Friday afternoon.
Beijing TV Station.
Director Wang, as usual, took a sip of tea and clicked open his email inbox.
Just as he was about to clear out the spam, his eyes suddenly widened.
How unusual.
He had actually received an anonymous tip-off letter.
It had been ages since he last got one.
A click of the mouse.
The page instantly displayed the text—
"This letter reports that your employee, Sang Lu, has abused her position to engage in illicit physical transactions to secure investments..."
Director Wang’s brows furrowed sharply.
He continued reading.
His expression grew increasingly grim.
"Absurd!"
Director Wang slammed the desk in anger.
According to the informant, they had personally witnessed Sang Lu and the Second Young Master of the Feng Family appearing in a residential complex, behaving suspiciously and seemingly engaging in transactional relations to secure funding.
This was strictly prohibited by company policy—an outright violation.
...
Yile Residential Complex.
"Xiaoxiao, are you sure the tip-off letter will work?"
Zhuang's Mother asked uneasily:
"Will Sang Lu’s boss even see it?"
Zhuang Xiao took a bite of her apple, smug.
"Of course. The email shows it’s been read."
A faint smirk played on her lips as she glanced at her watch, adding:
"By now, her boss is probably already summoning her for a talk. Places like TV stations are terrified of scandals."
While researching Feng Corporation, she had stumbled upon news of their 50-million-yuan investment in a new program at Beijing TV Station.
What shocked her most was seeing Sang Lu’s name listed as the associate producer.
Zhuang Xiao distinctly remembered that when they last met at a barbecue place, Sang Lu had mentioned she was only an assistant producer.
Now, suddenly, she was promoted to associate producer—just as Feng Corporation poured in money.
Could it really be a coincidence?
No way. Sang Lu must have sweet-talked Feng Yi into investing!
Zhuang Xiao dug around the TV station’s website and found the whistleblowing email.
She drafted a vivid, damning report.
A playboy like the Second Young Master of the Feng Family would only be interested in someone like Sang Lu because of her prim-and-proper professional image.
But if Sang Lu lost her job and became just another ordinary, dull woman with nothing but looks?
He’d dump her in no time.
Zhuang's Mother sneered. "A staff member trading favors for investments? In a formal workplace like a TV station, that’s a massive scandal."
"Exactly. Let’s see how Sang Lu wriggles out of this one," Zhuang Xiao said venomously.
Then, her expression turned regretful.
"Too bad we won’t get to see the look on her face when she’s fired."
Zhuang's Mother perked up. "Oh, but we can! My old colleague’s son works at the station—what’s his name again...?"
She racked her brain before snapping her fingers.
"—Li Jun! He’s in the mailroom. That place is a hub for gossip. I’ll find a way to get updates."
Zhuang Xiao’s eyes lit up. "Really? Perfect!"
The two exchanged a smile.
As if they could already see Sang Lu’s downfall.
...
A few days later.
Rumors ran rampant at the TV station.
"Today, I saw Director Wang coming out of the station head’s office. I overheard them talking about a tip-off letter—someone trading favors with investors, sleeping their way to the top..."
Two employees stood by the trash bin, smoking and chatting.
"No way," the other gasped, feigning shock but clearly thrilled. "Are they talking about... Sang Lu from Team D?"
"You’ve heard about it too?"
"Bits and pieces."
The man crushed his cigarette underfoot and continued:
"A few days ago, Luo Kai from Team B said he saw Sang Lu sneaking into an investor’s car after the funding meeting. And right there in the car, they—"
He lowered his voice, his expression turning lewd.
The other gasped. "Holy shit! That wild? Isn’t she married?"
"Supposedly. Can you imagine her husband finding out his wife is fooling around...?"
He trailed off, face alight with schadenfreude.
The other scoffed. "Her husband’s gotta be a spineless loser if he can’t even control his own woman."
...
The rumors spread like wildfire.
Yet Sang Lu, at the center of the storm, remained oblivious.
Feng Corporation Headquarters.
Top floor.
The faint clink of a pen being set down.
Feng Yan signed the last document and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window.
His sharp, handsome features reflected in the glass.
One hand held a mug, his fingers long and well-defined.
He took a sip, stealing a brief respite from his busy schedule.
The Feng Corporation building stood at the heart of the business district.
Looking down, the city sprawled beneath him—a concrete jungle of skyscrapers, bustling with suited professionals rushing to and fro.
Across the street, a café had placed a faux cherry blossom tree outside to attract customers.
Feng Yan’s gaze lingered lazily on it.
Then, abruptly—
The image that had flickered in his mind all day resurfaced.
He remembered that Sang Lu had a cherry blossom-patterned hair tie.
Or was it called a scrunchie?
A headband?
He wasn’t sure.
All he knew was that last night, when Sang Lu stepped out of the shower, she had used it to pull back her naturally wavy hair, revealing her smooth forehead.
As she passed by him, the citrusy scent of her shampoo drifted over.
For some reason, his mood had lightened instantly.
Before he even realized it, his fingers had already opened WeChat.
He tapped into the profile with the green Powerpuff Girls avatar—Sang Lu’s latest post, uploaded that morning:
[yySy, the paperwork pile is taller than my hairline.]
The reflection in the window sharpened.
The usually cold, composed man’s lips quirked imperceptibly.
Feng Yan had no idea what "yySy" meant.
But that didn’t stop him from finding it amusing.
Even her complaints were... oddly endearing.
Buzz—
A new notification snapped him out of his thoughts.
Old Master Feng: [A-Yan, don’t forget—today’s the 15th. Bring LuLu back for dinner tonight.]
At over eighty years old, Old Master Feng kept up with the times—WeChat, Douyin, all the apps young people used.
The monthly family dinner on the 15th was his long-standing rule.
Feng Yan: [Got it.]
On the other end, Old Master Feng nearly dropped his fishing rod.
His eyes widened in shock.
Huh? Rare.
A-Yan actually said "Got it" instead of his usual "Mn."
In all their past messages, "Mn." was practically the only word he ever used.
Was the sun rising in the west today?
Just then, the fishing line tugged.
A bite.
Old Master Feng let out a hearty grunt, swiftly reeling it in.
Midway, realization dawned.
His puzzled expression melted into a knowing, grandfatherly smile.
Handing the rod to the butler, he happily typed back:
Old Master Feng: [I knew I picked the right granddaughter-in-law. LuLu’s such a gentle, quiet girl—she’s even softened your temper.]
He preened inwardly.
His arranged marriage for them had been a stroke of genius.
Absolutely perfect.
...
Feng Yan stared at his screen.
His temple twitched.
Quiet?
Was Sang Lu quiet?
Recently, the words he had been hearing seemed more numerous than those accumulated over an entire year.
Feng Yan's slender, well-groomed fingers hovered over the screen before he finally replied:
【Feng: I’ll arrange for the family doctor to give you a checkup in a few days.】
Old Master Feng’s expression was one of immediate refusal: 【Another checkup? We just had one last month.】
【Feng: Ophthalmology.】
Just then—
Knock, knock—
The office door was rapped twice.
Fang Assistant stood at the entrance, wearing a hesitant look.
Feng Yan lifted his gaze, signaling for him to enter.
After a brief pause, Fang Assistant carefully broached the subject:
"President Feng, while I was at the television station finalizing the investment contract, I overheard some... rumors about Madam..."
