Chapter 70: Choice Part 1

In early November, the sky over Shenlan had been brushed with a muted lead-gray hue. The city temperatures continued to drop, and pedestrians on the streets bundled up in heavy overcoats, weaving through the somewhat subdued roads.

Song Linyu’s secretary, Ella, cradled a steaming cup of coffee in the break room and took a sip, savoring the last bit of leisure before the end of the workday alongside her colleagues.

Over the past six months, nearly everyone at Dongyu had been spinning like tops following the boss’s lead. The company’s business empire had expanded steadily for the better, and the former chairman, Song Wen, had vanished completely from the scene—whether he’d been arrested or met some even grimmer fate, no one knew, but it surely wasn’t anything good.

Still, gossiping about the boss’s rival was far less entertaining than dishing on his rumored flames. The employees in the break room exchanged glances before turning their eyes to Ella in unison.

“Hey, I saw on the hot search yesterday that Teacher Fu’s Hidden Face has wrapped filming…”

One colleague drew out her words with heavy implication, pulling out her phone with one hand to show Ella the wrap-party video posted by a marketing account.

In the video, Fu Yanzong stood holding a bouquet amid a circle of fans, wearing a simple baseball cap. He fielded interviews from reporters thrusting microphones at him from all sides.

His responses carried that same offhand, mood-driven flair—snorting derisively at nonsense without a shred of politeness, glancing at Sun Jiayang to have him escort away the pushy marketing types trying to bait a slip-up. He didn’t bother with any niceties.

When a reporter asked if his special trip back home to take on Hidden Face—this massively budgeted commercial action flick—meant his future projects would shift focus accordingly, it struck at many people’s curiosities. Fu Yanzong just arched a brow and quipped jokingly, “Is that so? Beats me. You tell me.”

Neither professional queries nor clickbait topics coaxed more than a few words from him. The pack of reporters stared at one another awkwardly for a moment before conceding they were at a loss against Fu Yanzong.

He grinned cheerfully, about to push through the flashing lights, when he overheard a soft question from an intern at some minor outlet nearby: “So, Teacher Fu, how are you planning to spend your birthday this year? The usual way?”

Unlike other celebs who might host fan meets or the like for their birthdays, Fu Yanzong’s were shrouded in mystery. He never posted celebration pics, just a thank-you for the well-wishes online—usually handled by his agent, Ji Cheng.

The question seemed pointless, and even the fans nearby looked puzzled.

Fu Yanzong turned to glance at her, his eyes catching the Q-version animal keychain dangling from her work bag.

It was just one piece from a merch set, since Fu Yanzong had the full Yanfish collection displayed in a cabinet at home.

Remembering Song Linyu solemnly diving into fan circles on his phone to snag doujins, and the Self-Rescue System churning out high-quality fanart night after night, Fu Yanzong couldn’t help curving his lips. Then he said openly, “Nah, not this year. With someone to keep me company, it’ll be different, of course.”

…

The video cut off there, but in the days since, #Fu Yanzong Romance# had rocketed to the top of the trends and refused to fade.

People had grown numb to Fu Yanzong’s supposed love life over the years—from endless tabloid reports of boyfriends and girlfriends across genders, races, married folks, you name it. The scandals were juicier than ever.

But picking that one question to answer amid the barrage? That was a first.

Social media, long dormant on the topic, erupted in waves of speculation about his mystery partner. The massive buzz drew countless opportunists. Supermodels, A-listers, idols—they all shelled out for press releases to piggyback on Fu Yanzong’s secret romance hype, firing off some edge-adjacent clout-chasing.

Fans defended with anti-rumor tags—”Don’t believe the hype, don’t spread the lies”—while grumbling that at this rate, casuals would peg Fu Yanzong as some boat-stepping scumbag juggling eighteen lovers.

Scum or not, the fans themselves harbored unease.

They couldn’t pin down Fu Yanzong’s vibe for sure, but many longtime stans sensed something off lately—or rather, that he might actually have a real sweetheart.

The wilder the theories grew, the more marketing accounts they fed. Strangely, Xinyu News—which usually dominated the trends—stayed dead silent, no promo pieces in sight.

Who else at Dongyu didn’t know who’d ordered the no-hype policy?

That sparked the break-room gossip fest.

“Is the Boss and Film Emperor Fu ship real or fake? I thought it was promo at first, but c’mon, would our boss do that? Does he even need the cash? Nah…”

“Maybe President Song really likes Teacher Fu. I saw leaks of him visiting set multiple times… Sigh, they could just be buddies, but I read this super angsty mutual pining doujin yesterday! Way too real…”

Ella’s head throbbed amid the back-and-forth.

She was professional, never one to spill boss gossip outside work. Truth be told, she knew zilch about Song Linyu’s love life. But his special treatment of Fu Yanzong was obvious company-wide, not to mention the little details she’d glimpsed now and then.

Under the pressure, she could only sigh helplessly, “No clue, but it’s a solid ship…”

“Told ya!!”

Her colleague slapped her thigh hard with a smack, then sighed wistfully moments later. “But we can only ship for so long. Hot searches are all over Fu Yanzong’s dating rumors these days. Bet it’ll get dug up or go public soon.”

“If President Song’s the one pining, wouldn’t that be even more heartbreaking?”

Everyone nodded in agreement, a touch of regret settling in. Ella was about to chime in when her phone pinged.

It was the front desk signal—someone seeking Song Linyu, needing her to handle reception and escort.

But Ella was certain all of Song Linyu’s appointments that day were cleared, and with quitting time nearing, who showed up unannounced so rudely…

She frowned, opening the internal app under her colleagues’ curious stares.

Unlike the usual neatly filled reception cards, this message was… casual.

Front desk: “!! Fu Yanzong’s here for the boss!”

“No appointment but I wouldn’t dare stop him! Tell the boss quick and come down to get him!”

“Oh wait, never mind. He has a VIP pass and took the elevator up himself. False alarm.”

The front desk girl’s relief shone through the texts, but Ella and the others gawked in shock at the barrage lighting up the group chat.

Fu Yanzong hadn’t beelined for the executive suite. He’d detoured to the employee cafeteria, swiped his card for two portions of Dongyu’s viral eats, and chatted amiably with passing staff, posing for plenty of selfies.

“OMG he’s so handsome irl… Voice is killer too. I’m done for—full stan mode, money down the drain…”

“Heaven! After pics, he even asked if the boss has been OT lately. I said IDK, ask the secretary sis. Bros, is this THE pair??”

“Boss and Fu Yanzong this tight? No media today either. News team, fess up—is this your promo op?”

“Heavens above, sort the loyal from the liars! We’ve clarified a million times: News dept did ZERO hype!! No script!! Pure genius from our wise President Song!! Nobody buys it!”

The already lively pre-quit hour exploded with Fu Yanzong’s arrival—emojis and exclamation points flying wild in the group.

Ella wrestled her phone shut, yanking herself from CP bliss back to secretary duties. She ditched her coffee and intercepted a bored, wandering Fu Yanzong at the elevators.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Fu.”

Ella flashed a textbook smile, warm and procedural. “President Song’s still tied up with work. You can wait in the lounge if you’d like—I’ll notify him right away. What brings you here today—”

“Oh, nothing much.”

Fu Yanzong replied breezily. “Just here to pick up my wife from work. He’s not staying late today, right?”

…

Ella ducked her head, tweaking her expression, then looked up briskly. “Projects are piling up a bit. President Song might have loose ends. Why not head in and check? He won’t like keeping you waiting, and we’d catch hell later.”

Sound logic. Fu Yanzong nodded and strolled inside.

Seeing his actions, Ella knew she could probably clock out early today. After this, Song Linyu surely wouldn’t call on her anymore.

She hurried into her office, gathered her materials, powered down her computer, grabbed her bag, and headed out. The thirty-ninth floor was deserted and utterly quiet. As Ella stood by the elevator doors pressing the button, she couldn’t resist glancing toward Song Linyu’s office. Fu Yanzong hadn’t barged right in. Instead, he lingered by the window and deliberately rapped on the glass.

A moment later, the drawn curtains swished open. Fu Yanzong’s eyes curved into delighted crescents as he smiled radiantly. He raised his wrist and tapped lightly on the glass, as if scribbling something.

In the next instant, the office door flew open. Song Linyu strode straight out and collided with his embrace. That face, usually so cool and impeccably composed, now lit up with a mix of shock and joy. He tilted his head back, draped his arms over Fu Yanzong’s shoulders, and—without a word—pressed a hazy, tender kiss to his lips.

Ella snapped her gaze away. As the elevator descended, she spotted the message Song Linyu had dropped in the company group chat.

Song Linyu: “A bit late to mention this, but I hope it doesn’t shock anyone too much. Please don’t spread it around outside and cause unnecessary trouble. Mr. Fu Yanzong is my partner. You’ll likely be seeing a lot more of him going forward.”

The group fell pin-drop silent for a beat as everyone digested the bombshell. No one quite knew how to reply without awkwardness.

Congratulating them on a “century of bliss” felt too sudden and cheesy. A simple “got it” came off too corporate.

A minute later, though, Song Linyu’s account pinged again.

Song Linyu: “That’s the deal! Looking forward to your guidance (rat strutting smugly.jpg)”

It was obvious who had sent that one.

Ella stifled a laugh. She tapped the screen and joined the others in flooding the chat with rat memes.

Time passed in a blur.