Han Qian lay down early, utterly exhausted, and the moment his eyes closed, he slipped into a deep slumber. Meanwhile, Wen Nuan, resting in the master bedroom, toyed with Han Qian's antique phone, her gaze lingering on the two numbers displayed. Recalling the caller's reaction earlier, a disquieting suspicion gnawed at her—could Han Qian be seeing someone else? Perhaps even before their divorce was finalized, had he already entangled himself elsewhere?
Though she could hardly claim to love Han Qian, how was it possible that just two days after their divorce, there was already another woman? The thought vexed Wen Nuan deeply. She dialed a number, and the call was answered immediately. Her previously troubled expression dissolved into one of sly amusement as she squinted her eyes and said:
"Supervisor Li, sorry to disturb you so late. You're still awake, aren't you?"
How could the company's vice president admit to sleeping? Li stammered that she was still up, prompting Wen Nuan's warm smile as she continued:
"I heard your recent request for annual leave was denied. Is everything alright at home? Oh, I see. Well, tomorrow's Saturday; including Sunday, you can take an extra two days off. Will that be sufficient? If not, come by the office tomorrow and hand over your current tasks—I'll approve your leave myself."
After a brief casual exchange, Wen Nuan steered the conversation toward her true purpose.
"Supervisor Li, I heard your spouse works in telecommunications. I have a number that I'd like help checking—no rush, just let me know when you have time. I only want to confirm the registered owner of this SIM card."
Once the call ended, Wen Nuan's face returned to its prior solemnity. About half an hour later, Supervisor Li called back. To secure her leave, she had sent her husband to the office late at night to investigate the number's owner. Unfortunately, the number had high-level protections and yielded no information. With a hesitant heart, Li disclosed the truth to Vice President Wen, who nonetheless secured her leave—though only four days including the weekend.
Sitting on the bed, Wen Nuan murmured softly to herself:
"This poker-like number... must be a premium user?"
The weekend passed quietly. Wen Nuan reverted to her former stubborn self from their marriage, locking herself away to focus on her work. At the government office gate, several companies were bidding on a piece of land—an aging neighborhood where neither the investment nor risk departments could devise a profitable plan. Wen Nuan feared this parcel would be forcibly handed to Changxiang, resulting in a loss.
Han Qian barely paid her any mind. On the first floor, he sifted through documents, and in the afternoon, attempted some exercise—though no one wanted to play basketball with him. The young players suspected he was there merely to show off.
These days felt like an eternity to Han Qian. Every passing minute was scrutinized. The crushing debt of four million yuan weighed heavily on his chest, making it hard to breathe yet simultaneously igniting a fierce thrill and challenge. Proud as ever, Han Qian held faith in himself, but knew that confidence alone could not fill his stomach; progress had to be made step by step.
Monday morning came swiftly. Wen Nuan ate hastily and left for work, asking if Han Qian wanted a ride partway. He shook his head, claiming it was out of the way. The mother-in-law seemed to have utterly forgotten her once-beautiful daughter—no calls, and Wen Nuan hadn't answered any phone in days.
Confusion crept into Han Qian's mind. If his mother-in-law didn't call, fine. But the other party overseas hadn't reached out either? Had Wen Nuan truly blocked him? What scheme was she plotting now? Unaware, halfway across the ocean, a man lay despondent in his chamber, unable to comprehend Wen Nuan's sudden silence. After calling Aunt Li, he learned the couple had gone to make up for their honeymoon.
Lin Zongheng nearly choked with rage. Once he returned home, he vowed to deal with Han Qian first—how dare this rustic upstart steal his chance!
When Han Qian arrived at the company again, he was more cautious, avoiding crossing the main plaza of Glory Group lest he get run over by that fierce woman. Over three years with Wen Nuan, he had learned the divide between the wealthy and the poor, and had developed some aversion to glamorous women who shone in public but were likely no different behind closed doors.
For Wen Nuan had once said that ninety percent of single women were much the same beneath their façades.
That statement shattered every idealized image Han Qian had held.
He entered the grand doors of Glory unscathed; the office was bustling with employees. Dressed anew in a suit, Han Qian looked sharper. At reception, he produced his ID to receive his employment contract. After signing, the receptionist—a cute, round-faced young woman—placed a candy atop the contract, squinting playfully as she said:
"Welcome to Glory Group. This candy is a small gift, symbolizing forgetting the bitterness of yesterday. May your work here be as sweet as this."
Han Qian smiled, about to reply, when a sharp reprimand pierced the air from behind.
"Is everyone so idle? Finished your work already? If you have nothing to do, run twenty laps around the company. Don't all sit there letting your bellies swell with corruption—that damages the company's image."
Han Qian turned and leaned against the reception desk, fixing his gaze on Yan Qingqing—the company's general manager. She wore a pale yellow pencil skirt, eight-centimeter heels, and her hair was a deep wine red. She looked far less like a stern executive and more like a kept woman. Gradually, the smile faded from Han Qian's lips as Yan Qingqing approached him.
He had to admit—she was stunning, bewitching, cunning, and devastatingly beautiful, yet such a vixen was cursed with a sharp tongue.
"Don't know what to do? If you're clueless, go clean the toilets. Stop standing here in the way. You won't get a penny more for sitting at the front desk."
Clearly, she was on her period. Han Qian, adhering to his principle of 'a good man does not argue with women he can't win,' turned to leave. But just as he took a step, Yan Qingqing grabbed his arm, snatched the contract, glanced at it, and then unleashed a fierce scolding on the receptionist. The girl, utterly bewildered, bowed her head, tears reddening her eyes, afraid to argue.
"The Planning Department? Who told you to report to Planning? How many times must I say—Comprehensive Department! Han Qian, report to the Comprehensive Department. Your contract will be delivered later. Don't loiter here and get in the way—I'm in a foul mood today!"
Yan Qingqing's irritation was one percent due to Han Qian, the other ninety-nine percent from the troublesome land bidding at the government gate. Whoever took on that land would suffer losses. Her greatest fear was failure.
Han Qian took a deep breath.
"Director Yan, I applied for a position in the Planning Department. Now you're telling me to go to Comprehensive..."
"The Comprehensive Department pays a thousand more, with bonuses unchanged."
"Very well, Director Yan. I think you're about to flash your..."
"I'm wearing safety shorts, now get lost."
Han Qian intended to embarrass her, but she was fiercer than expected.
After he left, Yan Qingqing's mood noticeably improved. Having vented, she rapped the reception desk and said coldly:
"Why cry? If crying helped, I'd have cried for a month. Go to Finance, collect your two hundred bonus, and take two hours off. Don't let it interfere with work."
The girl smiled through her tears.
This was why no one disliked Yan Qingqing despite her tantrums—she berated mistakes harshly but always made amends. The company praised her as "sharp-tongued but soft-hearted." A woman in her twenties carrying immense pressure managing the company—still standing without breaking—and even seeking to improve employee welfare.
As Yan Qingqing stepped into the elevator, she sighed deeply. What was she to do next?