Feng Yan indifferently withdrew his gaze.
Absentmindedly, he took a few steps forward.
After walking a short distance,
he heard the voices of Aunt Zhang and Aunt Li coming from the collection room.
“When is Madam coming back? I miss playing badminton with her,” Aunt Zhang said, her tone filled with longing.
“Yes, the chef even made Madam’s favorite dishes tonight. It’s a shame she isn’t here to enjoy them,” Aunt Li sighed.
Feng Yan paused mid-step.
The figure he had just suppressed in his mind resurfaced once more.
It was Sang Lu, waving her hands excitedly while playing Switch in the living room.
It was also Sang Lu, unable to sit still during meals, lavishing praise on the chef’s skills as if they were divine.
The man’s dark eyes narrowed slightly.
Unconsciously,
Sang Lu seemed to have infiltrated every aspect of his life when he least expected it.
And at the same time,
he realized—
the unfamiliar emotion lingering in his heart these past few days.
Perhaps… it was called a sense of loss.
---
The next day.
Feng Corporation.
Approaching noon, Fang Assistant, as per routine, sent his boss a message in advance.
Fang Assistant: [President Feng, what would you like for lunch today? Would you prefer to dine upstairs or at the cafeteria?]
The Feng Corporation cafeteria had dedicated chefs preparing meals for Feng Yan.
Both the executive office and the cafeteria had private dining areas, allowing him to choose his dining location and menu based on his mood.
Normally, Fang Assistant would have to wait at least half an hour for a response.
But today, to his surprise, his phone buzzed immediately:
[Upstairs. Sashimi.]
Sashimi?!
Fang Assistant was stunned.
He distinctly remembered that President Feng disliked all raw and cold foods!
Once, a new chef had accidentally placed a plate of salmon sashimi in front of President Feng, who immediately frowned. After the meal, he made it clear—he was not some unevolved primitive, and such dishes should never appear before him again.
Fang Assistant was baffled: ???
He muttered to himself.
Why would President Feng suddenly want sashimi?
Confused as he was, he maintained his professionalism and promptly relayed the lunch arrangements to the kitchen.
At noon,
an exquisitely arranged sashimi platter, along with other dishes, was placed on the table before Feng Yan.
Fang Assistant stood nearby, hands clasped behind his back, awaiting further instructions.
Out of curiosity, he stole a few glances.
Suddenly, his pupils contracted in shock.
President Feng had actually reached for the sashimi first!
Had his taste really changed?
Fang Assistant made a mental note.
At the table,
Feng Yan picked up a slice and placed it in his mouth.
The cold, raw texture made his brows furrow instantly.
The pungent sting of wasabi assaulted his senses—
unfamiliar, vivid,
and unrestrained.
After a moment, his tightly knitted brows gradually relaxed, the frost in his expression dissipating slightly.
Fang Assistant, however, was now filled with even greater confusion.
He had assumed President Feng’s tastes had shifted and was about to dutifully update his records for future meal adjustments.
But then he noticed—
this so-called “change in taste” seemed to apply only to the scallops. The salmon, sweet shrimp, and other items on the platter remained untouched.
Fang Assistant felt he had encountered one of the greatest challenges of his career.
Had President Feng’s preferences changed or not?
He couldn’t decipher his boss’s thoughts at all.
Baffled, he scratched his head.
---
That night.
Qinghe Bay.
In the kitchen, Aunt Zhang and Aunt Li were washing dishes.
Aunt Zhang suddenly lowered her voice:
“Don’t you think the master has been in a bad mood these past few days?”
Aunt Li paused while drying a plate: “Hasn’t he always been like this?” Emotionless.
Both of them had followed Feng Yan from the old family residence to the new home at Qinghe Bay. They knew him well.
Apart from switching from calling him “Young Master” to “Sir,” nothing else seemed different. They were long accustomed to his perpetually icy demeanor.
Aunt Zhang frowned, thinking carefully. She agreed with Aunt Li but still felt something was off. Hesitantly, she said:
“He does seem the same, but also… not quite.”
Aunt Li: “Maybe the recent meals haven’t suited his taste? Should I ask the chef to switch up the menu?”
As she spoke, Aunt Li quickly glanced toward the living room.
She turned back and said:
“You must be mistaken. The master seems perfectly normal.”
Aunt Zhang also looked over.
From the kitchen, only part of Feng Yan’s profile was visible.
Aunt Zhang noticed the phone on the table light up.
The master picked it up.
Perhaps it was her aging eyesight, but she thought she saw the faintest hint of a smile at the corner of his lips.
The expression vanished in an instant.
Yet, strangely, just moments ago, she had sensed a heavy aura around him.
Now, in the blink of an eye, it was gone.
“Was I just seeing things?” Aunt Zhang wondered aloud.
Aunt Li chuckled. “Yes, you were.”
At the dining table,
Feng Yan’s dark eyes remained calm.
His phone screen lit up with a rapid barrage of messages.
[Sang Lu: Surprise appearance.jpg]
[Sang Lu: [Photo]]
[Sang Lu: [Photo]]
[Sang Lu: Out shopping and saw some Nanchang specialty pork jerky. Thinking of bringing some back. Do you prefer five-spice or spicy?]
---
It was the fourth day of her business trip.
Sang Lu finally remembered—had she forgotten something?
She was career-driven, and once immersed in work, everything else took a backseat.
If not for today’s relaxed schedule at Qingman TV, she might have completed the entire exchange without recalling that she had a “marriage of convenience husband” whose relationship required maintenance.
While waiting for her face mask to set, she forwarded the photos of pork jerky she had previously sent to Yu Xiaoke—unchanged—to Feng Yan.
Starting a conversation? Easy.
She knew how to do this.
Keep it natural, grounded in daily life.
That way, it wouldn’t seem forced or abrupt.
What a clever conversationalist she was.
---
On the other end of the line,
the man leaned back in his chair, one hand in his pocket, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing toned forearms.
His gaze lowered slightly as he opened the photos.
Two casually taken pictures of pork jerky at a market stall.
Just as he was about to reply, his eyes caught something in the corner of one photo.
His dark eyes froze.
In the background of the photo—
a man in a mask stood at a neighboring stall.
Even with his face covered, Feng Yan recognized him instantly.
It was the same man he had seen downstairs that day.
Feng Yan’s expression darkened imperceptibly.
Unbeknownst to even himself,
an invisible shadow seemed to settle over his sharp, defined features.
