Chapter 82 p1
The bright overhead light cast their shadows onto the wicker coffee table, one standing tall, the other leaning forward, their intertwined silhouettes a strangely intimate tableau against the backdrop of the otherwise sterile office environment.
The door to the small lounge was ajar, and Xu Jinnan could easily see into the main office if she looked up.
Shen Shu’s shirt wasn’t transparent, so she wasn’t wearing a camisole underneath, only a bra with simple white lace trim, which Xu Jinnan had glimpsed on the balcony earlier.
Xu Jinnan leaned in, pressing her lips against the soft skin just above Shen Shu’s collarbone, leaving a faint red mark.
The scent of milk from Shen Shu’s shower gel mingled with the sweet fragrance of her vanilla pheromones, a scent Xu Jinnan had thought she wouldn’t be able to smell after the pheromone blockers.
Then she remembered; the slow-release blockers didn’t completely eliminate her sensitivity, only dulled it, reducing the intensity of Shen Shu’s pheromones to a manageable level, no longer triggering her rut.
But in that moment, she felt a surge of… greed.
A flicker of fear, the realization that one day, she might not be able to smell Shen Shu’s scent at all.
“Mm…” Shen Shu murmured, her hand still resting on Xu Jinnan’s shoulder, feeling the light pressure of her lips against her skin.
After a moment, Xu Jinnan looked up, her eyes dark and intense, drawing Shen Shu in.
She clicked her tongue, her voice slightly husky. “It’s so faint,” she said, seemingly dissatisfied.
Shen Shu, her cheeks flushing slightly, glanced down at the mark, barely visible, a pale imprint of Xu Jinnan’s lips, the lipstick a matte shade, not a glossy stain.
“But your lipstick is still quite dark,” she retorted.
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
Shen Shu’s gaze lingered on Xu Jinnan’s lips, her thumb gently tracing the outline of her lower lip, smudging the lipstick slightly.
Like a playful caress.
Xu Jinnan’s head was tilted back slightly, her eyes half-closed against the bright light, her expression languid and alluring.
“What are you doing?” she murmured.
“Just… experimenting,” Shen Shu replied, her fingertip tracing the line of Xu Jinnan’s lower lip again, then gently flicking it.
A playful smile touched her lips.
Xu Jinnan: “…”
Experimenting with smudging my lipstick?
“I have to go,” Shen Shu said, hearing a notification from her phone on the desk.
She was about to stand up, but Xu Jinnan, her eyes darkening slightly, pulled her back, Shen Shu landing on her lap.
Xu Jinnan looked at her for a moment, her phone vibrating insistently in Shen Shu’s hand. She was going to be late.
Shen Shu quickly stood up, grabbing her phone and heading towards the door.
“Your… clothes,” Xu Jinnan said, gesturing towards her slightly disheveled shirt.
Shen Shu paused at the doorway, adjusting her clothes. “It’s your fault,” she muttered.
Xu Jinnan raised an eyebrow, a smile playing on her lips. “You were the one who suggested I kiss you somewhere else. And I didn’t go too far,” she retorted.
Shen Shu glared at her, and Xu Jinnan chuckled. “Fine, it’s my fault,” she said, then watched as Shen Shu left, her gaze lingering on her retreating figure, then slowly traveling downwards, before she lay back down on the massage chair, closing her eyes.
She could still smell Shen Shu’s pheromones, her body still reacting to their subtle allure.
But perhaps in a few years, a few months, even sooner, she would lose that connection.
The thought made her turn her head, her gaze fixed on the world outside the window, the unchanging cityscape a stark contrast to the turmoil within her.
A strange calmness settled over her.
—
Shen Shu returned to the set, and two hours later, during a break, Tong Jia placed a plate of fruit cake in front of her. “CEO Xu brought this back this afternoon. Want some?”
Shen Shu took a couple of bites with a small fork. “I gained a little weight this morning. Trying to be more disciplined,” she explained.
“How much?”
“A couple of ounces.”
Tong Jia: “?”
“You’re amazing. I suddenly feel inadequate as your agent,” she muttered. Her artist was more disciplined than she was.
“CEO Xu brought this because she thinks you’re not eating enough,” Tong Jia said, taking a large bite of the cake. “It’s quite sweet, though. Maybe it’s all the lovey-dovey energy you two are exuding.”
Shen Shu’s lips curved into a faint smile at her words, then she looked up and saw Xia Chun approaching, holding a script.
Xia Chun’s gaze softened as she saw the smile on Shen Shu’s face, then she quickly composed herself. “Would you mind going over the next scene with me? I think there’s another way to deliver those lines,” she said, smiling.
She had been more reserved since that late-night phone call, the sounds she had heard, the imagined scene of Shen Shu and Xu Jinnan together, making her question her own assumptions.
Was she truly better than Xu Jinnan?
Her past hesitation, her indecisiveness, had been the catalyst for Shen Shu’s pain.
If she hadn’t gone abroad, if she had known about Shen Shu’s grandmother’s death, if she had been there for Shen Shu, if she hadn’t listened to her agency and maintained her “single” persona… if she had been more vigilant that day, less complacent, if she had warned Shen Shu about the stalker…
If she had been more decisive…
Would things have been different?
But there were no second chances.
She couldn’t deny Shen Shu’s feelings for Xu Jinnan, but she had refused to accept it, clinging to the belief that it was just an act.
It had been nothing but denial, fueled by jealousy and regret.
Acknowledging her own flaws, she realized she wasn’t any better than Xu Jinnan.
At least Xu Jinnan had been there for Shen Shu when she needed her.
While she still felt a pang of regret, she knew she couldn’t force Shen Shu’s feelings, or her own.
She loved Shen Shu, but Shen Shu didn’t love her anymore.
A bittersweet ache lingered in her heart, but it was overshadowed by a sense of acceptance, and a lingering regret for her past actions.
Her hostility towards Xu Jinnan had been a mistake. If Xu Jinnan had truly been a bad person, wouldn’t her actions have harmed Shen Shu?
“Of course,” Shen Shu replied, picking up her script. Tong Jia brought a chair for Xia Chun, and they sat side by side, a comfortable distance between them.
The scene was surprisingly harmonious.
Ten minutes later, Shen Shu put down the script. “I think the second version is better. Your character is more assertive, and my initial reaction should also be more forceful…” she explained, then asked, “What do you think, Xia Chun?”
Xia Chun nodded. “I’m glad you agree. I was worried I was being too subjective. I’ll talk to Director Zhang about it,” she said.
“Okay,” Shen Shu replied.
As she closed the script, it slipped from her hand, and Xia Chun, bending down to pick it up, almost bumped into her.
Tan Jie, watching them from a distance, her eyes narrowed slightly.
“Don’t you think there’s something going on between them?” she asked her assistant.
“Shen Shu and Xia Chun? They do seem close. Shen Shu seems fine, but Xia Chun… I think she’s quite fond of Shen Shu,” the assistant replied, puzzled.
Tan Jie smiled faintly. “Fond? Is there such a thing as platonic affection between an Alpha and an Omega?”
—
Mid-November.
Xu Jinnan received news that Xu Tao had used 15% of his shares as collateral for the Y1 Project.
It was the Xu Corporation’s biggest project yet, and he would be devoting most of his energy to it.
Using shares as collateral for investments was a common practice in the business world.
Xu Tao intended to use the profits from the North District project and the previous one to recoup his losses, but the Y1 Project was a long-term investment, requiring time and resources before any returns could be expected.
But Xu Jinnan knew the Y1 Project would soon be put on hold, meaning Xu Tao wouldn’t be getting those shares back.
And if the North District project, under Xu Li’s management, also encountered problems…
The Xu Corporation’s cash flow would be severely strained, forcing Xu Tao to use even more assets and shares as collateral.
And Xu Jinnan had plenty of liquid assets, more than anyone knew.
This was all part of her plan.
But she hadn’t anticipated this.
She received news of Xu Tao’s sudden illness on her way home from work.
It was Lu Yun who called.
Her voice was unusually calm as she delivered the news – Xu Tao had suffered a heart attack and was in critical condition.
Xu Jinnan’s first reaction was surprise.
Xu Tao was tall and seemingly healthy.
A sudden heart attack seemed strange. Perhaps he wasn’t as strong as he appeared?
She messaged Shen Shu, saying she would be late, then turned the car around and headed towards the hospital, the same one where Professor Qin worked.
It wasn’t Xu Tao’s usual hospital.
Lu Yun and Xu Li were already there, waiting outside the emergency room. Xu Li didn’t acknowledge her, but Lu Yun pulled her aside.
“I don’t know how Xu Li found out so quickly,” she whispered, her voice low and urgent. “Nannan, what are you going to do? You have 14% of the shares now, the second largest shareholder. You have to be prepared. What if Xu Tao…”
Xu Jinnan’s hand turned cold as she listened to Lu Yun’s words, her earlier surprise replaced by a growing unease.
The timing of Xu Tao’s illness was too convenient… A chilling thought crossed her mind.
She nodded at Lu Yun, her thoughts racing.
Then, she felt a cold gaze on her and turned to see Xu Li, her eyes like a venomous snake’s.
—
Half an hour later, the emergency room doors opened.
“The surgery was successful,” the doctor announced.
While it concerned a human life, Xu Jinnan felt strangely detached, almost indifferent.
He deserved it.
But glancing at Lu Yun, she saw a flicker of something deeper in her eyes, a profound sense of… disappointment.
Standing close to her, she heard Lu Yun murmur, “What a shame.”
Lu Yun hated Xu Tao even more than the original Xu Jinnan did.
Xu Tao was transferred to the ICU, under constant observation.
Outside the ICU, within minutes, several of the Xu Corporation’s major shareholders arrived.
“How did you find out?!” Lu Yun demanded.
“Mrs. Lu, this isn’t the time. What’s CEO Xu’s condition? You have to tell us something,” one of the shareholders said.
“Yes, the company depends on him! What will happen to the Xu Corporation if…” Their voices rose in a chorus of anxious questions.
The commotion drew the attention of a nurse, who asked them to be quiet.
Xu Jinnan, watching the scene, wondered what Xu Tao’s reaction would be if he saw this. Even now, no one seemed genuinely concerned about his well-being, only their own interests.
“Calm down! I’m still here, and so is Nannan! Even if something happens, you don’t have to worry!” Lu Yun said coldly.
“But Miss Xu, while she’s doing well with her own ventures, the Xu Corporation has always been managed by CEO Xu and Second Miss,” one of the shareholders said.
“And all the major projects are currently under Second Miss’s supervision.”
“Mrs. Lu, this concerns the future of the Xu Corporation. You can’t just say such things,” another shareholder added.
Just then, Xu Li stepped forward, her eyes red-rimmed. “Thank you all for your concern. I just want my father to wake up. I can’t handle this alone. I’m so grateful for your support…”
Xu Jinnan and Lu Yun exchanged a look.
Xu Li had called them.
Lu Yun was about to speak, but Xu Jinnan stopped her. “Everyone’s just worried. My father is out of danger. He’ll be back at the company after some rest. There’s no need to panic,” she said, her voice calm and reassuring.
“But the company needs someone in charge while he recovers. We should appoint an acting CEO to prevent any chaos,” she added.
The shareholders nodded in agreement.
“Mrs. Lu, Miss Xu, if you have any objections, we can hold a shareholders’ meeting and vote,” one of them suggested.
Lu Yun’s face hardened, but she maintained her composure.
“Let’s do that then,” she said coldly.
With Xu Jinnan’s 14% stake, she had enough influence to force a vote. This was what she had been waiting for.
She stood beside Lu Yun, playing the role of the obedient daughter, listening to their discussion, while observing Xu Li’s reactions.
Perhaps sensing her gaze, Xu Li glanced at her, a cold, smug smile playing on her lips.
—
