Tan Qingya spotted the photo just as she was attending an evening banquet.
Without a second thought, she saved it and was about to make a video call when she suddenly remembered that it was Zhou Jianghao’s working hours back in China. She reluctantly pulled her finger back.
But she couldn’t hide the smile tugging at her lips.
She opened her camera for a selfie, framing only half her face and trying to capture the entire banquet in the background. Unfortunately, no matter how many angles she tried, she couldn’t get a good full shot. As she fiddled with it, a big face suddenly appeared in the frame.
The intruder grinned wide at the camera and flashed a peace sign.
Tan Qingya wiped the smile from her face and set her phone down with an expressionless look.
“President Tan, is this that classic ‘Moments feast before the real one’?” the newcomer asked.
It was Pei Shulan from their circle. They’d known each other since childhood, but their relationship had never been good. Back in school, those hostile, jealous glares had mostly come from the woman standing before her now.
They’d competed for top grades as students, and as adults, they’d clashed in the business world too. Even this overseas project was no exception—Pei Shulan had deliberately stuck her nose in.
“What’s it got to do with you?” Tan Qingya didn’t even bother glancing her way. She scrolled through the shots she’d just taken, found none of them satisfactory, and her expression soured. She opened the camera again.
After tweaking the angle several times without success, she was about to give up and just snap a wide shot of the table when Pei Shulan spoke up.
“Want me to take it for you?”
Tan Qingya paused and shot her a look. “What mischief are you plotting?”
“How can you think so badly of people?” Pei Shulan laughed in exasperation. “Take it or leave it.”
The next second, Tan Qingya tossed her phone over. Though she was the one asking for a favor, she made it sound like a royal command. “Make it look good.”
Pei Shulan froze mid-motion as she raised the phone. “Tan Qingya, just a friendly reminder—I’m not your subordinate.”
Tan Qingya kept her icy expression. “If you can’t even handle something this simple, you might as well quit the circle.”
“. . .”
Cold as she was, Tan Qingya didn’t hold back when it was time to pose. She smiled so brightly her eyes curved into crescents, shedding her usual aloof flower-on-a-high-peak vibe and transforming into a beautiful, gentle girl-next-door.
Pei Shulan couldn’t help stealing several glances. “What, got body-snatched or something?”
“Shut up,” Tan Qingya snapped, her face unchanging, eyes still crinkled in a smile, though her tone was as stiff as ever. “Just take the picture.”
If she hadn’t been required to attend the banquet alone, she’d never have handed this over to Pei Shulan.
Pei Shulan tsked. “Filter queen, total filter queen.”
Tan Qingya ignored her. The moment Pei Shulan lowered the phone, she dropped her smile, snatched it back, and examined the results closely.
Luckily, while Pei Shulan might be a mess of a person, her photography skills weren’t half bad. The photo was at least passable.
Tan Qingya quickly sent it to Zhou Jianghao. Seeing Pei Shulan still hovering, she arched a brow. “What? Back off.”
She didn’t want rumors flying about her and Pei Shulan.
Pei Shulan laughed in irritation again. “Tan Qingya, you really know how to burn bridges after crossing them.”
Tan Qingya’s face remained impassive. “Don’t get cute with the ‘bridge’ talk. Don’t make our relationship sound so intimate—I’m a married woman. Watch the optics. It’s better for both of us to keep our distance.”
She still remembered high school, when people shipped her and Pei Shulan, stuffing fanfic into her drawer. It had grossed her out.
And this woman was a real smiling tiger—sly and vicious. She’d just snatched a Tan Corporation project a few days ago, and now here she was, sniffing around overseas. Why would Tan Qingya give her the time of day?
Who knew what scheme she was cooking up this time.
Tan Qingya withdrew her gaze, kept her cold mask on, and turned to leave.
She hadn’t given the little incident much thought, but throughout the rest of the banquet, Pei Shulan didn’t stir up any trouble. The project talks went smoothly, and Pei Shulan stayed quiet, as if she’d only come for the free meal.
But was that likely?
This version of Pei Shulan only made her more uneasy.
“Keep tabs on Pei Shulan,” Tan Qingya ordered coldly on the way back to the hotel, addressing Yana. “Have the PR team on standby.”
Yana had been handling this overseas project from the start, so Tan Qingya had brought her along on the trip.
“Yes.” Seeing the exhaustion on Tan Qingya’s face, her hand resting on her stomach, Yana hesitated before speaking up. “Is your stomach bothering you?”
Business dinners always involved drinks, after all.
A message notification chimed in the car.
“Mm.”
Tan Qingya responded absently, her full attention on her phone. Zhou Jianghao was eating the lunch that Auntie Chen had delivered on her behalf. She’d sent photos, but this time, Zhou Jianghao was stingy—only a hand appeared in the frame.
Tan Qingya typed rapidly, her furrowed brow smoothing out as a smile curved her lips:
—Little Doctor Zhou, so stingy. Eating all by yourself without feeding me.
Zhou Jianghao’s status soon showed as typing. Probably munching away, she typed slowly, and the status lingered for a good while before her message arrived:
—Feed you what?
Tan Qingya had been waiting for that. Holding back a laugh, she sent:
—You’re a feast for the eyes. I crave your beauty. A day apart feels like three years. Waiting for my wife to feed me ●)o(●
“President Tan.” Yana spoke up suddenly.
Tan Qingya looked up, her smile still lingering. “Yes?”
That smile was so radiant it lit up the whole car. Yana fell silent.
These past few months, Tan Qingya had changed so much that Yana barely recognized her.
The workaholic who used to pull all-nighters abroad now clocked out on time every day, even leaving early sometimes.
She’d glance at her phone now and then, smiling genuinely—sometimes even laughing out loud—whenever she chatted.
Not that polished business smile, but one from the heart, impossible to suppress.
Even her style had shifted.
And there was now a tacky, childish hair tie on her wrist.
“Yana.” With no reply forthcoming and Yana seeming distracted, Tan Qingya’s smile faded from her eyes. She straightened up, her face turning serious. “During work hours, I don’t want your body in the office and your mind elsewhere.”
Yana nodded awkwardly. “Yes.”
But they’d been going nonstop since arriving overseas, barely adjusting to the jet lag. Tan Qingya pinched the bridge of her nose. “No work scheduled for tomorrow. Take the day off.”
With that, she opened the car door and stepped out swiftly.
Yana didn’t rush to follow. She sat quietly in the car for a moment before looking at the driver. “Please take me to the nearest pharmacy.”
Pei Shulan really was up to no good.
A photo of her taking a picture for Tan Qingya at the banquet quickly went viral.
It had that perfect atmospheric filter: Tan Qingya smiling with crinkled eyes, Pei Shulan half-crouched, looking focused.
The poster’s caption read:
Just like when your boyfriend/girlfriend snaps your pic—she’s smiling, she’s capturing the moment. Shipping it! /heart eyes/ /hearts/ /hearts
Tan Qingya pulled her gaze away in disgust. “What a creep.”
Good thing she’d prepared in advance. The PR team nipped the buzz in the bud before it could spread online.
But Pei Shulan seemed determined to gross her out. Not content with buying traction online, she even shared the photo on her WeChat Moments—no caption, just the filtered image.
Tan Qingya had her blocked, so if Yan Weining hadn’t screenshotted it for her, she never would have known. With a cold face, she unblocked Pei Shulan’s Moments, only to find that Pei Shulan had blocked her on that post too.
That actually made her laugh in anger.
She clicked back into the screenshot.
She and Pei Shulan had plenty of mutual friends.
Yan Weining commented first: Is the world crazy or are you?
Li Zhen followed: Old Tan, if that Pei woman kidnapped you, just smile once—got it, confirmed, cops notified.
. . .
Those few bold ones dared to joke; the rest just liked it. Even just their mutual friends had racked up fifty likes.
What was that supposed to mean?
Trying to tie her to Pei Shulan and make her sick?
She was about to call Pei Shulan and demand she delete the post when her eyes caught a familiar contact name in the string of likers. She froze.
Zhou Jianghao?
Tan Qingya: “. . .”
Last time at Haidilao, Zhou Jianghao had added her friends on WeChat—she knew that. But when had Pei Shulan friended Zhou Jianghao?
Now she saw through Pei Shulan’s scheme. Her face turned to ice as she quickly called Zhou Jianghao.
That photo did look pretty intimate.
Anyone would think they were close. Zhou Jianghao might misunderstand.
She had to explain fast, before the girl started overthinking.
Unfortunately, the call was hung up almost immediately.
Was she mad?
Tan Qingya’s breathing grew heavy. She called again. This time, it rang unanswered. She kept trying persistently, but no one picked up.
Before marriage, she’d vowed absolute fidelity to her partner, even suggesting the cheater leave with nothing. But back then, Zhou Jianghao had said that if either found someone else, she wouldn’t cling—they could divorce anytime.
So now, was the girl already contemplating divorce?
She nearly crushed her phone.
Before she completely lost her reason, she called the Old Madam. “Mom, please go find Zhou Jianghao right away. Tell her not to overthink things, to pick up when I call. I can explain, and I’ll arrange to fly back home immediately.”
Tan Qingya’s tone was so serious that the Old Madam grew nervous as well. “What’s going on?”
“There’s a misunderstanding between her and me, and I can’t get in touch with her right now.” At those words, Tan Qingya clenched her fist. “She’s not answering my calls.”
The Old Madam let out an “Aiyo!” “If she’s not picking up, that’s a big…”
The word “problem” hadn’t even left her mouth when the Old Madam glanced back at the clock. She fell silent for a few seconds. “Qingya, why don’t you check the time back home in China?”
Tan Qingya’s motion of grabbing her coat and charging out the door halted in an instant. She checked the time in China, and all the tension drained from her body.
Zhou Jianghao was still in the middle of her workday.
The shift from taut readiness to utter exhaustion hit her all at once, weighing her down like lead.
She let out a long breath. “You’re right. She’s still at work.”
Of course Little Doctor Zhou wouldn’t pick up during office hours—that was perfectly normal. So why had she panicked like that?
Still, this was no trivial matter. Face stern, Tan Qingya said, “Mom, someone is trying to sabotage my marriage with Little Hao.”
Tattling to her mother might seem a bit childish, but it was twice as effective, so it was worth a shot.
If memory served, Pei Shulan put on a tough front with outsiders but turned meek as a lamb at home.
By the time the Old Madam heard the full story, she was livid.
Her daughter had finally found marital bliss, their days harmonious and sweet. How dare anyone try to ruin it now? The Old Madam simply couldn’t let that slide.
