The following morning, the rain had stopped, leaving the air fresh and damp. Yan Zhen, sporting two enormous dark circles under her eyes, drifted down the stairs.
Aunt Cui bustled around the dining table. Seeing Yan Zhen, she smiled. “Perfect timing! Come and have breakfast.”
Yan Zhen yawned as she sat down. “Where’s Chen Huaixu?”
“Mr. Chen went for his morning workout and just returned. He should be washing up and changing now.”
As if on cue, the sound of footsteps descending the stairs echoed through the house. Chen Huaixu approached the table, pulled out a chair, and sat down, offering a polite, "Good morning."
He was impeccably dressed, his shirt buttoned to the top, his posture straight and composed – the picture of a perfect, high-powered executive. Only the cut on his lip, deepened to a dark scab overnight, marred the image, making it all the more noticeable.
Aunt Cui brought in their breakfast and gasped. “Mr. Chen, what happened to your lip?”
Yan Zhen panicked, kicking him under the table.
“It’s nothing,” Chen Huaixu replied calmly. “I bit it while eating fruit.”
He dismissed it so casually that Aunt Cui couldn't press further. She returned to the kitchen, and Yan Zhen’s racing heart gradually slowed.
Chocolate, their Samoyed, weaved around the table, its soft fur brushing against Yan Zhen's legs. She giggled, reaching down to pet its head. Pointing at Chen Huaixu, she said in a mock-serious tone, “Remember this bad man sitting here? He’s Mommy’s enemy. Bark at him whenever you see him, okay?”
The Samoyed, with its two round, black eyes, looked at her innocently before turning to nuzzle affectionately against Chen Huaixu’s leg.
Yan Zhen gritted her teeth. “Traitor! I’ve raised you for nothing.”
Chen Huaixu, stroking the dog’s snowy fur, was clearly amused. “What should my title be to it, then?”
She answered flippantly, “Uncle.”
“You want to be my niece?”
She glared at him. “I didn’t call you that! Don’t try to take advantage of me.”
Chocolate nudged its head into his palm, and he scratched its chin with his fingertips. Then, in a slow, deliberate voice, he concluded, “‘Daddy’ sounds much better.”
Yan Zhen assumed he was pushing his luck. “In your dreams. I’m your daddy.”
After breakfast, Chen Huaixu drove to the office.
It was still before official working hours, and the office wasn't full. Employees, holding coffee cups, chatted in small groups. Catching sight of Chen Huaixu, they quickly dispersed. “Good morning, Mr. Chen.”
“Good morning,” he nodded, noticing their startled gazes fixed on his face.
He knew what they were staring at but didn't react, continuing towards his office as usual.
Whispers erupted behind him like ripples spreading across a still pond, disturbing the quiet of the morning.
Later, when his assistant, Mo Cheng, came in for his usual morning briefing, he stared at Chen Huaixu’s lip for a long moment.
“Seen enough?” Chen Huaixu tapped his pen lightly on the desk, his voice calm. “Get back to work.”
“Ah? Oh!” Mo Cheng stammered, quickly looking down.
He couldn’t really be blamed. Chen Huaixu always maintained a meticulous and serious demeanor. Mo Cheng rarely even saw him express strong emotions, let alone sport an injury in such a… suggestive location. It was like finding a tiny crack in a piece of perfect white jade, it was impossible not to wonder about its cause.
Composing himself, Mo Cheng began to go through the schedule. “…News Weekly wants to schedule an interview with you, tentatively next week. This is their initial proposal; please take a look.”
Chen Huaixu flipped through the pages quickly. “Fine. Have the PR department review the draft first.”
He reached the last page and paused, his eyes landing on a name. “Liang Yu? Is this interview part of a series?”
“Yes. They're interviewing young professionals from various fields, including law, architecture, and others, besides finance.” Mo Cheng had heard of Liang Yu. “Liang Yu is a highly accomplished young photographer. He recently won an award abroad and is returning to the country soon.”
Chen Huaixu remained silent for a long moment. Mo Cheng, confused, prompted, “Sir?”
After a pause, Chen Huaixu finally spoke. “I understand.”
***
That evening, Yan Zhen was curled up on the sofa, scrolling through her tablet, when she heard a car pull up outside the villa.
Moments later, the front door opened, and footsteps approached.
Without looking up, she quipped, “His Lordship has finally deigned to return home?”
Yan Zhao, handing his coat to Aunt Cui, raised an eyebrow. “Who upset you this time?”
Before Yan Zhen could answer, he continued casually, “Oh, I remember now. Aunt Cui, didn’t Huaixu stay over last night?”
Hearing the name, Yan Zhen bolted upright. “It’s all your fault! You made me go to that forum. Why didn’t you tell me he’d be there?”