"No..."
"President Lu hasn't even turned thirty yet. He's not married, and there are no rumors of a lover. Where would he get a daughter that old? Stop talking nonsense, okay?" A man in a blue plaid shirt from the strategy department glared and vetoed the speculation. Everyone nodded, thinking they had lost their minds from gossip and would believe anything.
"Then...could it be his sister? It's always been said that President Lu has a sister." Someone from the performance management department let out a dismissive laugh: "That's even more impossible. His sister is Lu Siyu. You know Lu Siyu? She's a big star, even famous in Hollywood. How could she dress like that?"
"I can confirm. That girl's Converse shoes are worn out, and her canvas bag is the kind you see everywhere. She doesn't look like someone in the spotlight—clearly a female college student. Even though I only saw her back, she's really...really pretty..."
"Yes, she has a great figure. If Secretary Wan hadn't been wearing heels, she probably wouldn't be as tall..."
As soon as he finished speaking, Wan Yi walked in from outside. "Ahem!" Someone immediately pretended to cough, warning the others to stop talking. But what that person said was obviously wrong. Wan Yi was 174 cm barefoot, nearly 180 cm in heels. Cheng Buxi, with her petite frame, was at most 167.5 cm, maybe 168 cm. Even in heels, she wouldn't be taller than Wan Yi. The hearsay had gotten it reversed, hadn't it?
Wan Yi, who saw through everything. As the President's direct subordinate, Executive Chairman's Chief Administrative Secretary, COO's image representative, and PR assistant—her heart was as clear as a mirror. Although she had entered the group through connections back in the day, having fallen for a scumbag who swindled her out of money and love when young, she had at least graduated from Hong Kong Chinese University's MBA program before that fall. Her professionalism was beyond reproach.
As soon as she entered, the break room fell silent. What had been like a string of firecrackers was now so quiet you could hear a fly's wings. The gathered crowd gradually dispersed, leaving only Nars, who was washing her cup.
Not many people in this building knew Cheng Buxi's identity. Apart from the group of old-timers and those who had been around before the Lu Group changed its name, the rest had basically never heard of her. Not to mention Lu Tingzhou's personal family background—even his age was little known. It would be a miracle if anyone knew he had a stepsister raised in seclusion.
Nars, unlike them, directly asked Wan Yi: "I heard you led a girl into the Chairman's office?"
Wan Yi didn't hide it, nor did she plan to. She nodded: "Mm."
"What's the situation? Don't tell me she's a new little secretary."
Wan Yi parted her lips and smiled at her for misjudging: "She's an honored guest."
Nars almost choked on hearing that. "What?" she asked, full of confusion.
Wan Yi repeated: "She's a little honored guest."
"She's President Lu's heart and treasure."
Also hers—she had sworn before Mazu two years ago to protect and follow her for life. If not for her back then, their Chairman Lu wouldn't have extended his affection to save her in the casino. If not for her, she would have jumped into the sea three years ago and died there, food for fish, right? She definitely wouldn't be standing here now, intact and proper, earning hundreds of thousands a month, with countless people bowing and calling her Manager Wan or Secretary Wan in a typical day. After being reborn, she really saw things more clearly.
...
It was an overcast day when Wan Yi followed Lu Tingzhou back to North City. She remembered it clearly: a drizzling rain fell, the sky dark and hazy, covering the entire city like a layer of indelible dust. To meet her beloved little honored guest, Cheng Buxi, she deliberately pulled strings in front of Vice President Sun Zhiye, saying that all other assistants had been sent out on assignment and she was the only one free. After much persistence, she finally got her wish, and President Sun arranged for her to go to the Lu residence to provide support. She went to the Lu residence solely to see Cheng Buxi, with no other intentions. But unfortunately, that day, her carefully crafted 'woman-killer' image left a very bad impression on the little honored guest, and she didn't know where the problem lay.
That day, she wore a set of YSL's premium beige suit, full set, deep V-neck, paired with very bold black stockings and 7cm stilettos of the same brand. This outfit was recommended by the so-called 'Queen of Heartbreakers,' Nars. She didn't know if it broke hearts, but it broke her already zero likability into negative. It pissed her off so much she didn't want to talk for three days.
Nars, that Yu, was a native of North City. She had previously worked at the Special Zone headquarters, where she was still a nobody in the marketing department. Now, having returned to North City, she had climbed to a supervisor position. The two had met at a yakitori restaurant near the Special Zone headquarters and gradually became sworn best friends.
Speaking of this, "Could it be... Oh my god!" Nars actually believed the earlier 'illegitimate daughter' rumor from the break room. She marveled at how well President Lu maintained himself—he looked young and dashing like a twenty-something, showing absolutely no sign of his age. Truly top-tier bone structure and resistant to aging. She clicked her tongue in shock and said, "So it really is an illegitimate daughter! President Lu is already approaching forty!?"
Wan Yi: "..." She spat out her tea.
-
Chairman Office, the Chairman's office. The interior space was exceptionally spacious, with almost no echoes when walking. The floor was made of high-quality light gray marble, covered in coffee-gray herringbone-patterned soundproofing foam that slightly sank when stepped on. The overall color scheme was just black, white, and gray—an extremely cold palette. In the lounge area, besides the island-shaped black sofa, there was a centrally placed square glass coffee table with equally sharp lines, large and empty, polished like a mirror, reflecting the bright outdoor light and the clean lines of the room, including... Cheng Buxi's now flushed face.
She also didn't understand why she had obediently offered her hand, as if it were a instinctive reaction engraved in her genes. Her brother had only simply raised his hand—no command, no force—but she, like a well-trained little pet cat, had happily gone to him. To put it bluntly, he could have caught her without moving his nest. It was infuriating. Yet she couldn't control herself; after all, she had been raised under his hand since childhood, always obeying him. A twitch of his toe or a furrow of his brow told her whether he was happy or angry, and reaching out when he did had become almost instinctual. So infuriating! And only now did she realize that he hadn't called her over because of her failed exams—he purely wanted her to join him for an afternoon tea. As evidence, the pastries had already arrived.
Local North City duozhi peaches, cut into beautiful small pieces, piled into a crown shape on a pink and white porcelain plate. Beside it was a bowl of crystal-clear osmanthus syrup, a Matcha Yuzu cake from Le Goûter de Tokyo, and Daoxiangcun's signature pastries shaped like persimmons—every single one was her favorite. At that moment, her stomach also growled uncooperatively.
The duozhi peach was flat and round, looking like a duozhi (a type of dumpling), hence its name. She had loved eating fuzz peaches since she was little, but the fuzz on the skin caused her allergies, so every time she had to eat them cut open. It dawned on her that all she had to do here was sit and enjoy the afternoon tea, without worrying about anything else. But what did she do? Foolishly, she confessed everything: falling asleep halfway through the exam, not writing a single word on the big questions, and even reviewing the wrong chapters all night... She had incriminated herself, mortified to the extreme.
Lu Tingzhou still held her small hand. On her wrist was the unfailing Tissot Little Lady watch, a gift from her second sister. The beautiful, clear ice-blue dial was very particular about its wearer, only someone with her fair, cool-toned skin could pull it off. Once you get used to wearing a watch, you grow attached; he should know that himself.
"The previous one got dirty," her brother said.
So that was it. Cheng Buxi's little mutterings about 'Did he stop liking it?' dissipated.
With that, he smoothly pulled her to sit beside him. Because of her voluntary closeness, her brother's mood obviously improved. His brows and eyes glowed as he turned to ask her, "Did you like the previous one?"
Not really, Cheng Buxi thought secretly. It was just that when someone suddenly changes something they've been using normally, it inevitably sparks curiosity, right? Like if a person who never eats sour things suddenly pours half a bottle of vinegar into their bowl, that would cause confusion. But she didn't say that; she nodded half-truthfully.
The latter believed it and didn't press further.
Her brother's hand wasn't as warm as his chest; it felt a bit cool. His fingers were long and slender, their outlines clear, with a fine, jade-like fairness—like superior jade. Compared to Cheng Buxi's little ice-cube hands, this big hand crushed hers in both skeletal structure and length, feeling incredibly comfortable to touch.
Noticing that her hand felt cold to the touch, her brother raised an eyebrow with faint displeasure. "Why are your hands so cold?" he asked.
Cheng Buxi was taken aback and answered honestly, "They've always been like this." She muttered softly, "Born this way."
Lu Tingzhou naturally knew that. She had been like this since childhood—cold hands and feet, suffering most in winter, taking a long time to warm up in bed.
As if finding a handle or an excuse, he said without room for argument, "You need to recuperate." Then, "Come back home for a few days starting today."
Cheng Buxi: "..." She looked up sharply at him, her eyes full of silent protest.
Do you hear yourself?
-
The Chairman's office was the highest point of the entire building, boasting 270-degree panoramic floor-to-ceiling windows. Outside was a steel-and-concrete jungle city skyline. The afternoon sun slanted in, casting uniform patches of light on the floor. The room was filled with a rich aroma of coffee and sweet pastry.
Cheng Buxi was nestled in the wide, soft black leather sofa, carefully tackling the Le Goûter de Tokyo matcha cake in her hand. The top of the cake was a thick layer of jasmine cream, fluffy and snow-white, shaped like petals. The cake body was evenly coated with light emerald matcha cream, filled with yuzu jelly and milk custard. The sweet cream and soft cake crumb melted on her tongue. It was so good she couldn't help but squint her eyes. She hadn't had anything matcha-flavored in a long time, and at that moment, she felt deeply satisfied.
Just as she tried to scoop a huge spoonful of pure cream into her mouth, perhaps too greedy, the fork tines couldn't bear the weight, and with a 'plop,' it fell onto her snow-white collar.
"Uh..." A gasp escaped, sounding especially clear in the overly quiet space.
She froze, the silver fork still stupidly held in the air, her eyes fixed on the rapidly spreading stain on her collar at her chin. Harsh white and green spread into a large, despairing patch, with a few tiny bits of yuzu flesh sticking to it, instantly soaking into the cotton fabric.
The sound of flipping papers on the opposite side stopped.
Cheng Buxi stared at the green stain, her lips gradually pouting, brows furrowed. She carefully pinched the dirty collar, afraid of smearing her chin, looking somewhat at a loss. Then she looked up, her misty eyes seeking help from her brother behind the desk.
Lu Tingzhou, alerted by the commotion, met her gaze. His calm, unruffled eyes, even carrying a trace of anticipated understanding, fell coolly on the stain on her collar. He gave a soft sigh, low and heavy, with a resigned 'I knew it' tone. Without a word, he put down his papers and walked straight over to her.
He took the small silver fork from her hand—a Christofle Eden garden silverware piece worth tens of thousands—and placed it back on the plate with a faint 'click.'
"How many times has this been?" he began, his voice tinged with helplessness, as if asking a small, unrepentant thief.
Knowing she was in the wrong, Cheng Buxi nevertheless held her chin high, afraid of dirtying it. Her brother said nothing more, but bent down directly, one knee casually resting on the carpet. This height difference made Cheng Buxi's heart suddenly race—it really looked like a kneeling proposal motion—
She held her breath, her pupils involuntarily dilating.
Unaware of how sacred and ambiguous his action seemed, Lu Tingzhou pulled a pack of wet wipes from the inner pocket of his suit jacket, tore open the packaging, and moved smoothly. The office was extremely quiet, leaving only the faint rustling of the wipe against the fabric and his steady breath so close. The glaring stain faded and shrank under his hand.
Cheng Buxi remained stiff, not daring to move. She only dared to look down at his meticulously combed thick black hair and his slightly furrowed brows.
Cheng Buxi, oh Cheng Buxi, since childhood, how many times has he cleaned up your messes? At that thought, she felt her throat tighten. "Bro..." Her voice was dry and husky, thick with nasality. "...I was wrong." Her voice was as faint as a mosquito's buzz.
Her brother paused in his wiping, those deep, pool-like eyes lifting. There was no expected reproach or annoyance in them; instead, they were calm, reflecting her current embarrassed and pitiful appearance.
"Mm," he responded lowly, with a hint of teasing. The corner of his mouth hooked up as he teased, "The mistake is not wearing an apron to eat pastries."
Cheng Buxi: "..."
She wished she could die of shame!