Chapter 49: What Would You Do?

The next day, the workday quickly turned hectic.

A cup of coffee sat idle by her hand, its rich aroma drifting past her nose.

Too preoccupied to savor it, Lu Huan kept her gaze fixed on the screen, her fingertips flying across the keyboard. She even fielded a few calls without missing a beat.

Most of the morning slipped by in a whirlwind of tasks.

When things finally quieted down, she leaned back against her chair and swiveled it around.

The hazy scene from last night lingered vividly before her eyes.

The silken touch of soft skin, the seductive moans whispering in her ear, the intoxicating slickness that drew her in. It was absurd, yet utterly mesmerizing.

Once it was over, Lu Huan had retreated to her own room.

She had always despised people who left things half-finished, yet she hadn’t imagined she would turn into one of them last night.

Exhaustion had kept her awake until late, and when she rose that morning, Bai Jin was still asleep. Lu Huan loaded breakfast into the rice cooker to keep warm, left a note with some instructions, and slipped back into her usual routine.

But she suspected that, given Bai Jin’s temperament, she’d need to do some soothing when she returned home tonight.

And the real business at hand? She could ease it onto the agenda bit by bit.

That promised trip to the aquarium over the weekend might serve as a perfect opening.

Lu Huan pursed her lips, lost in thought, until a knock at the door shattered her reverie.

“President Lu, President Lin from the Lin Group is here to see you.”

Typical Lin Ting—barging in without so much as a hello. Lu Huan pulled up a file at random. “Let her in.”

Zuo You stepped out upon receiving the go-ahead, and moments later, a woman in loose slacks and a blazer strolled in. Her lustrous hair tumbled freely over her shoulders, her red lips vivid and alluring.

“A rare visitor.”

Lu Huan didn’t so much as glance up.

Lin Ting settled into the seat across from her, unfazed by the blatant disregard. Instead, her eyes zeroed in on Lu Huan’s neck.

Lu Huan’s habit was to leave the top two buttons undone, but after yesterday, she’d fastened them deliberately today. Even so, she couldn’t fully conceal the red marks peeking above her collar.

Those telltale crimson imprints blazed against her porcelain skin, impossible to miss for Lin Ting’s keen gaze.

She curved her lips into a smirk. “Well, well—where did you get up to some spring frolics yesterday?”

Lu Huan flicked her a sidelong glance, plainly too indolent to reply.

Lin Ting felt the dismissal like a rolled-eye retort, even without a word spoken.

“Looks like your weekend was quite indulgent, Little President Lu.”

“Cut the chatter.” Lu Huan shoved the file aside. “Out with it. What’s this about?”

A competitor dropping by the office uninvited? Nothing good could come of it.

“Just dropping in to see you—I missed you—” Lin Ting’s teasing trailed off as Lu Huan leveled a withering glare her way.

She pivoted smoothly. “Fine, fine. Can’t handle a little ribbing, can you?”

“Nothing urgent, anyway. I was in the area after checking some business, so I swung by. Oh, and to follow up on that thing from last time.”

Lu Huan arched a brow. “Hong Shuo?”

That had to be it.

Lin Ting hummed confirmation.

“I’ve kept an eye on it for you. After he got out, his ex-wife’s lawsuit is progressing smoothly.”

Lu Huan paused, meeting her eyes. “But… you pulled some strings behind the scenes on that case, didn’t you?”

“Something like that. I just planted a couple of top-notch lawyers to give it a nudge.” Lin Ting shrugged it off.

Lu Huan pressed, “You put in all that effort—why not just take the whole thing off your plate back then?”

Lin Ting gave another shrug. “Persuading someone to divorce works best from a familiar face. Where would I fit in, given my position?”

“Fair enough.”

Lu Huan knew the backstory all too well. Lin Ting’s father had cheated when she was a child; her mother had endured it for her sake until her untimely death, never managing a divorce. It was a scar that ran deep—Lin Ting couldn’t abide women suffering in silence within a marriage.

Once she learned of Hong Shuo’s mess, she’d maneuvered Lu Huan into stepping in to counsel his ex-wife.

“That guy’s nothing special, but when he went off the deep end last time, he hurt someone tangentially connected to me. I’ve felt rotten about it.”

“So this visit’s your apology?” Lu Huan pieced it together. “Why tell me? It wasn’t me injured. Apologies go to the victim.”

“Besides, nobody knows publicly that you’re involved.”

Lin Ting waved dismissively. “Aw, just let me peek and see she’s okay. It’ll salve my conscience.”

“She didn’t come in today.”

“Didn’t come?” Lin Ting probed further. “When’s she due back?”

Lu Huan looked up. “Try the Lu Family.”

“Back at the Lu Family already?” Lin Ting’s brows shot up, intrigue sparking. She hadn’t anticipated that.

Lu Huan pinned her with a steady stare. “Lin Ting.”

Lin Ting blinked, realizing her slip too late.

“Tsk—” She locked eyes with Lu Huan for a beat, then tossed her hair with a grin. “Busted. You got me.”

“What’s your game?” Lu Huan knew Lin Ting never acted without purpose—be it personal vendetta or something she coveted. She wasted no energy on frivolities.

She’d identified the injured party as Bai Jin and uncovered her Lu Family ties.

Thorough legwork; Lin Ting hadn’t been slacking.

Lin Ting abandoned the charade.

“Honestly… Lu Huan.”

She propped her hip against the desk’s edge, leaning in slow and deliberate, her captivating gaze plunging into Lu Huan’s ink-dark eyes.

Lips hooking into a sultry smile, she purred, “What if I said I’ve set my sights on her?”

“What would you do?”

—

By the time Bai Jin emerged from her room to freshen up that morning, Lu Huan had been gone for hours.

She’d barely reached the living room when Momo shot out of its cat bed and scampered over, meowing insistently at her feet.

“Hungry?” Bai Jin knelt, running a hand along its back.

“Meow~”

The plaintive cry said yes. Bai Jin retrieved cat food from the living room cabinet—the spot Lu Huan had pointed out, stocked meticulously with kibble, freeze-dried treats, toy sticks, everything a cat could need, all neatly arrayed.

She measured out a portion.

“Dig in.”

She tipped it into the bowl, and Momo dove right in.

While it ate, Bai Jin gave it one last stroke, then headed to the kitchen to wash up. That’s when she spotted the note taped to the rice cooker.

The handwriting slashed across the paper—bold, incisive, full of vigor.

[No white sugar added. Drink it while it’s hot.]

Peeking inside revealed porridge simmering on warm.

But Bai Jin scarcely registered the porridge. Her gaze dropped, fingers caressing the note, tracing the ink.

Lu Huan’s script hadn’t changed a whit.

Elegant yet forceful characters.

It had been the same in their childhood calligraphy classes—the teacher’s golden child.

Yet Qin Dian had rarely praised it.

Too wild, she’d say. Needs tempering. More poise.

Then she’d turn and laud Bai Jin’s own hand, declaring it the pinnacle to aspire toward.

A shadow flitted across Bai Jin’s face. She folded the note carefully and tucked it away.

Little by little, she was gathering Lu Huan’s things, keeping them safe.

“……”

Breakfast done and dishes cleared, Bai Jin donned a mask and stepped out.

A short distance from the complex, she pinpointed the car via GPS and slid inside.

The suited woman in the driver’s seat—clearly an assistant—glanced back as Bai Jin took the rear seat. “Little President Yan.”

Bai Jin’s hand stilled on the door. Her tone chilled. “Not that name outside.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

From the rearview mirror, the woman stole glances at her passenger: the black mask veiled the lower face, highlighting exquisite bone structure. Those visible eyes gleamed cold and forbidding, warding off approach.

Before she could venture a question, Bai Jin checked her phone. “This address. Sending it now.”

Message received, the assistant nodded.

The car pulled away, cityscape blurring past. Silence reigned; Bai Jin gazed out the window.

The assistant checked the mirror repeatedly before venturing, “Miss Bai, Sister Cui wants to know when you’ll return…”

A flicker lit Bai Jin’s eyes. “In a few days.”

Soon enough.

“She hopes you’ll come back promptly to assume management.”

“Mm. Understood.”

“……”

An hour and change later, they pulled up.

September had crept in; tree leaves yellowed, drifting down in fits with the breeze.

In the villa’s courtyard, Nanny Zhang swept at the fallen foliage.

She raked them into a pile just as a black car glided to the gate. Curious, she approached.

A young woman alighted, clutching a sealed stack of documents.

“Hello, may I ask who you are…?”

The mask hid her features. Bai Jin replied evenly, “President Lu sent me with these files. Please pass them along to her.”

“Oh, right—hand them over.” Nanny Zhang accepted the bundle.

“Thank you.”

Even as she spoke, Bai Jin’s eyes drifted past her, toward the villa interior.

Through the expansive floor-to-ceiling glass, the interior lay bare: a woman with disheveled black hair lounged indolently in flowing gray loungewear.

Coffee cup in hand, her focus pinned to her phone.

Her unadorned face was strikingly beautiful, her height rivaling Lu Huan’s, her figure echoing those lithe lines.

Her—the one living here all this time?

Bai Jin’s pupils narrowed to slits.

Nanny Zhang noticed her hesitation. “Miss? Anything else?”

Bai Jin seared the woman’s face into memory, then refocused. “No. Thanks again.”

She turned on her heel and departed. Nanny Zhang watched the black car whisk her away, then carried the documents inside.

At that moment, Xi Hangyu looked up and finally caught sight of the car’s taillights receding into the distance. She also noticed Nanny Zhang holding something in her hands.

“Nanny Zhang, did someone just come by outside?”

“Yes, a young lady dropped off some documents.” Nanny Zhang walked in with the files in hand. “Occasionally, people deliver things here. I’ll set these aside for Miss Lu first and let her know later.”

Lu Huan rarely came to this side of town, as it was simply too far away. Logically speaking, certain documents shouldn’t have been sent all the way over here.

But with her younger sister home alone lately, Lu Huan might have been uneasy about having them delivered straight to the house.

With that thought, it all made sense—and delivering a few files wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Still, Xi Hangyu couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was off, a strange sensation she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“Oh, I see.”

Xi Hangyu let her gaze linger for a moment on the spot where the car had vanished. She twirled the cup in her hand, then walked off while scrolling through her phone.

In the end, she didn’t dwell on it.