"What meal voucher?" Zhou Zhuofei instantly perked up, pushing the door open and slipping to the desk, picking up the voucher to examine it.
Xiao Wang noticed the faint red marks still visible on her wrist and asked worriedly, "Is your wrist really okay?"
"Huh?" Zhou Zhuofei merely glanced down before dismissing it. "It's fine, really. My skin is just like this—it turns red at the slightest bump and takes forever to fade."
To prove her point, she rolled up her sleeve and showed him her wrist. "See? It's just a little red. No problem at all."
Xiao Wang took a look and, confirming there were no actual wounds, finally relaxed.
As she began adjusting her sleeve again, his gaze unconsciously followed her movements, lingering on the red marks. For some reason, it reminded him of the scene he'd witnessed a few days prior.
He recalled the blush on Zhou Zhuofei’s ears—had that not been from nervousness, but just her skin’s sensitivity?
Lost in thought, he barely noticed as Zhou Zhuofei picked up the voucher. It was for a renowned high-end restaurant in the city—one Du Yu had visited before, even sending her photos of the experience.
"Wow! Are you really giving this to me?" Zhou Zhuofei asked, delighted.
"Of course."
Though she was eager to accept, she still felt obliged to decline politely. "Xiao Wang, you keep giving me things. I really shouldn’t..."
Xiao Wang chuckled at the undisguised longing in her eyes. He much preferred—and was far more accustomed to—seeing her like this rather than distressed.
"Don’t overthink it. I have plenty of these, and I rarely use them anyway."
"Well... in that case, I won’t hold back?" Even as she spoke, her hands were already tightly clutching the voucher.
"Didn’t we agree last time? No need to be formal with me. We’re helping each other out."
"Right, right. Helping each other."
Zhou Zhuofei thanked him cheerfully and, the moment she left the office, messaged Du Yu to share the good news. The two quickly made plans to visit the restaurant that very evening.
Come to think of it, this meant she wasn’t exactly lying to Xie Huai—she really did have plans tonight.
The dinner was thoroughly enjoyable. The ambiance was elegant, the food exquisite, and before digging in, Zhou Zhuofei happily snapped a photo to post online.
Du Yu was equally pleased. She’d been tightening her belt lately, so this was a rare indulgence.
After the meal, the two went their separate ways.
That night, as Zhou Zhuofei lay in bed catching up on a new anime, she noticed her post had garnered several times more likes than usual.
Money never lied—photos from upscale restaurants didn’t need careful angles to look enticing.
The next day at work, colleagues immediately asked where she’d dined the previous evening.
At the mention of the restaurant’s name, gasps followed.
"That place isn’t cheap!"
"I knew it looked expensive! How much did you spend?"
Zhou Zhuofei knew bringing up Xiao Wang’s name would only cause trouble for him, so she brushed it off, saying a friend had given her the voucher.
But the questions reminded her of what Du Yu had asked the night before:
"Does Xiao Wang treat everyone this way, or is he especially nice to you?"
Though Zhou Zhuofei had insisted it was the former, deep down, she felt she did receive special treatment from him.
But her perspective had shifted. If Xiao Wang went out of his way for her, it must be because they got along well. Beyond mere transactions, human connections often came down to natural rapport—just like how she and Du Yu, despite not being the first to meet in their club, had become the closest. Wasn’t that simply because they clicked?
The next morning, despite a busy workload, Zhou Zhuofei remained in high spirits after the previous night’s feast.
Amid the usual office bustle, a deliveryman suddenly appeared at the door holding a bouquet, instantly drawing everyone’s attention.
It wasn’t a holiday or anyone’s birthday—so who were the flowers for?
"Excuse me, which one of you is Ms. Zhou Zhuofei?"
The moment the words left his mouth, all eyes turned to her.
Zhou Zhuofei hadn’t expected to be the center of this spectacle but raised her hand. "That’s me."
The deliveryman approached, set the bouquet on her desk, and handed her a receipt to sign.
"Please sign here."
As she took it, Zhou Zhuofei instinctively scanned the details—the florist’s name and address, the bouquet’s specifications, her own contact information, and a phone number listed under "sender."
It wasn’t her number, though. She made a mental note of it.
"Could you tell me who sent these?"
The deliveryman shook his head. "Sorry, I’m just the courier. I only have this contact number. You could check with them."
"Got it. Thanks."
Once he left, Zhou Zhuofei searched the bouquet for a card or any hint of the sender’s identity but found nothing.
The arrangement was a mix of flowers—she recognized champagne roses and calla lilies, but the rest were unfamiliar. Still, the florist’s skill was undeniable; the blend of seven or eight varieties was harmonious, with clear focal points and complementary colors.
But who could have sent them?
She rarely received flowers. The last time had been two years ago, when Du Yu gifted her a spray of bubble roses for her birthday—but that bouquet paled in comparison to this one’s elegance.
Luo Jing wandered over to admire them. "Wow, Zhou Zhuofei, you’re really moving up in the world! These are gorgeous. A bouquet this size must’ve cost a fortune, huh?"
A coworker passionate about plants chimed in, "Price isn’t about size—it’s about the varieties. Some of these flowers go for hundreds per stem."
"That expensive?" Luo Jing whistled. "I paid just over a thousand for ninety-nine roses for my girlfriend last time. A single stem costs hundreds?"
"Cheap roses aren’t worth much," the colleague explained, unable to resist stepping closer for a detailed inspection. As they examined the bouquet, they listed the types and their approximate market prices.
By the end of the breakdown, Zhou Zhuofei had already ruled out Du Yu as the sender—she couldn’t afford this.
That left only one likely possibility...
She checked the number she’d memorized against her phone contacts. It didn’t match Xie Huai’s.
Then again, someone ordering flowers probably wouldn’t use their personal number.
"Zhou Zhuofei, this has to be from an admirer, right?" Luo Jing’s mental calculations left her stunned.
Zhou Zhuofei shook her head. "No idea. There’s no name. I don’t even know who sent them."
"Someone spends this much and doesn’t leave a note? Did you save a life recently or something?"
"Maybe. Just existing every day is my way of accumulating good karma."
"Hahaha, think again—this was definitely sent by a man," Luo Jing said with certainty.
"Why?"
"Because flowers are the safest bet. That’s how all men think."
After brushing off her colleague, Zhou Zhuofei showed the phone number to Zhan Zilang, hoping he might recognize it.
"Let me check." Zhan Zilang scrolled through his contacts but came up empty. "I don’t have it here, Zhou-jie. Why don’t you just call and find out?"
"No, forget it. If the sender didn’t leave a name, why should I bother being proactive?"
"Then just ignore it. If they sent it, just keep it," Zhan Zilang said.
Zhou Zhuofei thought that made sense. Whether the sender was Xie Huai or not, if they weren’t making an effort, why should she respond?
If they couldn’t even leave a name, she’d pretend she knew nothing—just a bouquet picked up off the ground. As for the cost, what did that have to do with her?
But the next day, the flower delivery guy returned with a completely different arrangement, just as meticulously styled and clearly expensive.
Apparently, the sender was more patient than she’d assumed.
And Zhou Zhuofei suddenly realized that if this turned into a battle of endurance, she’d be the one at a disadvantage.
Because all they had to do was pay, while she had to deal with the complications.
So she chose a more direct approach. When the delivery guy came on the third day, she outright refused the flowers.
They had the freedom to buy flowers, and she had the freedom to reject them, right?
She did feel a little bad for making the delivery guy waste his trip, but he seemed understanding—probably used to this kind of thing.
Zhou Zhuofei chatted with him for a bit, hoping to fish for information. She did learn a few things, but none of it was useful.
The order had been placed over the phone, with payment transferred directly—no in-person visit to the florist—so the delivery guy had no idea who the sender was.
After rejecting the flowers that day, there was no delivery the next day, much to Zhou Zhuofei’s relief.
Three days of anxiety over a bouquet—maybe that was exactly the effect Xie Huai had wanted.
Too bad for him, she was the type to rebel on principle. The more someone tried to steer her, the more she’d resist.
And no matter how expensive those flowers were, she’d only find Xie Huai’s behavior baffling.
No name, no explanation—even Xiao Wang had to clarify the origins of two meal vouchers to avoid misunderstandings. Xie Huai’s approach just reeked of arrogance. Did he really think any woman would blindly accept such a gesture with delight?
She’d even asked Zhan Zilang about Xie Huai. Though perpetually single, he was never short of female company. He didn’t abstain, nor did he care about appearances—finding a companion was as casual as changing a suit or a car. Just another resource.
Of course, Zhan Zilang had phrased it more diplomatically, likely wary of becoming collateral damage in Zhou Zhuofei’s indiscriminate criticism.
But he couldn’t deny it was a common phenomenon. He just rarely paid attention—though that didn’t mean it didn’t exist.
After work, she sat at the bus stop when an unknown number called. The voice on the other end was polished, almost like a customer service representative.
"Hello, may I speak to Ms. Zhou?"
"This is she."
"Ms. Zhou, I’m Assistant Bai, calling on behalf of President Xie..."
At this point, Zhou Zhuofei immediately understood—her rejection had worked, forcing them to reach out directly.
"Hello, Assistant Bai." She kept her tone measured, watching the bustling street. "What can I do for you?"
"Ms. Zhou, President Xie sent you flowers recently, but you declined them. I was wondering if there was anything unsatisfactory about the arrangement?"
Zhou Zhuofei nearly blurted out—was that really the issue?!
She took a deep breath. "The flowers didn’t have a sender’s name, so I returned them. I only know now that it was President Xie because you called."
"My apologies. President Xie specifically asked me not to include a name. I didn’t realize it would cause confusion."
"It’s fine. You were just following instructions. Anything else?"
"Actually, would you be available for dinner tomorrow evening? President Xie would very much like to invite you."
"May I ask why President Xie wants to have dinner with me?"
There was a slight pause before Assistant Bai replied, "I’m afraid I don’t have those details, Ms. Zhou. I’m only handling the arrangements."
"Then I’ll have to decline. Anything else?"
"Ah—" This time, Assistant Bai was truly stumped. He’d handled plenty of Xie Huai’s requests before, and dropping his name had always smoothed things over.
But this time? Flowers rejected after one day, dinner invitation refused.
Still, he wasn’t too flustered. Who knew how things might change? Zhou Zhuofei might yet reconsider.
"Understood. I won’t take up any more of your time."
"Goodbye."
Zhou Zhuofei hung up, staring at the number. It looked familiar, so she checked her chat history with Zhan Zilang—sure enough, it matched the one from the flower order.
Which made the whole thing even more ridiculous. Xie Huai had his assistant handle the flowers—wasn’t this just textbook... womanizing?
Just because he was wealthy, a CEO, did that somehow elevate this top-down approach into courtship?
Maybe Zhan Zilang was right about one thing—the arrogance of the privileged was, to some extent, enabled by ordinary people like them.
Shaking her head, Zhou Zhuofei suddenly noticed Xiao Wang’s car pulling out of the company parking lot. It slowed near the bus stop, and the window rolled down.
"Zhou-jie, need a ride?"
"No, it’s fine!" She waved him off. Xiao Wang lived closer to the office—dropping her off would be out of his way. "I’ll just wait for the bus."
"Don’t worry, I’m not heading home today. Going somewhere else."
Hearing that, Zhou Zhuofei finally walked over. "Then I won’t say no."
Private cars weren’t allowed to stop at bus stops, so she hurried into the passenger seat.
The weather was getting warmer. Just sitting at the stop had made her back damp with sweat, forcing her to take off her blazer.
Inside the car, the air conditioning was on, and she couldn’t help sighing in relief.
"So much cooler..."
Xiao Wang noticed Zhou Zhuofei's cheeks were slightly flushed, with a thin layer of sweat glistening on the bridge of her nose. From a distance, it looked as though tiny specks of glitter had caught the sunlight, shimmering faintly.
"The weather’s getting hotter lately. Must be troublesome commuting to work, huh?"
"It’s not that unbearable yet. Still manageable for now."
Xiao Wang pulled a tissue from the storage compartment and handed it to her. "Here, wipe your sweat."
"Thanks." Zhou Zhuofei took it and dabbed her face twice before remembering she should be more careful—after all, she was still wearing makeup.
But whenever the heat kicked in, she started cutting corners, applying only a light layer of cushion foundation. Even if it smudged, it probably wouldn’t look too obvious… right?
Every summer, she couldn’t help but think how unfair the world was—why were women expected to wear makeup to work while men had no such demands?
Stealing a glance at Xiao Wang, she noted that he likely didn’t wear any makeup. Still, his bone structure was naturally sharp and striking, his features so well-defined they cast their own shadows. She thought her surreptitious look had gone unnoticed, but Xiao Wang caught her almost immediately.
"What’s wrong?"
"Nothing." Zhou Zhuofei continued dabbing her face with the tissue, relying on guesswork.
Seeing this, Xiao Wang reached over and flipped down the sun visor in front of her, revealing a small mirror attached to it.
"Use the mirror. It’ll be easier."
