Zhong Ziyan felt a little guilty.
She had taken four candies in total—ate one on the way, used one to shoot at the Ferrari’s tire, and gave the remaining two to Wei Hanyun. Now her pockets were empty.
…But Wei Hanyun’s brows were still furrowed tightly!
Zhong Ziyan racked her brain, almost tempted to connect her psychic powers directly to her phone and post a desperate plea on Weibo: Urgent, online waiting for advice.
Then she heard Wei Hanyun sigh.
He unwrapped the candy. “Open your mouth.”
Zhong Ziyan obediently went “Ah—” as the lychee-flavored handmade candy was popped into her mouth.
The other candy was placed back into her hand.
“Get in the car,” Wei Hanyun said next.
Zhong Ziyan immediately walked toward the Aston Martin like a student dismissed from a parent-teacher meeting. When she reached the driver’s seat, she glanced back at Wei Hanyun. Seeing no objection, she pulled the door open and slid inside.
Sitting in the car, she patted the steering wheel in relief: I almost let you get hit. Good thing I acted fast.
Wei Hanyun didn’t get in right away. Through the window, Zhong Ziyan saw him walk over to the bodyguards, say a few words, and then turn back.
The bodyguards swiftly split into teams—some escorted the Ferrari driver away, others went to talk to the racetrack manager, and the rest approached the onlookers.
“Back to the hotel,” Wei Hanyun said as he got into the passenger seat, closing the door with his usual calm, nothing like the dramatic slamming seen in TV dramas.
Zhong Ziyan peeked at him and ventured, “I don’t know the way.”
Wei Hanyun paused, not looking at her, and wordlessly pulled out his phone to turn on the GPS.
Zhong Ziyan’s mental energy instantly recovered by twenty points: He’s not that angry after all.
On the way back to the hotel, she drove at a leisurely pace, prompting one impatient driver after another to overtake them on the main road.
The speedometer barely hit twenty-five miles per hour—a mere forty kilometers per hour.
What should have been a twenty-minute trip dragged on for half an hour with no end in sight.
When yet another car honked impatiently behind them, Wei Hanyun finally turned to ask, “Why are you driving so slow?”
Zhong Ziyan had a sudden flash of inspiration, recalling a viral video she’d seen on Weibo, and blurted out, “I just wanted to spend more time on a drive with you.”
Wei Hanyun stared at her for a few seconds, his lips pressed into an unreadable straight line.
Then he turned away again.
Zhong Ziyan: “…He’s so hard to please.”
She resigned herself to crawling back to the hotel at this snail’s pace and handed the keys to the valet.
Then she noticed Wei Hanyun hadn’t walked off on his own—he was standing there waiting.
—He’s not looking at me, but he’s definitely waiting!
Zhong Ziyan quietly unwrapped the candy in her hand, tiptoed over, and hooked a finger around Wei Hanyun’s. “Wei Hanyun.”
As he turned his impassive face toward her, she stood on her tiptoes and pressed the translucent candy against his lips. “Here, you can have half.”
The handmade candy lingered against Wei Hanyun’s lips for a few seconds, like a silent standoff.
Then he lowered his gaze, gripped Zhong Ziyan’s wrist, and swept the candy into his mouth with his tongue.
Turning, he led her into the hotel, his voice flat and unreadable. “Too sweet.”
Zhong Ziyan: “…Then, uh, spit it out?”
The moment she said it, there was a crisp crack—Wei Hanyun had bitten the hard candy into pieces.
Even though it was just a candy, the sound carried the weight of something far more fragile shattering.
Zhong Ziyan: “…” She straightened up and fished out her phone, opening Weibo to frantically type a plea for help with her psychic powers.
[TodayAlsoSpendingMoney: How to cheer someone up. Urgent, online waiting.]
The first few dozen comments were nothing but waves of HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
Infuriated, Zhong Ziyan immediately posted a follow-up: [Compensation offered for useful advice.]
This time, actual suggestions poured in.
Some recommended flowers or a car, others proposed cooking a meal, and a few jokingly said, “Husband throwing a tantrum? Beat him into submission!”
Zhong Ziyan skimmed through the unhelpful chatter but found nothing usable.
So she added: [But I don’t even know what I did wrong.]
The comment section lost it.
[No problem here, if we didn’t do anything wrong, why apologize!]
[Steel. Straight. Woman.]
[Suddenly lighting a candle of sympathy for Big Boss Wei.]
A ding announced the elevator’s arrival at their suite’s floor, snapping Zhong Ziyan back to reality.
She quickly straightened up, pretending she hadn’t been distracted, and noticed Wei Hanyun seemed equally absorbed in staring at the elevator’s mirrored doors.
Wei Hanyun stayed silent, and Zhong Ziyan resolved not to speak until she found the right words. So they entered the suite in mutual silence.
As Zhong Ziyan swapped into slippers and headed to pour water, Wei Hanyun suddenly said, “We forgot to buy clothes.”
Zhong Ziyan: “?” Her mind was still fixated on placating Wei Hanyun, so it took her a moment to remember—this was about Sheng Jiayan, their second money tree, who’d only brought a backpack.
She was about to suggest calling the concierge when inspiration struck. “You’re right, I’ll go check on him. Be back soon.”
Setting down the glass, she grabbed her phone and strode out of the suite with decisive efficiency.
When the door closed, Wei Hanyun remained standing in place. He rubbed his temples, sat on the nearest couch, and crushed the candy in his mouth even further.
Then his phone rang.
Wei Hanyun answered with a swipe and listened silently until the caller finished before responding indifferently, “Send me the final copy. Delete everything else.”
Shortly after hanging up, a silent surveillance video arrived on his phone.
He watched it from start to finish, then replayed it once more before calling Fang Nan.
Fang Nan, ever the efficient assistant, picked up in a second. “Everything’s under control. No videos leaked online—just a few car photos from hours ago, but the impact is minimal. As for the other driver, the case has been handed to the police, and lawyers are preparing the paperwork.”
“Hm.”
“I saw the footage…” Fang Nan hesitated. “No casualties on-site is already the best outcome.”
“You’re defending her?” Wei Hanyun countered.
Years as Wei Hanyun’s right-hand man had honed Fang Nan’s instincts. Unfazed, he replied, “What matters isn’t what I think, but what you think—and why you’re angry.”
Wei Hanyun’s response was to hang up.
Almost immediately, a WeChat notification popped up—from the group [Did We Feed the Dragon Today?], which had recently expanded to include Wei Ziqian.
[LiYe’sCutie: [Weibo screenshot] ‘I don’t know what I did wrong’ HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!]
[RockWhatRoll: …Uncle and Auntie had a fight?]
【Eat well, drink well, live long and prosper: @Wei Hanyun Alright, the honeymoon has lasted long enough—time to wrap it up. Food outside can’t compare to home cooking. Zhong Ziyan must have lost weight.】
Wei Hanyun tossed his phone aside and leaned back against the sofa.
Expressionless, he stared up at the extravagant crystal chandelier overhead, its countless glass droplets shimmering like raindrops. A sour thought crossed his mind: I brought up the fact that you didn’t buy clothes to give you an out, not to give you an excuse to flee the scene.
But picking a fight with a student would be petty. So Wei Hanyun stayed put on the sofa, stubbornly waiting for half an hour.
Thirty minutes later, the sound of the door opening finally echoed through the suite.
The door had facial recognition, so Zhong Ziyan could walk right in.
Wei Hanyun kept his eyes fixed on the chandelier, refusing to glance toward the entrance.
Zhong Ziyan’s footsteps approached quickly, carrying with them a faint, familiar fragrance.
Wei Hanyun sniffed the air: “…” He turned his head just in time to see Zhong Ziyan walking toward him, holding a tray with a bowl.
“The kitchen’s Western-style, so I had to use a soup bowl,” Zhong Ziyan explained, her tone carrying a hint of guilt she probably didn’t even realize was there. “Steamed eggs are simple, but these eggs are supposedly special—maybe like the milk at Tingshan, where the hens lay them while listening to symphonies.”
Wei Hanyun inhaled slowly, then exhaled just as deliberately.
His anger had already faded during the wait.
But explaining things to Zhong Ziyan—getting her to understand—left him utterly lost.
The world had always been straightforward to Wei Hanyun, a single, clear path. Yet when it came to Zhong Ziyan, everything became tangled and complicated.
He grabbed a Chanel-branded cushion and placed it on the floor. “Sit.”
Zhong Ziyan sat down with the bowl of steamed eggs and pushed it toward him.
“Figured out what you did wrong yet?” Wei Hanyun asked.
Zhong Ziyan adopted a dutiful expression. “Tell me, and I’ll know.”
“When you’re in danger, you can’t just think about me… or the assets,” Wei Hanyun picked up a spoon. “You have to think about yourself too.”
Zhong Ziyan blinked, listening attentively. “Okay.”
“…No, not ‘too,’” Wei Hanyun paused, correcting himself. “First think about yourself. Understand?”
This time, Zhong Ziyan’s expression turned hesitant.
Wei Hanyun studied her face and could practically see the words Can I lie? written across it.
“Just like you worry about my safety, worry about your own,” Wei Hanyun had no choice but to break it down for her. “You’re not my bodyguard. You’re my wife.”
Zhong Ziyan looked at him, blinking once. “But I don’t want to see you hurt more than they do.”
Wei Hanyun: “…………”
