Chapter 95
It was past 3 a.m.
Shen Shu, her head resting on Xu Jinnan’s shoulder, clearly needed another shower.
Shen Shu was exhausted, her body limp, and Xu Jinnan, her mind still slightly hazy, gently carried her to the bathroom and helped her wash off.
Back in the bedroom, Xu Jinnan glanced at the time and sighed. “You have to leave in twenty minutes. Don’t do this again,” she murmured.
“Do what?”
“…” Xu Jinnan’s fingers gently traced the curve of Shen Shu’s ribs. “You’re becoming increasingly… demanding.” That hadn’t been what she meant at all.
Shen Shu chuckled softly. “I learned it from you.”
“I haven’t taught you anything,” Xu Jinnan retorted, but Shen Shu, nuzzling against her shoulder, simply said, “You have.”
This playful, almost childish side of Shen Shu was a rare sight, one she only showed to Xu Jinnan.
“My back aches. Rub it for me,” she murmured, her arms tightening around Xu Jinnan’s waist.
Xu Jinnan’s hand moved to Shen Shu’s lower back, her fingers finding the pressure points. “You planned this, didn’t you?” she asked, her voice a husky whisper. She had been half-asleep just moments ago.
Shen Shu’s cheeks flushed slightly, but her voice remained calm. “So what if I did?” she asked, then, her tone softening, added, “Didn’t you like it?”
Xu Jinnan paused. She did, of course.
In her original world, there were no Alphas or Omegas, and while she hadn’t experienced such intimacy before, it felt… natural, though her own nature, her dominant personality, preferred to be in control.
And sometimes, with Shen Shu taking the lead, her Alpha instincts would rebel, a primal urge to assert her dominance, to reverse their positions.
But she could control it, suppress the urge, allowing Shen Shu to take the lead, to dictate the rhythm of their intimacy.
If it made Shen Shu happy, what did it matter?
“As long as you’re happy,” she murmured.
“I am,” Shen Shu replied, then, after a moment, added, “And I want more.”
Xu Jinnan: “…?”
Shen Shu’s face nuzzled against Xu Jinnan’s neck, her arms tightening around her.
“This is nice, Xu Jinnan,” she whispered.
“What is?”
“This… us. It’s nice.”
–
Shen Shu only dozed for about ten minutes before getting up and getting ready.
At 4 a.m., Xu Jinnan drove her downstairs.
The sky was still dark, a hazy gray, the cool morning air carrying the scent of damp earth and leaves.
It was a chilly autumn morning.
Xu Jinnan, worried Shen Shu might be cold, wrapped a black cashmere scarf around her neck before they left the apartment.
They stopped a few feet from the car.
“Let me know when you arrive,” Xu Jinnan said.
Shen Shu, in heels, looked up at her, her face, framed by the scarf, small and delicate.
“Okay.”
Xu Jinnan gently ruffled her hair. “Go on. Try to get some sleep in the car.”
Shen Shu looked at her, her sleepy eyes narrowing slightly. “That’s it?”
Xu Jinnan smiled faintly, opening her arms. “Want a hug?” she asked, then, as Shen Shu stepped closer, pulled her into a warm embrace, their bodies close, the coolness of the morning air momentarily forgotten.
“If you’re too tired, just rest. Don’t push yourself. Your health is more important than anything else,” she whispered.
“I know. I’m just… tired,” Shen Shu murmured against her shoulder.
Xu Jinnan chuckled softly. “Whose fault is that?”
–
Tong Jia, peeking out from the front seat, rolled her eyes.
Seriously?
Her day was starting with a public display of affection at 4 a.m.
Their Shu Shu, usually so aloof and reserved, was like a cuddly kitten around Xu Jinnan.
And Xu Jinnan, usually so cool and collected, seemed to lose all her composure in Shen Shu’s presence, her usual sharp wit and playful teasing replaced by a gentle tenderness.
Tong Jia couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy.
A powerful Alpha and a sweet Omega, a match made in heaven.
She voiced her thoughts as soon as Shen Shu got into the van, and Shen Shu, taking off her scarf, her voice slightly hoarse, asked, “Why does it always have to be a powerful Alpha and a sweet Omega?”
Tong Jia chuckled. “What? Is your…” she began, then paused, her eyes widening. “Don’t tell me CEO Xu is the… submissive one?!”
Shen Shu, seeing her shocked expression, her eagerness for gossip, said calmly, “I’m just saying, it’s always ‘powerful Alpha, sweet Omega.’ You rarely hear anything else.”
“Oh, I thought you meant… you were the powerful Alpha and she was the sweet Omega,” Tong Jia said, then burst out laughing, lowering her voice. “That happens too, of course, but it’s rare. You two should try it… some couples like to… switch things up. But don’t tell Xu Jinnan I suggested it! I don’t want to die.”
Shen Shu: “…”
Tong Jia, picturing the usually dominant Xu Jinnan being… dominated, felt a thrill of excitement. “Speaking of which, it reminds me of that novel Little Bunny wrote, The Domineering CEO’s Captivity Diary,” she said.
Shen Shu coughed, looking out the window, not wanting to continue the conversation, her mind replaying the events of an hour ago, the memory of Xu Jinnan’s flushed face and ragged breathing, her body pressed against Shen Shu’s, the tangled sheets…
Xu Jinnan had been completely passive, her restraint evident, yet she had still responded to Shen Shu’s touch, following her lead.
Shen Shu suddenly felt a little breathless, the air in the van feeling heavy and close.
–
After dropping Shen Shu off, Xu Jinnan went back to the apartment and slept for a few hours, then woke up with no appetite, forcing herself to eat some toast and milk.
She had a meeting with a potential investor and arrived at the office at 9 a.m.
The meeting didn’t go well, and after the investor left, she tossed the documents aside in frustration.
“They’re quite demanding, aren’t they?” she said, her voice calm despite the redness in her eyes, her expression unreadable.
“Their asking price is 10% higher than our initial offer. Why did you tell them you would consider it?” Viola asked, genuinely puzzled.
Xu Jinnan’s business acumen and decision-making skills were, in her opinion, unparalleled.
“As long as their product is unique and irreplaceable, it’s worth investing in. We shouldn’t focus solely on the current price, but rather on its long-term potential and sustainability,” Xu Jinnan explained calmly.
It was the same principle as investing in the stock market. If the long-term returns justified the higher price, it was a worthwhile investment. Of course, it also depended on your judgment.
“There’s always a risk. You could be wrong, and then you’ll lose everything,” she added, tapping her fingers on the desk. Every business decision was a gamble.
Viola nodded. “Thank you for the lesson, CEO Xu.”
Xu Jinnan smiled faintly, placing her phone on the desk. “You can go now,” she said, then adjusted her Bluetooth earbuds. “Are you listening? Do you understand?” she asked, speaking to Cai Ying, who was on the other end of the line.
“Of course I understand!” Cai Ying replied.
“While you’re not directly involved in investments yet, the principles are the same,” Xu Jinnan said, then, after a moment, added, “If you’re not going to say anything, I’m not wasting my breath.”
“I’m taking notes!” Cai Ying exclaimed, and Xu Jinnan could hear the sound of pen scratching against paper.
“Xu Jinnan, you’re amazing! You were so cool just now! I wish I could be like you someday,” Cai Ying said, her voice full of admiration.
“You will be,” Xu Jinnan replied.
“Wow, a genuine compliment! That’s rare,” Cai Ying said, her voice teasing.
“…You’ll be amazing… in your dreams,” Xu Jinnan retorted.
Cai Ying: “…”
Xu Jinnan, listening to her grumbling, checked her phone, two new notifications popping up. Her smile faltered slightly.
Mr. Han had passed away.
And Han Wenling had taken over the Han Corporation.
–
At the hospital, the hallway outside the VIP ward was filled with the sounds of grief and anger, the Han family and their close relatives gathered, the spacious room feeling crowded.
“How could you do this to us?! Don’t you care about me, about Wenfang, about Xiaohui?! You promised me you would leave the company to Wenfang! Why did you lie to me?!” It was Han Wenfang’s mother, her voice shrill with grief and anger.
Han Wenfang’s eyes were red-rimmed, her face pale with shock and disbelief. It should have been hers, the company, the inheritance, but at the last moment, her father, the one who had always doted on her, had given it all to Han Wenling.
Just because of a few bad investments…
Even Han Hui was crying.
Everyone was consumed by their own emotions.
Only Han Wenling’s expression remained impassive as she stared at the flatline on the heart monitor, then quietly left the room.
She hadn’t seen him before he died, hadn’t even been there when it happened. The lawyer had simply informed her – her father had left the Han Corporation to her.
Her plan to undermine Han Wenfang had succeeded.
None of the shareholders had supported her.
Her father had seemingly been forced by the board to make this decision.
But she knew it hadn’t been his true intention. He had simply seen Han Wenfang’s incompetence and had been afraid for her future, for the future of his beloved second family.
She went to the fire escape and lit a cigarette, the smoke curling upwards, then dissipating in the wind, disappearing without a trace.
She had gotten what she wanted.
The entire Han family would be at her mercy now.
But she didn’t feel any joy, only a strange emptiness, a sense of detachment as she looked out at the city below, the sounds of grief a distant echo.
She suddenly felt incredibly lonely, as if she didn’t belong here, and the image of Cai Ying’s bright, cheerful face flashed through her mind…
She extinguished her cigarette and opened her WeChat, finding “Little Bunny” in her contact list.
Cai Ying had unfriended her, blocked her on every platform.
She scrolled through their chat history, the messages like drops of water in a pool, once full, now slowly draining away.
–
Xu Jinnan received Han Wenling’s call just after talking to Cai Ying.
“CEO Xu, I need to see her,” Han Wenling said, her voice low.
Xu Jinnan, still in the meeting room, leaned back in her chair, her voice cool and indifferent. “Whether or not she sees you is Cai Ying’s decision. Why are you asking me?”
Han Wenling was silent for a moment. “I just want to see her. Please, help me,” she said, her voice soft, almost pleading.
Xu Jinnan was surprised. Han Wenling had just taken over the Han Corporation; she should be busy consolidating her power, not chasing after a lost cause.
“While I’m willing to let the Han Corporation participate in the three projects, that doesn’t mean we’re… friends,” Xu Jinnan said.
“She won’t see me. You’re my only option,” Han Wenling said, then added, “I’m willing to… negotiate.”
Xu Jinnan could hear the sound of her lighter clicking, the underlying anxiety in her voice.
She chuckled dryly. “Han Wenling, you still don’t understand,” she said.
“Perhaps you’ll never understand what true feelings are.” She hung up.
She considered telling Cai Ying about the call; she wasn’t involved, but the decision wasn’t hers to make.
Cai Ying’s response surprised her.
“Can you set up a meeting for us? I have a client meeting near Wanhe Plaza tomorrow afternoon. 1 p.m.,” she said.
“What made you change your mind?” Xu Jinnan asked.
“I’ve been busy with work lately, learning a lot of useful things. My father is happy, and I’m happy. And I suddenly realized… Han Wenling isn’t that important anymore,” Cai Ying replied.
So, her feelings for Han Wenling hadn’t been as deep as Xu Jinnan had thought.
She was relieved.
If it had been true love, the heartbreak would have been devastating.
But she didn’t say that.
“Do what you think is best,” she said.
“I know. If I’m upset, my father will be upset, and then there will always be conflict between the Cai and Han families. You taught me that there are no permanent enemies in business,” Cai Ying said. “So, we need closure. A proper ending, for Han Wenling and Cai Ying.”
–
The next day, at 1 p.m., the weather was surprisingly pleasant, the sky clear and blue, the warm sun like a gentle blessing.
Han Wenling stood on the street outside Wanhe Plaza, her hand instinctively reaching for a cigarette, then stopping herself. As 1 p.m. approached, she saw a familiar figure in the distance.
Her gaze lingered, then, as she saw the other woman standing beside Cai Ying, her heart sank slightly.
Cai Ying also saw her and, after a brief exchange with her companion, walked towards Han Wenling.
She was wearing a beige dress and a light green coat, her appearance more mature than Han Wenling remembered, but her cheerful demeanor unchanged.
“I know you’ve taken over the Han Corporation, and our companies might have dealings in the future, so I wanted to make things clear,” Cai Ying said, her voice calm and steady, her gaze meeting Han Wenling’s. “This is the last time I’m seeing you.”
Han Wenling’s hopes crumbled, her heart sinking.
She looked at Cai Ying, her bright eyes, usually sparkling with warmth and affection, now cold and distant, her expression resolute.
“I’ll tell you about my family,” Han Wenling said after a long silence, her voice low, her words punctuated by the sounds of traffic and the chatter of the crowd. As she spoke, recounting her childhood, her father’s violence, her mother’s drunken rage after the divorce, Cai Ying’s eyes reddened, her heart aching for the little girl who had endured such pain.
She had suspected Han Wenling’s childhood hadn’t been happy; Xu Jinnan had told her a little about the Han family.
And Han Wenling had always avoided talking about her family.
She had always been kind and gentle, patient and attentive, but looking back, her behavior had also been tinged with a certain caution, a subtle vigilance.
She was deeply insecure, trusting no one but herself.
Xu Jinnan had pointed this out to Cai Ying.
If someone’s world is filled with darkness, she had said, they can’t be expected to be a source of light. They haven’t seen it themselves.
“They say ‘better late than never,’ but I still wanted to try,” Han Wenling said, her voice soft. “I’m not telling you this to ask for your forgiveness, but simply to let you know… you’re the only person I’ve ever truly cared about. Cai Ying, I’m sorry.”
Cai Ying’s eyes filled with tears, and she took a deep breath. “I haven’t experienced what you went through, but I understand your pain. But Han Wenling, I’m not your savior. I’m just an ordinary person, looking for a simple, honest relationship, and from the start, we were wrong.”
Han Wenling’s fingers curled into a fist, her lips curving into a cold smile. “So, this is really… the end?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper, a painful tightness in her chest.
Cai Ying’s tears stopped, and she looked up at Han Wenling, her voice firm. “Yes, it’s over.” She didn’t believe in second chances.
“Is it because of her?”
Cai Ying followed Han Wenling’s gaze to a tall woman standing a few meters away.
Her features were sharp and elegant, her long, dark hair pulled back neatly, her white shirt and black trousers immaculate, her presence commanding.
Their eyes met, and the woman paused, her gaze steady, as if assessing whether Cai Ying needed her.
Cai Ying smiled faintly, then turned back to Han Wenling. “Han Wenling, you still don’t understand,” she said softly.
“What don’t I understand? Why do you and Xu Jinnan keep saying that? Tell me! Tell me, and I’ll understand! Even if I don’t, I can learn…” Han Wenling said, her voice desperate.
Cai Ying paused. “Some things… you can’t learn,” she said softly. How could someone who had never seen the sun teach others about warmth?
She pitied Han Wenling, her heart aching for the little girl who had endured such a difficult childhood.
But that was all.
She couldn’t save her.
She needed the sun herself.
“Han Wenling, let’s end this here,” she said, then turned and walked away.
Han Wenling didn’t watch her go, her head bowed, her shoulders shaking slightly.
“I was wrong,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.
She remembered a conversation with Xia Chun, who had said, “I used to think I was indispensable, that even if I hurt someone, they would always come back if I apologized. I was so sure of myself, so confident in my ability to… fix things. But then I realized, even if you’re important to someone, you’re not irreplaceable. And once you’ve hurt them, you don’t even have the right to apologize.”
–
“Are you alright?”
Cai Ying, startled by the question, turned to see Zhou Qing, her expression gentle and concerned despite her professional attire.
Cai Ying shrugged, forcing a smile. “I’m fine. Just an ex.”
She paused. “Have you ever met a scumbag?”
Zhou Qing shook her head. “I’ve never been in a relationship.”
“Seriously? You’re so beautiful! How have you never dated anyone?” Cai Ying asked, surprised. “Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not,” Zhou Qing replied, her tone sincere, almost a promise.
Cai Ying’s eyes widened. “Senior, you were the campus goddess! You had so many admirers! Didn’t you like any of them?”
Zhou Qing coughed, her lips curving downwards. “It wasn’t that many. I just wasn’t interested in relationships, and I never met anyone… special.”
Cai Ying, as if inspired, said, “You’re amazing! I should follow your example and focus on my career! Relationships are overrated!”
Zhou Qing smiled. “That’s not healthy either. Being alone all the time…”
“It’s fine! We can be career women together! We’ll conquer the world!” Cai Ying exclaimed. “And when you’re ready for a relationship, just let me know. I’ll give you some time off!”
Zhou Qing paused, flustered by her words.
“I’d like that,” she replied softly. “Let’s conquer the world together.”
“Yes!” Cai Ying said, then her gaze was drawn to a large LED screen across the street.
The woman on the screen was breathtakingly beautiful, like a goddess descended from the heavens.
–
[Screaming] She’s so beautiful! That photo is amazing! My Shu Shu is a goddess!!!
[@Shen Shu Shu Shu, my love! Give me a hug!]
Shen Shu, having just finished a scene, sat down as Tong Jia handed her her phone, a smile on her face. “Little Cai is so cute,” she said.
Shen Shu took her own phone and replied: [Hug emoji]
Tong Jia, scrolling through her phone, said, “Speaking of that LED screen, your fans went all out, especially your number one fan. She said it was a celebration of your first drama and paid double the price to secure that spot.”
Shen Shu clicked on the photo Cai Ying had sent. It was the largest, most expensive LED screen in North City, a prime advertising location usually reserved for A-list celebrities.
“I’m not that famous yet,” she said.
“But it’s a good start. Shu Shu, you’ve captivated the audience with your acting. Haven’t you seen the reviews? Even directors and established actors are praising your performance,” Tong Jia said.
“I have,” Shen Shu replied.
And that was why she felt she had to do even better, to prove herself worthy of the praise, the sudden fame and popularity feeling strangely hollow and fleeting, like a candle flame that could be extinguished at any moment.
She wasn’t interested in short-lived fame.
They talked for a while longer, then the topic shifted to the upcoming fan meeting.
“Oh, right, about the fan meeting tomorrow, it’s mostly your long-time fans. They were so excited when I announced it in the group chat,” Tong Jia said.
Shen Shu, who had been typing a message to Xu Jinnan, paused, a faint smile playing on her lips. “Okay, I’ll leave it to you,” she said.
Xu Jinnan’s message: [Tired? Give me a hug too.]
She typed: [No hugs for you.]
Then sent it.
Xu Jinnan: [?]
Shen Shu: [?]
Xu Jinnan: [Fine, then no hugs for you tonight either.]
Shen Shu: “…”
Childish, she thought, then, after a moment, sent Xu Jinnan a photo – a picture of herself in the deep-V dress she had tried on at the lingerie store, the one she hadn’t bought, but had taken a photo of because she liked it.
Xu Jinnan: [Babe, that’s cheating.]
Shen Shu’s heart skipped a beat. It was the first time Xu Jinnan had used that endearment, a word she had heard countless times, but which had never held such… significance before.
She suddenly wanted to hear Xu Jinnan say it aloud, her voice a husky whisper in her ear.
It would be… intoxicating.
Shen Shu: [Is that not allowed? You can cheat too.]
Xu Jinnan: [I don’t have any photos.]
Shen Shu: [Then take one.]
Xu Jinnan: [I’m in a meeting. And when did you take that photo? I’ve never seen you wear that dress.]
Shen Shu: [I’m wearing it to the fan meeting tomorrow.]
Xu Jinnan: [? You’re wearing that?]
Just as they were exchanging messages, Tong Jia said, “Our number one fan is busy and won’t be able to make it to the fan meeting tomorrow. Just letting you know.”
“It’s fine,” Shen Shu replied, sending Xu Jinnan a message.
“She couldn’t resist,” Tong Jia commented.
“Resist what?” she asked, not having heard her clearly.
Shen Shu smiled faintly. “Nothing.”
Xu Jinnan had known about the fan meeting for days, but she hadn’t planned to attend. Shen Shu was proud and didn’t want her to feel obligated to… protect her, to intervene on her behalf.
But then, she saw Xu Jinnan’s message: [There will be hugs at the fan meeting tomorrow. Just letting you know. Don’t be jealous.]
Xu Jinnan: “…”
She shouldn’t have said that.
The image of Shen Shu hugging other people, their arms around her, their bodies close… it made her blood boil.
