Chapter 95: Big Sister’s Little Dog

Over the course of one night, Lu Zhixia planted all the Tokyo cherry blossom seedlings.

She straightened up, wiped the sweat from her forehead, and squinted in the dawn light, as if she could already see vast fields of cherry blossoms bursting into bloom next spring.

Brimming with youthful energy, she packed away the tools, handed them to the housekeeper, and prepared to head to work.

The housekeeper mentioned that President Shen had come back last night, and Lu Zhixia’s eyes lit up like stars.

She thanked the housekeeper excitedly, then barreled into the room like a whirlwind.

Shen Wanqing emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a bath towel, her slender neck and delicate collarbones on full display.

Little Dirty A rushed over with glee, throwing her arms around her in a tight hug and crying out, “Big Sister.”

Shen Wanqing grumbled in mock disgust, but a smile tugged at her lips. The girl in her arms was like a pet reuniting with its long-lost owner.

After a flurry of playful antics, Big Doggy mischievously tried to drag Shen Wanqing back into the bathroom.

It had been ages since they’d marked each other. Shen Wanqing usually held back, rarely releasing her pheromones. Outside her heat period, Lu Zhixia was always eager—candy was a bonus, but she could make do without.

Perhaps her heat was approaching; Lu Zhixia’s most obvious symptom lately was her boundless energy. She’d spent the entire night planting trees and was still raring to go, which only highlighted how weary Shen Wanqing looked after just one night of rest.

Unfortunately, it was early morning on a weekday, and they were on the verge of being late for work—no time for such distractions.

Shen Wanqing unleashed her ultimate hair-yank move. Lu Zhixia yelped in pain, whining all pitiful and aggrieved, “Big Sister yanked my hair again, wuwu.”

She always boasted of being a Fierce A, but in front of Shen Wanqing, the spoiled whines came as naturally as breathing.

“Breakfast, then work,” Shen Wanqing said, flicking the bath towel toward her. It landed perfectly over her head.

Lu Zhixia tugged at it irritably a couple of times before emerging into the light again. By then, Shen Wanqing had already slipped into the walk-in closet.

She grumbled under her breath, shook out the towel, and caught a whiff of faint body scent. As she leaned in to sniff, a deliberate cough sounded right by her ear.

Shen Wanqing stood there with her arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe. “Smells good?” she asked coolly.

Lu Zhixia’s ears flushed bright red, and she dove into the bathroom to shower.

After the teasing, Shen Wanqing couldn’t help but chuckle. She settled at the dining table to handle some work while waiting for Lu Zhixia.

Lu Zhixia tucked into her breakfast with gusto. Mala tang or fine delicacies—it didn’t matter; she devoured it all with equal relish.

Watching her eat always worked up Shen Wanqing’s appetite, leaving her to wonder if they were even consuming the same food.

Between bites, Lu Zhixia gave her an update.

She’d already spoken with the Sales Assistant. Following Shen Wanqing’s guidance, Lu Zhixia had put herself in the woman’s shoes, breaking down the most advantageous path forward.

That meant handing over the evidence, aligning with the right side, and letting leadership handle the rest at their discretion.

The young woman had considered fighting back, of course. But Lu Zhixia had laid it out with utter sincerity: negotiating with the company was tantamount to challenging Shen Wanqing herself. Forget whether the evidence even mattered—the defiance alone was a fatal mistake.

At last, the girl agreed to turn over the evidence. But then she took a few days of sick leave, uploading a medical record that read: psychiatry outpatient.

“Probably just stressed; she’s young and can’t handle the pressure,” Lu Zhixia said, setting down her chopsticks. “She’s supposed to be back at work today, though. I thought I’d check on her—it’s not such a huge deal that she’d actually get sick over it.”

Shen Wanqing remained impassive. “She’s young? You’re the youngest one at the company.”

Lu Zhixia laughed. “Am I ordinary? I’m an Ultimate Fierce Alpha.”

She puffed up with smug pride while bragging, so Shen Wanqing lobbed a shrimp ball at her—only for Lu Zhixia to snap it up midair, crunch it down, and beam, “Delicious.”

Shen Wanqing burst out laughing and leaned back in her chair. “So, what’s your take on the Sales Assistant?”

Lu Zhixia gave an earnest assessment. She’d been with the company for a few years, showed good stability, and had solid skills.

“Very well,” Shen Wanqing conceded. “Assign her a role—same level or lower. Her adaptability will decide if she stays.”

Humans had a natural sympathy for the vulnerable, perhaps. Lu Zhixia had looked into the assistant’s background: on her own in Haijing City, with rural parents and a younger brother whose college tuition came from her scholarships. After graduation, she became the family’s main source of income. If Lu Zhixia could help, she would.

Buoyed, Lu Zhixia headed off to work, keeping up their WeChat chat on the road.

Shen Wanqing lingered by the floor-to-ceiling windows, unmoving. The air still held traces of Ambergris Pheromone, richer than usual. She flipped through her calendar. Yes—Little Dog’s heat period was almost here.

On her way to the office, Shen Wanqing brought up two things with Lu Zhixia.

First, the photo Yan Menghui had sent earlier. Once she understood the situation and confirmed Lu Zhixia was in the right, her worries eased somewhat. Second, she asked about Lu Zhixia’s phobia of blood.

Lu Zhixia took her time replying: “Didn’t I tell you before? It happened when my dad died. It’s probably a lingering effect. I don’t need to see a doctor; I just feel sick when I see a lot of blood.”

Shen Wanqing wasn’t one to spoil someone like a doting parent. She ordered Lu Zhixia to get checked out by a doctor.

Lu Zhixia huffed in annoyance, but deep down, Shen Wanqing’s words meant the world to her.

Maybe it was the power of love—discipline felt like a blissful chain, one she wore willingly.

That said, Lu Zhixia had her own little tricks up her sleeve. If she had to get treated for her blood phobia, then Shen Wanqing needed to see a doctor too. Sleeping in the wardrobe wasn’t a sustainable solution.

Shen Wanqing: “I don’t need to. When you’re here holding me, I can fall asleep.”

It praised Lu Zhixia’s vital role, filling her heart with delight. At the same time, it gave a perfectly reasonable excuse to skip the hospital.

Lu Zhixia stayed pleased for half the day, but once they reached the company, she reneged. “Big Sis has to go to the hospital first. Then I’ll go.”

Shen Wanqing had no choice but to relent under the nagging. “I’ll have the doctor come to the house. I’ll do some psychological counseling.”

Sister’s Little Dog: “Big Sis is so good. I’ll be right there with you.”

It sounded sweet, but Shen Wanqing saw right through her ploy—a chance to keep watch.

Lu Zhixia messaged the sales assistant on WeChat, and they met up at the tea restaurant on the nineteenth floor.

Lu Zhixia didn’t jump in right away. The assistant couldn’t hold back and spoke first. “I’ve thought it over. The special assistant was right. I was so terrified of losing my job at first that I lost my head.”

The assistant pulled out a small receipt and handed it to Lu Zhixia. “I didn’t dare take it home or to the office. I stashed it in a storage locker at the supermarket nearby.”

Her voice dropped, thick with regret. “I’m sorry. Please tell President Shen I never meant to go against her. I swear.”

Lu Zhixia pocketed the receipt. The assistant went on. “Lately, President Yang hasn’t called me into any meetings. He’s probably heard something. If—if President Shen decides to let me go, give me a heads-up. I’ll resign on my own. Getting fired would make it tough to land another job. Please understand how it is for regular folks like us.”

Lu Zhixia soothed her. “I’ve spoken up for you with President Shen. She’s got a good heart and decided to give you a shot. I’ll line up a new position for you. Ignore Yang Ge—if he gives you any grief, come straight to me.”

Her job safe, the assistant broke down in sobs, thanking her over and over.

Lu Zhixia headed to the nearby supermarket alone. She scanned the QR code, and the locker clicked open. Inside was a yellow document pouch.

She glanced around, found a quiet corner, and opened it. Every piece of evidence was rock-solid.

One file was a Word document the assistant had printed, compiling rumors about Yang Ge. It even touched on the former president’s car crash.

The assistant’s investigative skills were limited, but she’d gathered enough leads to point the way.

To play it safe, Lu Zhixia hailed a cab and took the documents back to Cloud Water Manor.

Shen Wanqing wasn’t home. Her private scheme had fallen flat. She shot off a WeChat message to Shen Wanqing, then slipped away to her secret garden.

She had watered it that morning, and the droplets on the sapling were still fresh. Lu Zhixia snapped a photo before leaving.

In truth, Shen Wanqing was out meeting Wen Wan and Yan Menghui to hash out the audit standards for Yang Ge. They hadn’t even settled on an initial proposal.

Shen Wanqing pushed for the toughest standards, Yan Menghui something in the middle, and Wen Wan the most lenient.

Several conference calls had gone nowhere, so today they were meeting in person. Shen Wanqing had suggested company headquarters, but Yan Menghui was already at the hotel where Wen Wan was staying.

Wen Wan was in her heat period and working from the hotel with an inhibitor patch slapped on.

Shen Wanqing pushed open the door. The two, who had been sitting very close, pulled apart and turned to her.

As a beta, Yan Menghui’s healing was slower than most. The scratch on her eye had scabbed over but remained an angry red.

Her gaze toward Shen Wanqing held no trace of its old warmth—only cool detachment.

Shen Wanqing paid it no mind and took a seat. “All right, President Wen. Let’s get started.”

Yan Menghui spoke evenly. “President Wen and I have already reached an agreement. It’s a blend of our plans—a compromise. Two to one. I think President Shen can submit it to headquarters.”

Shen Wanqing leaned back in her chair, her face impassive as she watched them.

Seconds stretched into minutes. She showed no sign of speaking. Finally, Wen Wan broke the silence. “President Shen, whatever you have to say, just say it.”

Shen Wanqing sat up straight. “Do you two know who the executive president of Haijing Senhua is?”

Yan Menghui shot a faint glance at Wen Wan by way of reminder. “President Shen is the executive president. But President Wen heads up the Asia-Pacific region.”

“Oh.” Shen Wanqing rose and stepped over to Yan Menghui. She planted her hands on the arms of Yan Menghui’s chair and gazed down at her coolly. “Then tell me—what does Article Ten, Clause Two of the Rhine Corporation bylaws say?”

An oppressive aura crashed toward her like a wave. Yan Menghui lifted her chin slightly, trying to stare it down with a steely gaze, but her body betrayed her, instinctively leaning back.

Wen Wan spoke calmly. “President Shen, there’s no need to take it out on President Yan.”

Shen Wanqing turned her head to look at her. “Is that what this is? Getting angry?”

Her hands clenched the armrests of her chair, veins bulging on the backs of her hands until they turned a pale bluish-white. She gripped them tightly once, then let go, straightened up, and smiled. “You’ve all known me for a long time. I haven’t truly lost my temper with any of you yet.”

She grabbed her bag, her smile slowly fading as she said coldly, “Since you’ve pushed your luck this far, let me make it clear: I’m not using this standard. I’ll stick to the original plan and fire Yang Ge. If headquarters doesn’t approve, then they can replace me.”

Shen Wanqing turned to leave. Wen Wan gave a slight nod, and Yan Menghui immediately rose and seized her hand.

She glanced down at it indifferently. Yan Menghui’s heart stung; the softness those heterochromatic eyes had once held for her was now buried entirely under a layer of ice.

“President Shen, if you’re unhappy with the outcome, we can discuss it,” Wen Wan said. Her tone was forever mild, as if Shen Wanqing were the one being petulant and unreasonable. “Don’t throw a tantrum like a child.”

Shen Wanqing shook off Yan Menghui’s hand and looked back at Wen Wan, her voice measured and deliberate. “Too late. You no longer have the right to negotiate with me.”

She strode out. In the room behind her, Wen Wan let out a helpless sigh. “Ah, kids can be so immature.”

Yan Menghui swallowed the bitterness churning inside her and schooled her expression back into one of cold detachment. “Should we make the call now?”

Wen Wan stared down at her computer screen, which reflected her faint, shallow smile. But her eyes betrayed no emotion whatsoever. “Yes, make the call.”

Shen Wanqing stepped outside and slid into her car, pulling out her phone.

She stared at the screen, her gaze settling on Lu Zhixia’s profile picture.

Just then, a notification popped up in Lu Zhixia’s chat window. She had sent a photo.

The knot of frustration in Shen Wanqing’s chest began to unravel, light breaking through. The picture showed Lu Zhixia’s WeChat interface, displaying the nickname she had set for her: Sister’s Little Dog.

Lu Zhixia had changed it once before, but now she had changed it back.

Shen Wanqing was very pleased. She messaged her: I’m sending you a location pin. Come here.

Lu Zhixia was buzzing with anticipation. If she had a tail, it would have been wagging wildly with joy, straight up to the heavens. Her lips curved into a bright, happy smile.

But when Shen Wanqing’s message appeared, the Dog Cub’s face darkened completely.