Chapter 8: The Phone Call

The constant temperature system in the Dongyu Office Building hummed dutifully, sending out a gentle breeze. Yet the moment Song Linyu heard those words, he suddenly felt as if he’d plunged into an ice cave.

He stood on the top floor of Shenlan’s tallest building, staring blankly through the floor-to-ceiling windows at the streams of people and cars flowing through the city below. He couldn’t hear a sound, but a cacophony of noise buzzed in his ears like relentless tinnitus, impossible to shake off.

Fu Yanzong had made a request he couldn’t refuse. He had no choice but to comply.

“Can we… not talk about this? Please.”

Song Linyu forced the words out in a hoarse whisper, his plea muddled and full of concessions, as if it had taken every ounce of his strength.

They hadn’t exchanged many words during the call, but the long silences between had already stretched far beyond the fifteen minutes he’d promised during the meeting.

His secretary, Ella, stood silently at a respectful distance, arms full of files. She didn’t interrupt her boss or even glance his way.

Though she couldn’t hear the content of Song Linyu’s private conversation, she’d never seen him—the man who calculated everything to perfection—wear such an expression. He looked like a rigid shell nailed to a cross, too drained for any extraneous movement, standing motionless with heavy, labored breaths.

He must have received some utterly heartbreaking news.

Fu Yanzong listened to Song Linyu’s words and let out a soft sigh. In a calm, even tone, he asked, “So that was a lie too, wasn’t it?”

“No!” Song Linyu shot back quickly. Then his whole body tensed up like a clenched fist, a persistent ache radiating from his fingertips all the way to the tip of his heart.

Song Linyu regretted it now. He realized he shouldn’t have spoken to Fu Yanzong at all today. Until he resolved his problems and the threats hanging over him, any action was futile.

But what could he do? If he couldn’t even see the man…

In that moment, Song Linyu felt a despair like that of a cornered stray animal. For the first time, he hated the bright lights of the Dongyu Office Building, which exposed his disheveled state with nowhere to hide.

…

After what felt like an eternity, Fu Yanzong finally heard Song Linyu say, “I understand.”

Then, for the first time, Song Linyu hung up on him.

Fu Yanzong said nothing until the heat seeping through his glass—intense enough to burn his fingertips—made him slowly release his white-knuckled grip on the rim.

A film of steam clung stubbornly to his pale fingertips, much like the dampness at the corners of Song Linyu’s eyes the night before.

Fu Yanzong glanced at it, then murmured to himself in a tone laced with something inscrutable:

“He wouldn’t cry, would he?”

…The way he’d said it suggested maybe a little, but was it really that devastating?

Or was it like before—acting so skillfully that even he couldn’t tell it was an act.

“What…?” Xiao Sun thought he was speaking to him and leaned in. “Boss, what did you just say?”

Fu Yanzong looked away, giving him a light, sidelong glance. “I said you’re done for the day. Get out. You’re in my way.”

Xiao Sun, inexplicably scolded: …!!

He tried reasoning with Fu Yanzong. “Boss, I’m your life assistant, remember? The kind who’s on duty twenty-four-seven. I got your old work schedule from Brother Cheng back home. Don’t worry, I can match that level—no slacking halfway.”

It sounded good, but right after he finished, he noticed Fu Yanzong eyeing him with an oddly peculiar look.

For some reason, it made him uneasy.

Xiao Sun swallowed and backpedaled. “There might be some rough spots at first… but I’ll learn from the pros. I swear.”

Fu Yanzong took a sip of hot water noncommittally, then set down his phone and picked up the script on the table, idly flipping to the first page.

As Xiao Sun finished his second plea, Fu Yanzong flicked the edge of the page with his fingertip, producing a crisp snap. He propped his chin on his hand and asked with a half-smile, “Want to guess why my last assistant quit?”

…This question felt dangerous.

Xiao Sun shifted uncomfortably. “Was it because you micromanaged too much and it got annoying? I’ll… I’ll talk less from now on?”

Fu Yanzong pondered for a moment, as if seriously recalling, before shaking his head.

“Not annoying.”

His voice had gone unexpectedly soft.

Xiao Sun blinked, struck by how, in this sudden quiet, Fu Yanzong seemed more real than his usual smiles or scowls.

Fu Yanzong’s soft black hair fell across his forehead as beige sunlight crept slowly up from his ankles, his lean figure straight out of a painting.

Xiao Sun instinctively lowered his voice. “So why did you hate him? Why fire him?”

The moment the words left his mouth, Fu Yanzong reverted to his previous demeanor. Instead of answering, he teasingly strung Xiao Sun along. “Keep guessing?”

Damn guy, dangling the gossip!

The eager listener fumed inwardly.

But the topic died there. Fu Yanzong leaned back on the sofa, immersed in his script, lost in his own world.

Xiao Sun hesitated, then moved to tidy up the room for him.

Come to think of it, Fu Yanzong must own plenty of properties in Shenlan—standalone villas, river-view penthouses. There’d even been scandals about him bringing hot young actresses to private resort estates.

Yet here he was, staying in this apartment. It was spacious enough, but it felt like slumming it.

Xiao Sun opened the window for some air and noticed clusters of white magnolias blooming vibrantly outside. As he turned back, Fu Yanzong on the sofa was perfectly framed by the flowers and window.

The apartment’s light and shadow played in a jumble, but every beam fell just right—warm, not blinding, not too dim to strain the eyes. From this angle, Fu Yanzong sat bathed in lamplight, nestled amid floral shadows.

Xiao Sun froze. Then Fu Yanzong looked up, as if sensing him.

But in that instant, Xiao Sun could tell Fu Yanzong’s gaze wasn’t really fixed on him, standing there.

A moment later, Fu Yanzong said calmly, “Handle work stuff properly and go home. Sometimes I don’t like troubling others.”

“But…”

“My last assistant quit because he ‘helped’ his way into my bed. You sure you want to follow in his footsteps?”

Fu Yanzong turned a page in his script nonchalantly, oblivious to the bombshell he’d just dropped.

Xiao Sun’s hairs stood on end, cold sweat breaking out. He bolted to the door, raising his hand in a solemn vow to the heavens. “Boss, I’m super chill! Sure, my onboarding form said I really, really like you—but that’s just your acting! Zero funny business with the real you!”

Fu Yanzong chuckled. “Relax, you’re very safe.”

Xiao Sun: Damn it, I know my limits!

He bowed properly, waved enthusiastically. “Alright, Brother Fu, I’m off! See you tomorrow morning! Bye!”

Fu Yanzong waved him off, and soon the room fell silent again.

…The quiet was so profound that as Fu Yanzong read his script, his mind drifted unbidden to what he’d said before Sun Jiayang left.

These past few days marked the highest frequency Song Linyu had occupied his thoughts in three years.

Whether irritation, hassle, or something else.

It easily conjured memories he’d all but forgotten.

Memories of Song Linyu as his assistant for a long stretch of time. Of how he’d wrap his arms around Fu Yanzong’s waist and murmur that he’d be good.

And…

The realization that all those words and actions had been premeditated from the start.