Shang Fuyan, sitting across from her, noticed her stop mid-meal, staring blankly at the bowl in front of her. Seeing her look of dazed simplicity, he felt compelled to speak up.
He was talking a bit more than usual today. "Is something wrong?"
"My apologies, I was just thinking about a few things." Secretary Fu blinked, returning to her senses, and offered him a faint, apologetic smile.
She didn't specify what those things were, implying they were personal matters.
Shang Fuyan hummed with a hint of impatience and drained his glass of water.
"Thinking while eating is bad for digestion."
There was no discernible emotion in his voice, but Fu You'an, realizing she had been rude, gave a soft acknowledgement.
After being prompted, Secretary Fu didn't drift off again. Once they finished their tasks, they returned to their respective suites. Shang Fuyan spent the entire afternoon reading, only closing his book when dusk fell outside the windows.
When he emerged, she was sitting on the living room sofa, looking at her phone.
He caught a glimpse of what looked like a chat screen, but she quickly put the phone away and greeted him with a smile, as poised and elegant as a machine: "Chairman."
"Mm."
After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Fu You'an held her phone up to the window to take a picture, marveling at how beautiful the sunset was.
Shang Fuyan followed her gaze toward the window. Frequent air travel had made him accustomed to such sights; to him, they all looked the same.
"This one turned out very well."
She suddenly exclaimed, as if she had discovered a treasure, and brought the phone over to show him. Shang Fuyan didn't let the moment go cold; under her expectant gaze, he offered his approval: "It's a good shot."
Just then, the phone charm attached to Secretary Fu’s device swung in her hand, the little chibi boy’s pathetic expression swaying before his eyes.
Why did that look a bit like her boyfriend?
Unaware that the Chairman was watching, Secretary Fu relaxed, her delicate fingers zooming in and out on the image. For the first time, she looked genuinely animated.
A ripple of a smile played on her lips. "I think so too."
She looked truly beautiful when she smiled.
But, unfortunately, Secretary Fu’s smile vanished just as quickly. Her phone buzzed, and the screen displayed Chen Baichuan’s name.
Secretary Fu retreated to her suite to read the message.
Shang Fuyan remained standing where he was, looking at the scenery, but with one element missing, the view felt lifeless.
He shook off the thought of the charm and slowly reached up to touch his chest, ruminating on the feeling he’d just had.
It felt strange.
That night, Secretary Fu didn't come out for dinner. She sent a message: "My apologies, I ate too much at lunch today. Please don't wait for me, Chairman."
A flimsy excuse.
Shang Fuyan guessed the message had been unpleasant, enough to ruin Secretary Fu’s appetite.
Was it possible the dreams were real—that the relationship between the two of them had changed?
He put his phone down and stared deeply at Secretary Fu’s personnel file on his computer. Her photo was professional and composed; even in a suit, her grace was undeniable, and the slight curve of her lips made her look serene and beautiful.
At 10:00 PM, Shang Fuyan’s phone chimed with a notification. He opened it; it was a message from the head chef.
"Miss Fu did not refuse the late-night snack. When she opened the door, her eyes were red as if she had been crying. She seems very down."
Click. He turned off his phone.
The suite was dark. The man leaned back in his chair, fingers rhythmically tapping against the frame of his phone as he pondered.
Before falling asleep, Shang Fuyan recalled the events of the last two days, wondering if he would have a series of dreams again.
But that night, there was nothing.
When Shang Fuyan woke up, he felt a strange sense of loss. He checked his watch; it was 7:00 AM at their point of departure, with three hours left until they landed.
He rose earlier than Fu You'an, and when she finally came out, he was already sitting on the sofa.
"Chairman."
Fu You'an had applied makeup, and her fresh, vibrant look made her seem even more energetic and spirited than yesterday. She placed her luggage by the door and walked over lightly.
As their eyes met, a flicker of deep thought crossed his gaze, but it vanished instantly.
Fu You'an stared at him, confused, but Shang Fuyan had already resumed his usual indifferent expression. "Is your luggage packed? We’ll be preparing to land soon."
"It's all packed."
There was nothing more to say.
Shang Fuyan appeared calm on the outside, but his thoughts were a chaotic tangle as he looked out the window.
Since reaching adulthood, he hadn't had this many distracting thoughts in a decade, let alone just yesterday.
Last night, while speculating about the failure of Secretary Fu’s relationship, a bizarre thought had occurred to him: terminate the contract with that useless spendthrift Xu Shengsheng and enter into a marriage of convenience with Secretary Fu instead.
Secretary Fu was exceptionally capable; she only needed a few years of guidance before she could run things on her own. A union between them would not only bolster the group's strength, but he would also have a like-minded partner who understood him.
But seeing her "resurrected" and full of life today had completely overturned his assumptions. He realized his thought from last night had been impulsive, hasty, and laughable.
Still, it was for the best. At least it ensured Secretary Fu’s emotional state was stable. His previous secretary had developed greed, even foolishly trying to use company secrets to threaten him.
Although she had been sent to "the dark room" and accidentally suffered a few broken ribs, it hadn't fully erased the trauma for Shang Fuyan.
He loathed betrayal from those around him.
Shang Fuyan buried the question deep inside. While the failed hypothesis was inexplicably irritating, it didn't change his assessment of Secretary Fu.
As long as she stayed in line, that was enough.
Staff arrived to take their luggage.
He walked ahead of Fu You'an, reminding her to hold the handrail and mind her step. Only when they were both on the ground did it feel real.
It was 5:00 PM in Country A.
"We're having dinner with a client later. Don't drink." Business dinners inevitably involved toasts and the like; over the years, he had learned to hold his liquor, but he preferred to avoid it whenever possible—drinking was hard on the stomach.
"Understood."
Country A’s culture was untamed and exotic, and the locals were straightforward and hearty—the complete opposite of the subtle, humorous nature of the Chinese.
Although he knew she had studied abroad, it was better to be cautious.
Inevitably, despite his efforts to shield her, the distracted Secretary Fu couldn't help but drink a glass. The sharp, spicy liquid burned down her throat, and she couldn't help but cough a few times.
When she realized what had happened, she silently tried to hide the evidence behind his back.
"..."
Shang Fuyan saw it all but said nothing, assuming she had simply forgotten his warning.
He reminded her: "The local spirits are very strong."
She turned her head, blinking innocently amidst the noise. "Don't worry, Chairman, I have a very high tolerance."
Shang Fuyan thought to himself: *Indeed, she is—unlike the last secretary, who couldn't stay conscious after one glass.*
The conversation ended. After drinking, Fu You'an showed no ill effects, sitting calmly at the table, listening to the leaders’ discussions and the projections the Chairman had laid out earlier.
Then, she opened her tablet to take notes.
Good.
After the banquet, the two got into a car to return to the hotel for rest.
In the backseat, Shang Fuyan looked out the window, occasionally glancing at her condition. Secretary Fu, who had been stared at several times for no reason, looked back at him.
"Yes?"
"Nothing."
How could she have finished five shots of liquor and shown absolutely no reaction?
It wasn't until they got out of the car that Secretary Fu’s intoxication became apparent.
She stepped out in her high heels, stood in the parking lot for a moment, and then, under Shang Fuyan's gaze, kicked off her shoes and left them where they were, walking barefoot into the elevator.
Knowing her, she wouldn't even have stepped on the floor barefoot if her shoes had broken the day before.
Shang Fuyan stooped to pick up the abandoned heels and strode into the elevator. "...Are you drunk?"
Fu You'an, being asked, looked down at her feet as if it were the most natural thing in the world, then shifted her strange gaze toward him: "What kind of thing are you, and why are you in my room?"
*What kind of thing?* The sober Secretary Fu would never dare say such a thing.
She was definitely drunk.
"There are things on the floor. Put your shoes on."
"I won't. I'm stepping on a carpet."
"Are you feeling dizzy?"
"No. You're a mannequin, stop talking so much. Shut up."
"..." So he was just a mannequin.
Fortunately, the hotel service was thorough; there was no debris on the floor to hurt her. Shang Fuyan wanted several times to reach out and hoist her up, to get her delicate, fair feet off the floor.
But he couldn't.
When they reached the suite next door and he used the key card to open the door, the intoxicated Secretary Fu leaned in, turned around, and guardedly blocked the door to keep him out, staring at him through the narrow gap.
"Mannequin, you should leave now."
"…Alright."
Shang Fuyan, following behind her, felt like a lowly valet. A man who was used to giving orders, he let out a silent, baffled laugh. Even so, he held out the high heels through the crack, his voice softening:
"Your shoes. Do you still want them?"
The elegant black heels dangled from his pale, slender fingers.