Tonight is the corporate gala, celebrating the one-hundredth anniversary of the group.
The attendees include business partners, industry celebrities, leaders, and the group’s internal management and staff. In the front row are the reserved seats for Shang Fuyan and the various shareholders. It is worth noting that Shang Fuyan is the group’s controlling shareholder.
The gala is being held at the Cuitan Five-Star Hotel, which is owned by the group.
Shang Fuyan sits upright, looking into the vanity mirror. The hairstylist has crafted a prestigious-looking slicked-back hairstyle to suit the shape of his face. His natural features—arched brows, phoenix eyes, thin lips, and a high-bridged nose—are noble and cold; he is truly a top-tier beauty among the social elite.
The mechanical watch on his wrist is worth a fortune, its presence against his fair skin creating an air of ultimate luxury.
He pulls on his jacket and sets off.
Secretary Fu, who is waiting by the entrance, puts away her phone and stands up gracefully. "Chairman."
"Let's go."
He glances at Secretary Fu briefly, silently noting that the deep green, slim-fit cheongsam suits her style, but he does not look a second time.
The two arrive at the hotel in a private car and are guided to the front row by a host.
Many shareholders and familiar socialites have already arrived. At the moment they meet, handshakes and congratulations are exchanged. Shang Fuyan introduces his new secretary to many of them as he makes his rounds.
"Fu Zhennan's daughter?" Someone recognizes her; the Fu Family dominates the new media industry and is quite well-known.
"Yes."
Secretary Fu is polished and courteous, her smile perfectly measured, and her remarks are so charming that she quickly familiarizes herself with strangers in the industry.
He stands to the side, chatting idly about recent events with friends, keeping a peripheral eye on her until she finishes the brief networking session and returns to his side.
"The gala speech is about to begin. Come up on stage with me."
As the chairman's new secretary, her appearance is rather important.
"Understood."
In the center of the gala hall stands a camera recording the entire event. The cameraman focuses on Shang Fuyan as he speaks, occasionally shifting the lens to the new secretary standing beside the chairman.
Shang Fuyan, the group's chairman, is the eldest legitimate son of the Shang Clan. At only twenty-eight, he sits firmly in a high position, having achieved impressive results.
His net worth ranks near the top globally, and his eloquence, cultivation, and intelligence are captivating to all.
However, the leadership team beneath him fears him. Every time they see him, they feel as if they are facing a strict head teacher, terrified of being caught in a mistake. This is because, after taking office, he conducted a thunderous purge of the management, sending many who were involved in illegal activities to the "dark room."
It is a pity that such a figure at the apex of the pyramid is already married. It is said to be a marriage arranged by the old master of the Shang Clan, leveraging a wartime friendship with the bride's family, who were once a fallen noble household.
The new secretary by his side, Fu You'an, is also beautiful. Her exquisite figure, gentle and intellectual smile, and the melodic tone of her voice during her short speech make many of the staff restless.
Women are captivated by her grace and beauty; the men, no less so.
Looking at the beautiful and handsome couple on stage, both of whom have spouses, the single employees sigh with regret.
After the speech, the two walk down the stairs, and Fu You'an takes her seat beside him to watch the performances with the other leaders.
Their gazes are as fixed and serious as if they were pledging an oath. They do not touch their phones for the entire duration, and whenever there is a spectacular performance, they both raise their hands to applaud in unison.
During the show, Shang Fuyan leans his head toward her, though his eyes remain on the stage.
"Are you hungry?"
They were busy all afternoon and only had some tea and snacks while getting ready.
"I'm not hungry. Do you need me to arrange a meal for you?"
"No need. As long as you aren't hungry, we'll go eat after the gala ends."
He does not want to eat in the public eye, and neither does Fu You'an. They share a tacit understanding and say no more, focusing their energy on the performances instead.
Fu You'an watches intently, marveling at the variety of the acts; it is quite entertaining.
When the gala concludes, Shang Fuyan stands up and leaves the venue with his secretary.
It is ten o'clock at night. Shang Fuyan slows his pace. A receptionist, who has already arranged their dinner, leads the way. Only the three of them walk down the red-carpeted corridor.
*Click.* A sound breaks the rhythm of their footsteps.
Fu You'an lets out a sudden gasp of surprise. She leans against the wall, looking down at her high heels.
"What's wrong?"
Shang Fuyan stops and looks back, seeing the line of her fair neck and the gold-chain water-drop Feicui earrings swaying with her movements—green and white, dazzling to the eye.
His dark eyes remain calm and unruffled. After a few seconds, he shifts his gaze to her feet.
Fu You'an looks up, her eyes full of apology. "My shoe broke."
The receptionist nearby quickly says, "The hotel has disposable slippers. I'll go get you a pair—"
But it wouldn't be right to make Shang Fuyan wait.
The receptionist and Secretary Fu exchange a look. She knows they don't want the chairman waiting. "It's fine, go ahead."
He looks down and sees that the heel has nearly detached from the shoe. Her fair, delicate instep is exposed, and he can accidentally see her toes, painted with red polish, which inexplicably makes his throat feel itchy.
Fu You'an holds the wall to steady herself, but it is only when he grips her arm that she stops swaying. "Take them off."
"It's alright, the receptionist will be quick."
He makes a call to have his subordinates fetch a new pair of shoes.
She is very well-prepared, having considered the possibility of emergencies by keeping an extra set of attire and accessories on hand—even going as far as to consider his suit—so neither of them is particularly anxious.
They wait in the corridor. Knowing Fu You'an has steadied herself, he lets go of her arm.
In truth, it is difficult to stand firmly once a heel has snapped, yet she remains motionless, balancing on her tiptoes with a calm expression.
The chairman, naturally, would not let a secretary who values her professional image feel embarrassed, so he simply stands by her side, ready to lend a hand if she loses her balance.
But as it turns out, his secretary is extraordinarily resilient.
For five minutes, she remains as immovable as a mountain.
When the receptionist finally returns with the disposable slippers, Fu You'an takes off her broken shoes and asks the receptionist to dispose of them.
Now standing on flat soles, Fu You'an is a head shorter than him. She lets out a sigh of relief and says to the chairman, "I am so sorry for wasting your time."
"It's no matter."
Secretary Fu is far too polite.
The two enter the elevator and arrive at the dining room. The revolving table is covered with a variety of dishes. Once seated, they remain tacitly silent, each picking what they like to eat. Shang Fuyan has eaten with her many times, so there is no awkwardness in how they serve themselves.
Nonsense; this is what a professional is entitled to.
Dinner ends quickly. Shang Fuyan does not eat much at night, so he soon sets down his chopsticks to finish his soup.
Secretary Fu is a great lover of chicken, especially the Cantonese salt-baked variety. Her eyes light up whenever she eats it, and occasionally, when she takes a large bite, she raises her hand to cover her mouth, showing off her nude-colored manicure.
She is beautiful, possessing both the elegance of a socialite and the poise that comes with time.
Today, in her conversations with the high-ranking leaders, she showed great skill, neither offending anyone nor over-flattering them, and she held unique insights on certain matters, refusing to follow the crowd.
A successor nurtured from childhood is truly different.
However.
Why on earth does she like someone like Chen Baichuan?
This is the second time Shang Fuyan has asked himself this. He quickly recovers, realizing the question is bizarre. What business is it of his?
This question, much like why Fu You'an chose to be his secretary in the first place, is simply baffling.