Lin Yanyan had no idea how she got home.

Zhang Xiao must have driven her back—his voice had been the only thing she remembered from her drunken haze, a relentless buzz in her ears that had driven her crazy. She couldn’t recall what he’d said, only that he’d been apologizing, over and over, if her fuzzy memory served her right.

Eventually, the noise faded, and she found herself in her apartment, collapsed on the sofa. Even with the air conditioning on, January was cold. She woke up in the middle of the night, her head pounding, and spotted a half-empty glass of water on the table. Smelling it, she realized it was honey water—probably Zhang Xiao’s doing. She drank the rest of it, then staggered toward the bathroom, only to notice a box on the table.

She turned on the living room light and found a cake inside, along with a greeting card: "Yanyan, Happy Birthday!"

So yesterday had been her birthday. The handwriting on the card was instantly recognizable. Anger surged through her—so much so that she couldn’t even bring herself to look at the cake. She grabbed a jacket, stuffed the cake box, the fruit, and all the other gifts from that man into a bag, and took it downstairs to toss in the trash.

The neighborhood was deserted at night, only a few dim lights illuminating the small garden. Clad in her coat and slippers, she wandered aimlessly, finally settling on a bench under a streetlamp.

The night wind was biting, frost hanging in the air—her breath fogged instantly. Yet there she sat, alone, staring at this unfamiliar, run-down neighborhood, memories of her childhood home flooding back.

Back then, their yard had a swimming pool. In summer, she and her brother would splash around, rushing to greet their father’s car as it pulled into the driveway. He would crouch down, kiss them, scoop up her brother, and hold her hand as they walked inside. Their mother would be arranging flowers in the living room, while the maid prepared dinner for the family.

Those had been happy days. But now, everything was gone.

Lin Yanyan buried her face in her arms. Life had become a struggle—sometimes, she didn’t even have the time or energy to grieve, let alone reminisce. She rose, returned home, and stepped back into the harsh reality that had replaced her fairy-tale past.

The next morning, as she headed to work, she ran into Aunt Wang, her neighbor, who was on her way out to buy groceries.

"Yanyan, your dad came by yesterday," Aunt Wang said. "Brought you a cake for your birthday. He waited ages, but you never showed up, so he left when it got too late. I kept the cake here, and last night, when I saw someone bring you home, I had your friend take it inside. Did you see it?"

Lin Yanyan gave a vague nod. "Aunt Wang, please don’t keep anything he sends over anymore."

"Why not?"

"No reason. Just don’t. I’ll talk to him about it."

Aunt Wang looked puzzled, but Lin Yanyan bid her farewell and rushed off to work. The hangover, coupled with her midnight stroll, had left her barely able to get up that morning. Her office was far, and she was already running late.

As she neared the building, she checked her watch—she was definitely going to be late. For a newcomer with zero sales and on the verge of being let go, punctuality was non-negotiable.

When she’d returned to A City from the coastal city, she’d given up her original field of study to pursue venture capital sales, lured by the promise of high performance and high rewards. It was the only way to secure a better life for her and her brother. Jinghui Company had been her only opportunity, and she wasn’t about to let it slip away.

She sprinted into the building, only to find the elevator lobby packed with people. Drawing on her experience, she dashed for the emergency stairs and power-walked up five flights, waiting on the fifth floor.

The fifth floor housed a gaming company—IT guys with erratic schedules, and lax management, apparently. At this hour, only their employees hogged the elevators. Lin Yanyan waited a few minutes, and sure enough, the fastest elevator arrived, disgorging a crowd of disheveled, half-asleep programmers, some even in cosplay. A stark contrast to her polished, energized appearance.

Just as she prepared to step in, the elevator doors suddenly closed. She reflexively reached out to stop them, and someone inside must have noticed—thankfully, the doors reopened. She hurried inside and mumbled a quick, "Thank you!"

"You’re welcome," a calm voice replied.

She looked up—and her breath caught.

The elevator was empty except for one man: tall, impeccably dressed, with a composed, authoritative presence.

It was Jing Chen.

In A City’s business circles, there was no one who didn’t know Jing Chen. As the eldest son of Jinghui Group’s chairman, he’d studied abroad for years, worked on Wall Street, and risen to a senior position before returning to take over the family business. Jinghui Group had grown through internet ventures—e-commerce, online payments, B2B—all with solid footing. Only recently, seeing the rise of venture capital, had they ventured into the field, establishing Jinghui Venture Capital.

Rumors said Jing Chen had initially opposed the move into this unfamiliar industry, but the board had insisted, and he’d complied. By the time he returned from Wall Street, Jinghui Venture Capital was already a mess—just as he’d predicted. Still, out of family duty, he’d taken the reins. Under his leadership, the company had improved slightly, but the downward trend remained unstoppable.

All of this was high-level concern. As a lowly employee, Lin Yanyan was just grateful for the chance Jinghui Venture Capital had given her to break into the industry. More importantly, her boss was someone she deeply admired—so much so that being alone with him in an elevator made her hands tremble. She clutched her bag tightly, trying to steady herself.

Lin Yanyan stood near the elevator buttons, while Jing Chen positioned himself toward the back. The silence between them was palpable as the elevator shot upward.

She hadn’t expected the IT guys to take up the entire elevator—by the time they disembarked, only Jing Chen remained. And she hadn’t expected the usually elusive boss to be punctual today.

Should she greet him? With over two hundred employees at Jinghui Venture Capital, and only eighty or so in the office on any given day, he probably wouldn’t remember her. Why risk embarrassing herself by revealing her identity? But what if he did know who she was?

Lin Yanyan hesitated, stealing glances at his reflection in the elevator’s polished steel panels. His tailored suit, sleek hair, and polished shoes exuded an air of refined authority that made her nerves jangle.

When the elevator stopped at the thirty-fifth floor, it dawned on her—Jinghui Venture Capital occupied the thirty-fifth and thirty-sixth floors, the entire space renovated into offices. Following him up here meant only one thing: she was an employee of Jinghui Venture Capital.

Before the doors opened, she spun around and bowed slightly. "Good morning, President Jing. I’m Lin Yanyan from Sales."

The elevator dinged to a stop. They both froze—she lowered her head, he stood straight, neither moving nor speaking. One second passed. Two. Three. When she finally looked up, she found him studying her, his chiseled features as flawless as a marble statue.

He was so young—eighteen when he’d gone to America, twenty-one when he’d started working there while studying, twenty-seven when he’d become a senior executive, twenty-nine when he’d returned to China. Now, at thirty-one, he was already the CEO of Jinghui Group and president of Jinghui Venture Capital. His résumé was the stuff of legend.

Lin Yanyan stared, momentarily forgetting herself—until she thought she saw him smirk. Then, with effortless grace, he said, "Good morning," and stepped out.

She remained frozen, utterly starstruck, until the elevator doors began to close. Panicked, she lunged forward—only to nearly get her hand caught. Thankfully, Jing Chen glanced back and pressed the button to reopen them, saving her. She mumbled another thanks, and he simply nodded, adding, "Be more careful next time."

Lin Yanyan felt a mix of relief and gratitude. Bowing respectfully, she watched him stride away, calm and composed. He knocked on the project manager’s door, and the manager rushed out, exclaiming, "President Jing? What brings you here? You didn’t have to come personally!"

Whatever he said, the two disappeared down the hall.

Lin Yanyan sighed, her heart sinking at the absence of that elegant figure. Habitually, she checked her watch—then nearly jumped out of her skin. She bolted to the office and swiped her fingerprint to clock in.

Corporate changes happened fast—sometimes, they’d been brewing for a while, unbeknownst to the lower-level staff. The first shock of the day came when she learned Jinghui Venture Capital was being sold. Jinghui Group had offloaded it to AIV Group, and their representatives would be visiting the next afternoon for an inspection.

"Yanyan, you’re so out of the loop," a colleague scoffed. "AIV’s people are coming, and you didn’t even know? But it’s not your fault—you’re new. We heard rumors six months ago, but the higher-ups and HR kept it under wraps. Now that it’s public, it’s a done deal. Just like President Jing’s style!"

The news spread quickly, and the office buzzed with discussion.

"Jinghui Venture Capital was already a mess. Sure, President Jing managed to stabilize it these past two years, but it was still on life support. Selling to AIV is the best move—they’re a joint venture with international backing, a leader in venture capital. At least we’ll have a safety net now!"

As her colleagues lamented, Lin Yanyan could only process the shock. Then her phone rang—her sales manager’s voice: "Lin Yanyan, HR wants you. Head to their office."