for the kitchen, bypassing everyone except the butler before raiding the walk-in fridge.
While Zhong Ziyan was no stranger to foraging for food here, Wei Hanyun—who had never set foot in the kitchen—nearly locked himself inside.
In the end, they settled for the simplest ingredients: milk and eggs, whipped into a fluffy scramble. They polished it off with ketchup, loaded the dishes into the washer, and went upstairs together.
Just before parting ways to their separate bedrooms, Wei Hanyun called out, “Wait a moment.”
Zhong Ziyan, already two steps ahead, turned back and padded over to him.
Wei Hanyun couldn’t shake the image of those pointed ears from his dream, yet the Zhong Ziyan before him bore no resemblance to that fantastical figure.
“May I touch your ears?” he asked politely. “You’re free to refuse.”
Zhong Ziyan thought the question was absurdly formal.
Excessive politeness only made things awkward.
But she squared her shoulders with practiced ease, sweeping her hair to one side and tilting her head toward him. “Go ahead.”
“I’ll be gentle.” Wei Hanyun hesitated before reaching out. The ear under his fingertips was undeniably human—no different in shape, color, or temperature. Yet perhaps due to its delicate thinness or her fair skin, the backlight from the hallway illuminated the faint tracery of capillaries beneath.
He traced the curve of her ear, then gently pinched the tragus—where trendy youngsters pierced their cartilage—with the meticulousness of an ENT specialist.
Unconsciously, the inspection stretched past a full minute.
Zhong Ziyan: “…” It’s… kinda ticklish.
But Zhong Ziyan was no ordinary person. If she could endure the agony of genetic modification, she could damn well endure a little itch!
So when Wei Hanyun noticed the small ear between his fingers rapidly heating up, he glanced over to find Zhong Ziyan with her eyes tightly shut, holding her breath.
Clearing his throat, he withdrew his hand. “Apologies. I got carried away.”
Zhong Ziyan exhaled in relief, scratching her tingling right ear as she turned back. “Did you need to feel it to confirm it wasn’t pointy?”
“Just in case,” Wei Hanyun chuckled softly. “Goodnight. See you tomorrow.”
……
Zhong Ziyan was still pondering how to explain Wei Hanyun’s dream away when she fell asleep, but her attention was swiftly diverted the next day—Hua Shuangshuang had returned from her business trip, bringing along a team specializing in gold-plating luxury items to Tingshan.
Literally leaping from her chair in excitement, Zhong Ziyan pointed at the Aston Martin One-77 and asked if the team could plate it in 24k gold.
The entire team’s expressions stiffened.
If one had to describe their reaction, it was a mix of polite professionalism and visceral anguish at the thought of “desecrating a masterpiece.”
Still, after a brief assessment, they confirmed the feasibility of the gold-plating process.
“However,” the team leader cautioned tactfully, “a high-performance vehicle like this may experience operational interference post-plating. The wear on the gold layer would also incur significant upkeep costs.”
Zhong Ziyan patted the One-77’s roof mournfully. “Then I’ll drive this one less and stick to the red one from yesterday.”
The team leader’s gaze swept across the sprawling garage, mentally chastising himself: With a client who owns enough cars to rotate daily for a month, why am I even worrying about this?
Out of courtesy, he asked, “Which red model did you mean?”
“That one.” Zhong Ziyan gestured casually.
The team’s collective gaze landed on the flamboyant Ferrari F40 in screaming scarlet: “…” Our mistake, Your Highness.
Though Tingshan’s residence struck the luxury-savvy team as relatively modest, they’d already heard enough about China’s staggering real estate prices en route to grasp its exclusivity.
The One-77 was Zhong Ziyan’s most coveted gold-plating project, and she’d secured Wei Hanyun’s permission beforehand. Now that the plan was greenlit, her joy was palpable.
Once the boss is free, I’ll take him for a spin in this golden chariot!
Since the fact that she and Wei Hanyun occupied separate bedrooms needed to remain confidential, Zhong Ziyan left Hua Shuangshuang to entertain the plating team in the living room while she dashed upstairs to gather all the items she wanted gilded.
First came her newly acquired phone, tablet, and laptop, followed by trinkets and knickknacks purchased online.
She even had one of Old Madam Yu’s gifted Bechstein grand pianos wheeled out.
The team leader wiped his brow. “Pardon my asking, but the value of this piano is…?”
“A gift from family,” Zhong Ziyan assured him, resting her chin on her hand. “But I’ve already gotten her approval, so no worries.”
After a thorough inspection, the team leader exhaled in relief. “We may need to avoid certain sections… but most of it can be plated. That said, I’d like to consult a musical instrument expert for a secondary evaluation to ensure the sound quality and playability remain unaffected. Would that be acceptable?”
Zhong Ziyan agreed—she’d refrained from bringing out her violin precisely over tonal concerns.
Having only recently moved into Tingshan, Zhong Ziyan’s belongings were still limited, and the pile of gold-plating candidates filled barely half the living room before she called it a day.
Finally, she placed an utterly ordinary ballpoint pen on the table: "And this."
The team leader stared at it with a solemn expression for several seconds, momentarily unable to determine whether it belonged to some renowned luxury brand.
Aurora or Montblanc? Why weren’t there any diamonds or gemstones embedded in it to exude an air of wealth?
Though it looked plain at first glance, it must surely be something extraordinary in disguise!
"May I ask... what brand is this pen?" he cautiously inquired of Zhong Ziyan.
"I bought it from a stationery store while passing by. It’s very comfortable to hold," Zhong Ziyan replied. "You can just replace the refill and keep using it forever."
The team leader nodded solemnly. "Understood. Would you like us to arrange insurance for it?" It must be a high-end custom piece!
Zhong Ziyan looked puzzled. "Insurance for a ten-yuan pen?"
The team leader: "..." You, who use Stradivarius and Bechstein for instruments, Aston Martin and Ferrari for cars—why are you so attached to a ten-yuan pen that you want it plated in gold?!
Though his mind was flooded with unspoken complaints, the gold-plating team, after finalizing the contract with Hua Shuangshuang, carefully packed all the valuable... or not-so-valuable items and had them transported by a specially hired luxury logistics company.
Since there were more items than expected, they had to return to London for the processing work before shipping everything back to China.
Zhong Ziyan watched as the One-77 was the last to be loaded away, imagining its dazzling golden transformation upon return, and felt a wave of satisfaction.
Meanwhile, the team leader quietly whispered to Hua Shuangshuang, "Gold can be finished in many different shades. I’ll try to select something... less... ostentatious."
When Hua Shuangshuang had first arrived at the Knightsbridge branch for the job, the blinding gleam of gold inside the "Everything Gilded" shop had nearly knocked her off her feet.
But then she thought of that eye-searingly flashy One-77, and a sliver of conscience returned.
Such a garish car does not suit my boss!!
Hearing the team leader’s words now, hope flickered in Hua Shuangshuang’s heart once more.
She immediately grasped his hands earnestly. "Please, I beg you. Look at her face a little longer—let that be your inspiration when choosing the finish."
At this, the team leader couldn’t help but glance again at Zhong Ziyan standing by the entrance. "...Forgive me for saying this, Miss Hua, but no matter how I look at her, I can’t reconcile her taste with that of Middle Eastern tycoons."
Hua Shuangshuang had no rebuttal. She swiftly changed tactics. "...Then look at her a few more times. Maybe that’ll help you forgive the mismatch."
"...Y-You’re right..." The team leader struggled to tear his gaze away from Zhong Ziyan’s face. "...Oh my God, you demon, stop casting spells on me—I’m a married man!"
