Chapter 12#
After a brief negotiation, the situation resolved into something simple: Ji Chen had a gambling addict for a father — and like every gambler, he lost nine times out of ten.
Owing money around the neighborhood, having people come to collect — his life was an endless loop of these two things.
Today happened to be a debt-collection day.
Fortunately, the two tattooed men who had been barking orders at Ji Chen’s father took one look at Yan Zishu and shifted immediately into courteous, ingratiating mode.
In terms of physical force: the sleeves he’d pushed back revealed forearms with a lean, clean musculature that suggested he was far from helpless. In terms of financial standing: his car, his clothes, and the effortless air of authority he wore all broadcast the words person of consequence without any need to say them aloud.
People who moved in rough circles also knew when to read the room.
Randomly picking a fight with someone who looked this obviously wealthy or well-connected was not a particularly shrewd course of action.
Yan Zishu asked: “How much does he owe?”
The two men said, with breezy nonchalance: “Not much — just ten thousand.”
Ji Chen’s voice came out barely above a whisper: “I can only give you five thousand… I have to keep the rest for next semester’s tuition.”
“Next semester’s still months away — plenty of time to earn it back,” Ji Chen’s father said helpfully, oozing goodwill.
Yan Zishu shot Ji Chen’s father a cold glance. The grinning middle-aged man shrank slightly.
But he pressed on with his suggestion: “How about this, Xiaochen — just borrow a bit from your friend here.”
Ji Chen’s voice jumped in alarm: “That’s not possible!”
In the end, it was Yan Zishu who went back to the car, retrieved some cash from the storage compartment, and sent the two tattooed men on their way.
Ji Chen’s father went upstairs looking pleased with himself. Ji Chen looked as though he was about to cry. “Assistant Yan — I can’t let you spend your money on this.”
Yan Zishu looked at this meek, put-upon expression and had nothing to say.
Though he had no particular standing to say anything regardless. This was someone else’s life. If the other person found this livable, then livable it was.
As for the money: “CEO Fu keeps some emergency cash in his car. So technically it isn’t mine. Consider yourself having benefited from his generosity.”
He added: “The situation called for flexibility. I used cash specifically because I didn’t want to leave these people an account number to trace. Don’t think too much about it.”
Upon hearing it was Fu Weishan’s money, Ji Chen’s expression complicated itself all over again. He hung his head and said nothing.
Yan Zishu said: “All right. Go on up and get home. I’ll be heading off — call me if anything comes up.”
Just before he left, something made him look back. Ji Chen was quietly wiping the corners of his eyes with his sleeve.
Ji Chen, embarrassed, said: “I just don’t want my mum to see…”
Yan Zishu let out a breath. In a rare moment of softheartedness, he opened the car door. “Come sit in the car for a bit. Get your face sorted before you go back in.”
*
“After my dad was fired from his job for gambling on mahjong, he never found steady work again. He’s at the parlor every day. The debts he runs up aren’t ever that large — just a few hundred here, a few thousand there — and we’ve always managed to pay them off when they come up. But my mum’s health isn’t good either; she needs a lot of medication, and that costs money. So sometimes it ends up like this, with people showing up at the door…”
As befitted the protagonist of any melodrama, Ji Chen had an unhappy family history: a chronically ill mother, a father enslaved to card games, and finances perpetually stretched to breaking point. He was the classic Cinderella type — waiting for the day a fairy godmother or a prince might arrive to rescue him.
Yan Zishu already knew most of this, so he listened with only half his attention.
“It really is only every once in a while. He’s fine most of the time.” Ji Chen insisted.
He had cried a moment ago out of a rush of shame and emotion, but he had calmed himself back down by now.
Having extended his goodwill this far, Yan Zishu permitted himself one additional remark. “People with gambling problems generally find it very hard to stop.”
Ji Chen looked up in surprised protest. “It’s not really — I mean, can you call it gambling? He’s just playing mahjong at the parlor.” He cast about for more to say: “And my dad has said plenty of times that he wants to change. If even the people closest to him can’t extend some understanding, who will?”
The saintly halo was practically blinding. Yan Zishu pulled a slight expression and let the subject drop.
That was as far as it could go. There was nothing useful left to add.
After a little while longer, Ji Chen prepared to get out of the car. Before he did, he declared: “I’ll pay the money back as soon as I can!”
Yan Zishu reverted to his conscientious assistant’s tone: “No need to rush. Take care of things at home first.”
*
Naturally, the matter of using the car’s emergency cash — and everything Yan Zishu had witnessed at the base of Ji Chen’s building — was reported to Fu Weishan in full, shortly afterward.
In truth, neither item was particularly significant. To someone with Fu Weishan’s wealth, what was ten thousand or so? He had never kept a mistress this cheaply in his life. Only now, wanting to play the romantic game, he chose to feign ignorance.
More than that: Fu Weishan found it rather convenient that Ji Chen should be placed in this kind of precarious position — eventually discovering he had nowhere to turn but to himself.
This perhaps reflected a lesson drawn from the Yuan Mu situation — the experience had left him feeling that a partner with her own claws was an unpleasant thing, and it was better to have those claws filed down in advance.
To put a charitable gloss on it, one might call it a controlling streak. To put it plainly — better not to say.
*
Yinghan Group continued its daily operations without interruption. Office workers came and went.
As for Fu Weishan — caring nothing for the old and keeping only his interest in the new — for the first time since the drama society production, he sent Ji Chen a bunch of roses, making no effort to be discreet about it.
Terribly clichéd, but tremendously conspicuous, and it furnished the company’s various private chat groups with a fresh round of material to chew on.
Ji Chen had just arrived at his workstation when he found an extravagant bouquet lying on his desk, complete with a card. His face went red, his heart pounded, and he immediately looked around him like someone caught in the act. Fortunately, Fu Weishan himself had not appeared in person — but the probing stares from everyone nearby were sharp enough on their own.
The whisper network ignited: “Does this count as going public? Is he CEO Fu’s boyfriend from now on?”
Others weighed in: “Going public? Please — that kid is clearly still stringing the CEO along.”
And still others: “Would a man like the CEO actually fall for something that obvious?”
The theories were many and various, and none of them had yet been confirmed.
That afternoon, following the lunch break, the Head of HR came to find Yan Zishu with a deeply uncomfortable expression. He explained that Ji Chen had committed yet another error in his work, and a complaint had been filed with the HR department. After the incident in the exhibition hall, Ji Chen had been moved again — this time to the marketing department, doing desk work. Apparently he had now mixed up a contract; fortunately, it was a small-scale procurement, so the losses were limited.
Still, it had caused real inconvenience. The colleagues who had cleaned up after him were visibly unenthused.
Under normal circumstances, an employee’s work error would simply be handled according to the employee handbook. The reason the HR director couldn’t bring himself to resolve it unilaterally and had come all the way to the chief assistant was the recent tide of whispers — “Ji Chen seems to be in great favor with CEO Fu,” “Ji Chen may or may not be Fu Weishan’s boyfriend.”
There was also another reason: the HR director had been Yan Zishu’s collaborator in extracting Ji Chen from the secretarial office in the first place. A co-conspirator, of a sort.
Who could have predicted, at the time, that all of this rather convoluted male-on-male business would follow?
He didn’t know whether he’d inadvertently offended the CEO. For now, all he could do was throw his lot in with Director Yan and see what happened.
The HR director explained the whole situation and waited for Yan Zishu to indicate which direction the wind was blowing, so he could get his footing.
He had no way of knowing that Yan Zishu’s position was the precise opposite of his expectations, and that he was about to act directly against his own interests.
At least Yan Zishu had enough self-awareness not to drag the HR director down with him.
According to the original plot, this “secretly-in-love” assistant, driven by jealousy, had devoted his every action to driving a wedge between the two leads.
He had chosen restraint with Yuan Mu. With Ji Chen, he would proceed as the story demanded.
Fu Weishan was away from the office for a couple of days due to a personal engagement — the HR director had specifically seized on this window. Yan Zishu made a show of checking his watch. “Got it. I’m a bit busy right now — tell the intern to come find me before end of day.”
The HR director thought: “The intern” — sounds pretty distant. Though who knows if that’s overcompensating.
He studied Yan Zishu’s expression cautiously. “That works. You have a word with him first, and then we can decide together how to handle it from there.”
Yan Zishu kept his face impassive. “Caring about an employee’s mental state is one thing. Handle it however you’re supposed to handle it.”
*
One hour before closing time, Ji Chen sat nervously in the small meeting room near the secretarial office.
Yan Zishu came in shortly after, pulled a chair around to the other side of the table, and sat across from him — watching, expression giving nothing away.
“There have been some concerns raised about your attitude toward work lately.” After a few seconds, he spoke. The original phrasing in the complaint had actually been stronger — lack of conscientiousness — but he softened it slightly. “Don’t be nervous. I just want to understand — have you been running into any difficulties on the job?”
“This one is completely my fault.” Ji Chen shook his head, disheartened. “I misfiled a contract. I’ll accept whatever disciplinary action the company decides.”
“Disciplinary action isn’t the point. What you owe is to yourself — and to your paycheck.”
“I know. I was careless.”
“Why is it only you who’s this careless?”
Ji Chen opened his mouth and found nothing to say. He’d never been a particularly detail-oriented person to begin with, and lately, with the distraction of Fu Weishan’s pursuit rattling around in his head, he’d been losing focus more easily — which had led to one mistake after another. His colleagues had in fact tolerated him for quite a long time before reaching their limit.
Yan Zishu said: “What we call carelessness is, in reality, a lack of accountability. An unwillingness to take responsibility. Would you say that’s fair?”
This was pointed, and not gentle. Ji Chen felt the sting of it. He opened his mouth, found no rebuttal, and closed it again.
In a slightly resigned tone, he said: “Whatever you say, you’re right. I’ll admit to whatever you want.”
Yan Zishu was about to say more when his phone buzzed. He glanced down — nothing significant, just a calendar reminder: tomorrow was the ribbon-cutting ceremony for Fu Jinchi’s new hotel.
He was about to lock the screen when, as if on cue, an actual call from Fu Jinchi came in.
Yan Zishu let it die after less than one ring, and continued: “You should be aware — the last time you violated protocol in the exhibition hall, it was only because of CEO Fu that no one pursued the matter further. But you can’t expect him to cover for you every time you make a mistake.”
“I don’t expect CEO Fu to cover for me!” Ji Chen said, with some heat. “I’m really not that kind of person, Assistant Yan!”
“Whether you admit it or not, that’s how it looks to everyone else.” Yan Zishu’s tone carried a cutting edge. “He’s pursuing you right now, and novelty makes him indulgent — of course he’ll overlook what you do. But from the perspective of everyone else who follows the rules, this is favoritism.”
“But I haven’t accepted his pursuit…”
“Even if you haven’t said so out loud — can you honestly claim you haven’t felt even a little bit pleased with yourself? That you haven’t enjoyed the privileges it’s brought?”
Behind his glasses, the look he gave Ji Chen was precise and direct, as though it were aimed straight at something interior. The words hit an unexpected mark.
Sexually, Ji Chen had never entertained the idea of being attracted to a man. His first instinct had been a flat no.
But socially — Fu Weishan was someone of towering standing, and that had quietly produced a small, private satisfaction:
To be pursued by someone like that, I must be special. Exceptional. Worthy of being loved.
So the rejection was not entirely complete, either. Which left him deeply conflicted.
Ji Chen bit his lip. His dark hair lay soft against his forehead. The startled, cornered look on his face was rather endearing — unfortunate that it was wasted on the wrong audience.
“In any case, go back and give it some reflection. Bring me a written statement.” Yan Zishu leaned back. “That’s all for now on this matter. The HR department will issue whatever disciplinary action they see fit — take it as a lesson. But the things that do need thinking through — think them through properly.”
That last sentence had a weight to it that Ji Chen couldn’t quite place. He was still turning it over in his head as he left.
After Ji Chen had gone, Yan Zishu sat for a while in quiet thought. Then, as he himself was getting up to leave, a persistent message arrived from Fu Jinchi: Did I interrupt a meeting earlier? If daytime isn’t convenient, I’ll call you tonight.
At the time, Yan Zishu assumed this was about confirming the arrangements for the ribbon-cutting ceremony.
That was already settled — Fu Weishan had indeed said “you go,” as predicted — so Yan Zishu called Fu Jinchi back.
He had not anticipated that Fu Jinchi would open with that characteristic tone of someone watching a drama from the best seat in the house: “I know Assistant Yan is a busy man, and may not always have time to follow the news — so I thought I’d drop you a word of warning. Have you seen the trending search about Yuan Mu’s pregnancy?”