Forget it.
He loosened his tie and sank into the sofa.
Pulling out the leather-bound notebook.
After all, she was his wife in name.
It was only right to respond.
Silence wasn’t the mark of good manners, and he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
"Work is busy. No time for variety shows."
His reply was brief.
Sang Lu craned her neck to read his words, then suddenly understood:
"Oh right, I forgot—you don’t even have time to eat with me."
Feng Yan neither confirmed nor denied it. He picked up his teacup unhurriedly and took a sip.
Sang Lu paused, processing his reaction.
Then it hit her—could he have mistaken that for a complaint?
She hurried to explain:
"Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining about you not eating with me."
"It’s normal to work overtime when things get busy. When the TV station has a new program launching, I’m often swamped too, haha…"
Her awkward laughter trailed off.
Anything that might be misconstrued and tarnish her image had to be clarified immediately.
Just the thought of being labeled "annoying" felt like a mountain pressing down on her.
"…" Feng Yan set down his cup, his dark eyes lingering on her as if studying something perplexing.
Sang Lu asked, "Are you coming home for dinner tomorrow?"
Feng Yan almost shook his head outright.
But after a moment’s thought, he wrote instead:
"Business dinner. Won’t be back."
Perfect—just what she wanted.
Sang Lu had only asked casually.
She had other plans tomorrow. If Feng Yan had said yes, she might’ve had to adjust her schedule to seize the chance for a meal together.
Now that she had his answer, no rearrangements were needed. Ideal.
Still, for the sake of politeness, she put on a slightly disappointed expression.
"Oh… alright. No problem. Actually, I won’t be home for dinner either—I’m visiting my parents. I’ll let Aunt Zhang know not to prepare anything."
She prided herself on being the epitome of a flawless wife.
Gracious, understanding!
Not a single complaint about her husband’s absence.
And then, as a thoughtful afterthought, she added:
"Try not to drink too much at the dinner. Alcohol isn’t good for you."
She knew the art of conversation.
Feng Yan: "…"
Just as Sang Lu was patting herself on the back for her tact—
The man wrote a few words and slid the notebook toward her.
"Should I go with you?"
Sang Lu froze. "…?"
Had she misread that?
This… didn’t sound like something the eternally icy-faced man before her would say.
She stared at the bold, decisive strokes of his handwriting.
No, she hadn’t misread.
Before she could recover from her surprise, her gaze lifted to meet his.
Dark, fathomless eyes watched her calmly.
His expression was neutral, utterly matter-of-fact.
……
Feng Yan had clear boundaries in his mind.
A marriage in name only.
What should be done, and what shouldn’t.
Hearing she was visiting her parents and asking if he should accompany her fell squarely in the "should" category.
Especially after Sang Lu’s inexplicably considerate remark about drinking less.
As her nominal husband, this was the appropriate response.
Now, however—
The tables had turned.
Sang Lu was at a loss for words.
A brief silence settled between them.
Truthfully, her visit home was for an important reason.
In that prophetic dream of hers, tomorrow was the day her father—under relentless pestering from distant relatives—would reveal that she was married, and to the CEO of Feng Corporation, no less.
After that, those same relatives would hound her, demanding she pull strings to get their sons and daughters jobs at Feng Corporation.
In the dream, she—already warped by vanity—had not only agreed but boasted that marrying Feng Yan made her half-owner of the company. Hiring a few people wouldn’t even require mentioning it to him.
Recalling that scene, Sang Lu wanted to black out.
What kind of delusional confidence was that?
Only someone with a severe lack of brain cells would spin such an idiotic plot.
She had to nip this disaster in the bud.
Tomorrow’s visit was non-negotiable.
And preferably, without Feng Yan’s knowledge.
Handle it quietly. Avoid complications.
After a long pause, she finally formulated a reply:
"No need to come with me. It’s not a special occasion—I just bought some things for my parents and wanted to drop them off. I’ll just eat and leave."
She watched Feng Yan’s expression closely.
The man’s eyes betrayed nothing. He gave a slight nod.
Not a flicker of surprise or disappointment crossed his stoic face.
As if the question had been purely perfunctory.
Sang Lu exhaled in relief.
At least her refusal wouldn’t upset him.
Good.
He’d asked, hadn’t he?
Wasn’t that progress?
A tiny milestone in their relationship.
She could almost picture it now—her and Feng Yan in the future, harmoniously cracking sunflower seeds while binge-watching dramas.
Lost in her rosy daydream—
The man across from her lowered his head again, pen in hand.
A moment later, his slender fingers turned the notebook toward her.
"Understood. I’ll arrange a driver for you."
Sang Lu blinked.
…Huh?
The next day, all the aunts and uncles would be visiting her parents’ house, along with the annoying cousin’s family, who lived in the same neighborhood as her parents.
If they saw her being chauffeured in a luxury car, it would only raise more questions.
She wanted to say, “No need.”
The refusal lingered on the tip of her tongue before she swallowed it back.
Could she really reject Feng Yan twice in just a few minutes?
He had just shown the slightest willingness to get closer to her—wouldn’t it be too harsh to pour cold water on him twice?
“Okay~”
Sang Lu replied cheerfully, returning the kindness with an offer of her own,
“I’ll bring you some crispy fried fish my dad made when I come back. It’s delicious.”
Feng Yan stayed silent.
He had meant to tell her—no need, he hated fish the most.
Too troublesome.
After a moment of consideration, he said nothing at all.
Eating fish, and explaining his dietary preferences.
Both seemed like unnecessary hassles to him.
---
The following day.
Sang Lu took half a day off from the TV station.
In the afternoon, the driver parked the car at the station’s entrance.
Making sure none of her colleagues saw her, Sang Lu slipped inside in a flash.
The driver asked respectfully,
“Madam, where would you like to go?”
Sang Lu adjusted her hat brim, as if she were on a secret mission:
“Yile Neighborhood.”
……
Inside Yile Neighborhood.
A mother and daughter, looking strikingly alike, drove slowly in a Mercedes-Benz.
Zhuang Xiao sat in the driver’s seat. “Mom, my boyfriend gave me this car. Isn’t it nice?”
“Very nice, so luxurious!”
Zhuang’s Mother beamed with pride.
“I’ve always said you were destined for greatness—sharp-minded and, most importantly, good at picking men. Not like me, stuck with your father, living in this old neighborhood my whole life.”
Hearing her mother’s words, Zhuang Xiao swelled with satisfaction.
She had pestered her boyfriend for over a month, using every trick in the book, until he finally gifted her this car.
A Mercedes-Benz.
It had cost a whopping 380,000 yuan!
“Xiao Xiao, you really make me proud!” Zhuang’s Mother praised before shifting the topic. “You’re so much better than your cousin Sang Lu. What’s the use of having so many admirers since childhood? She’s still single now. By the time she’s thirty, who’d even want her?”
The Zhuang family lived in Unit 3 of Yile Neighborhood, while the Sang family lived in Unit 2, separated by a small fitness area.
Zhuang’s Mother often ran into Sang Lu’s mother, Lin Yueyin, during her evening walks. The two had been locked in a silent rivalry for years, comparing everything under the sun.
Zhuang Xiao: “Speaking of which, I saw Sang Lu the other day. Still carrying that same old bag she’s had since college—so shabby.”
Zhuang’s Mother: “What’s the point of just being pretty? If you’re not smart, you’ll never amount to anything.”
Zhuang Xiao: “Exactly. People judge you by your clothes first these days.”
Zhuang’s Mother: “Like mother, like daughter. Her mom doesn’t have my kind of blessed fate either—she’ll never ride in a car this nice in her lifetime.”
Zhuang Xiao scoffed: “Of course not. Sang Lu still rides that beat-up electric scooter. You’d think with her TV station salary, she could at least afford a decent car?”
“Honestly, if you didn’t know she worked at a TV station, you’d think she was delivering takeout.”
With that, mother and daughter exchanged a smirk, their eyes brimming with undisguered mockery.
Zhuang Xiao stepped on the gas, revving the engine.
She planned to circle the neighborhood a few times.
Zhuang’s Mother ordered: “Drive around more. Let’s go shopping, hit the supermarket, and come back after dinner.”
That was when the neighborhood would be bustling with people coming and going.
Perfect for showing off their Mercedes-Benz to all the old neighbors!
Zhuang Xiao understood immediately and rolled down all the windows.
Wouldn’t want anyone to miss it.
The Mercedes turned left out of the neighborhood, merging onto the main road.
Neither of them noticed—
In the rearview mirror—
A white Lykan rolled into the neighborhood.
