The idea of having Fu You'an as his secretary had originally been brought up by Fu Zhennan himself. This gentleman had once crossed paths with Shang Fuyan: "My daughter just graduated, and she has some prior work experience at a company. But since our family business is small-scale, we were hoping she could come to your group to broaden her horizons."
Given Fu Zhennan's prominent reputation, calling his enterprise a "small-scale business" was a severe understatement.
Shang Fuyan had rejected the request outright back then.
When an aristocratic heir came to hone their skills by his side, it was called gilding their resume if things went well, but if they made poor decisions down the line, the blame would fall squarely on him. Besides, pampered heirs required kid-glove treatment whenever they made mistakes, all for the sake of preserving future social relations.
It was too much trouble.
However, she ended up passing the entrance exams on her own merit, and revealed her family background during the initial evaluation interview.
Shang Fuyan had looked over her flawless resume, assessed her comprehensive capabilities across the board, and asked her one final question: "What is it you hope to learn by becoming my secretary?"
She had raised her head, calm and unashamed: "I want to learn how to become the richest person in the world, just like Mr. Shang Fuyan."
"..."
What a down-to-earth yet utterly unattainable goal—one that required the perfect alignment of timing, geography, and human harmony to achieve.
"Three months of probation."
He admired her guts and her willingness to voice such an ambition.
After the two finished their meal, a staff member delivered a pair of backup flat shoes. By then, the moon was already high in the late evening sky.
Secretary Fu's driver had been waiting in the parking lot for half a hour. It was only on occasions like this that Shang Fuyan remembered this fiercely efficient secretary of his was, after all, a young lady of prominent background.
Seated in the back of his car, Shang Fuyan glanced sideways just in time to see a parallel Maybach. Secretary Fu rolled down her window, turned, and smiled as she said goodbye to him.
"Goodbye, Chairman."
Right. Secretary Fu only ever smiled genuinely when getting off work; the rest of the time, her smiles were pure formality.
He withdrew the cold edge he naturally wore when alone, though the curve of his lips remained steady, and raised a hand in acknowledgment.
"Goodbye."
The two parted ways there.
It was already half-past eleven when he returned to the Shang Residence, where the housekeeper was waiting at the door to report, "Ms. Xu has not returned yet."
Though the two of them were in a marriage of convenience, they still had to keep up appearances for the outside world.
"What's her excuse?"
The housekeeper replied, "She said she was staying out with friends."
Shang Fuyan had no energy to deal with a stranger who failed to return for the night; he only worried that if his grandfather happened to ask, he would have to make up an excuse. "Find out why. And by the way, if she isn't back by eleven from now on, lock the doors."
Mr. Shang always went to sleep punctually at twelve and could not tolerate outside noise.
Especially not in the guest rooms downstairs.
"Understood."
The housekeeper could only hope that once this message was passed along to Ms. Xu, she would show some sense and stop staying out late every day, which only made things difficult for him.
Shang Fuyan read for a bit before bed. When drowsiness finally overtook him right at midnight, he lay down, clicked off the bedside lamp, and closed his eyes.
He never expected the dream to be a recurring one.
Shang Fuyan was jolted awake by the sound of faint sobbing. Following the noise, he saw a familiar figure curled up on the window seat, arms wrapped tightly around her knees.
He was dreaming again!
Shang Fuyan found it bizarre. He rarely ever dreamed—why on earth had his subconscious locked onto Secretary Fu as the subject for the past two nights?
Last night had been entirely too reckless and uninhibited; he must not make the same mistake tonight. Even in a dream, he had to keep himself under control.
The man rolled over, pulling the quilt up over his head in an attempt to force himself back to sleep.
Yet through the hazy fog of sleep, the continuous sound of sobbing echoed in his ears, striking his chest like a hammer. There was simply no ignoring it.
He lifted his eyelids, pondered for a moment, turned over, and walked toward the window seat.
With a swift pull, he drew back the curtain.
The startled beauty was bathed in tears, still wearing the same silk nightgown from the night before. Her drawn-up knees exposed the fair skin of her legs, and her reddened eyes gazed at him timidly.
"Baichuan, why are you still ignoring me today?"
Those tear-filled eyes brimmed with deep affection as she reached out, asking him to hold her.
Shang Fuyan closed his eyes, silently reciting to himself not to look upon impropriety.
"Baichuan."
Mindful of his loss of composure during their last encounter, he spoke in a deliberately cold tone: "I am not Baichuan. You have the wrong person."
"Huh?"
She stared at him in incomprehension, a sob catching in her throat: "You're not Baichuan?"
"I am not," he reaffirmed.
She withdrew her hand, looking at him with utter bewilderment. A tear slipped from eyes laden with complex emotions: "I'm sorry, I mistook you for someone else."
"You should go back."
Faced with Shang Fuyan's dismissal, she looked somewhat heartbroken, but simply raised a hand to wipe away her tears, casting one lingering, affectionate glance at him. Shang Fuyan suppressed the strange, fluttering sensation in his chest and remained silent.
He wanted to know how she had gotten in, but consciousness slipped away from him before he could find out.
When he woke up again, it was six in the morning. Looking back, the experience left him feeling somewhat dazed and hollow.
Surely this dream would draw to a definitive close now.
Today marked the beginning of an overseas business trip. Shang Fuyan's private jet had been waiting on the lawn for some time, and Secretary Fu arrived punctually as agreed. After verifying that all documents were in order, the two boarded the aircraft.
The plane was fully equipped with all amenities, resembling a miniature apartment.
This overseas flight would take twenty-six hours, with their arrival estimated at ten in the morning, meaning the two of them would have to spend the night aboard.
"Chairman."
Today, Secretary Fu had arrived without makeup, dressed in an exquisite black suspender dress and flat shoes. Since this was her first time flying in such a large private jet, she occasionally glanced around with undisguised curiosity.
Once the plane reached a stable cruising altitude, the two unbuckled their seatbelts and settled in.
Shang Fuyan opened his laptop to review documents. Just as he spotted an error and prepared to point it out, his gaze swept across Secretary Fu's slightly fatigued eyes. Meeting her boss's direct stare, Fu You'an immediately straightened her posture and snapped back to alertness.
"Didn't sleep well?"
Surprised by his concern, Secretary Fu mustered up a practiced smile and replied, "I slept very well. Thank you for your concern, sir."
Since she had said as much, any further expressions of concern would be entirely redundant.
After pointing out the error, the two plunged straight into work mode. Fu You'an opened her own laptop to revise the documents, and a busy silence fell between them.
Shang Fuyan was quite satisfied with their current dynamic, except that today, Secretary Fu seemed somewhat absent-minded.
Ordinarily, he wouldn't pay attention to what his secretary was doing once work wrapped up, but in the confined space of the aircraft, he couldn't help catching what the person beside him was up to out of the corner of his eye.
This was the fifth time she had put down her phone, followed by a third soft sigh, as she turned her head for the second time to stare blankly out the window.
Shang Fuyan couldn't help but think of his dreams from the past two nights, silently wondering if this had something to do with her boyfriend.
"Secretary Fu."
Summoned by the chairman, Fu You'an snapped back to attention at once: "Yes? Are there any sections that still need revision?"
None.
Shang Fuyan mentally kicked himself for speaking too quickly, then casually brought up their upcoming destination in Country A: "There will be a few days of rest after this business trip concludes. You can take some time to visit the local sights."
"Oh—" Clearly, she had no interest, but she still responded politely: "If the Chairman wishes to go out, I can draw up an itinerary for you."
"Unnecessary."
He had already visited quite a few places; saying that was simply—
Simply because she looked bored.
Neither of them was particularly skilled at idle chatter—both perfectly capable of telling people what they wanted to hear, but completely at a loss when it came to making small talk about leisure. Finding things to say about sightseeing was simply too difficult.
And so, the suit-and-tie executive and his secretary in her suspender dress tacitly turned their heads in opposite directions, pretending their previous conversation had never happened.
At last, lunchtime arrived.
The head chef wheeled the dining cart into the dining area. Seeing the two of them sitting opposite each other and staring out the window, his voice broke the ice and enlivened the atmosphere.
After introducing the dishes and serving the meal, the chef promptly took his leave.
The atmosphere was far too chilly; he was afraid of catching a frost.
"Let's eat."
Once again, the familiar sound of cutlery filled the air.
Fu You'an kept her head down as she ate, though her peripheral vision couldn't help catching the chairman's lean, taut waistline, where tightly strained buttons held the suit fabric in place, outlining the perfect curve of his torso.
And those pale, straight hands with prominent veins, gripping the exquisite dark-colored chopsticks to pick up food and guide it between his slightly flushed, thin lips.
The secret desires hidden deep within her heart began to stir: Those lips... must be very soft.
Until those large hands suddenly paused and laid the chopsticks down.
"Secretary Fu?"
She lifted her gaze, meeting the stern eyes of a boss so meticulously rigorous that even the top collar of his shirt was buttoned all the way up.