"The words 'President's Wife' hit Su Xiaolan like a bolt from the blue, leaving her utterly stunned and her soul seemingly fleeing her body.
The coffee cup in her hand clattered onto the thick carpet (fortunately unbroken), a few drops of brown liquid splashing out, mirroring the chaos in her heart. She jerked her head up, wide-eyed, staring at the receptionist in front of her, whose expression screamed 'I know everything.' Her voice cracked, 'Wh-what President's Wife?! D-don't talk nonsense!'
The receptionist, Amy, flashed a knowing smile and whispered conspiratorially, 'Assistant Su, no need to hide it! The whole company knows by now! Sharing the private elevator, the top-tier massage chair, the temperature-controlled cup holder, and President Li's line—"Because you're Su Xiaolan"... If this isn't true love, what is?' Her eyes sparkled with the fervor of a devoted shipper. 'Don't worry! Our "Chen-Lan CP Fan Club" (Chen from Chenyuan, Lan from Xiaolan) will keep it low-key. We won't cause any trouble for the real deal!'
Su Xiaolan: '...' Chen-Lan CP Fan Club?! And 'the real deal'?!
She felt her vision darken, wishing she could either faint on the spot or flee the planet with her massage chair in tow.
Ever since Li Chenyuan publicly 'summoned' her into his private elevator that day, Su Xiaolan noticed the atmosphere in the company had completely shifted. The way her colleagues looked at her was no longer just envy, jealousy, or curiosity—it was now a mix of reverence, intrigue, and... an eerie excitement and affection?
Before, they called her 'Xiaolan.' Now, it was the respectful yet affectionate 'Assistant Su' (even though her position hadn't changed). Before, when she went to the pantry for water, everyone minded their own business. Now, the moment she entered, the room would fall silent, and people would subtly make way, some even asking eagerly, 'Assistant Su, would you like me to make you tea? In your temperature-controlled cup?' Their tone suggested they were handling some fragile treasure.
Even more absurd, her workstation was now constantly 'coincidentally' stocked with snacks, fruit platters, and handwritten notes: 'Assistant Su, you've worked hard!' 'Please replenish your energy!' The signatures were usually anonymous—'CP Fan' or 'Fan Club Lurker.'
Overnight, she had become the mascot of Li Corporation and the object of the entire company's shipping frenzy!
And the mastermind behind all this—President Li himself—acted as if nothing was amiss. He remained as decisive and intimidating as ever, capable of silencing senior executives with a single glance during meetings. The only exception was when it came to Su Xiaolan... or rather, any 'efficiency optimization' proposals related to her, which he treated with astonishing leniency (and outrageous creativity).
Like now.
Su Xiaolan, burdened by the overwhelming 'President's Wife' aura (and pressure), mustered the courage to enter Wang Jing's office to request a replacement for a malfunctioning printer. Such a minor issue would've been handled through standard procedures before, but now... she felt the need to report it to the secretary-general first, lest rumors spread like 'The President's Wife is dissatisfied with office equipment, prompting President Li to order a company-wide printer upgrade.'
Wang Jing listened to her cautious request, her face settling into a 'here we go again' expression. She picked up the internal phone and dialed the CEO's office directly.
'President Li, Assistant Su is requesting a replacement for the department's shared printer. The model is...'
Before she could finish, Li Chenyuan's deep, decisive voice came through the receiver: 'Approved. Get her the latest top-tier commercial model with automatic duplex scanning, binding, and cloud-printing capabilities. Also,' he paused before adding, 'upgrade her massage chair with a wireless charging module and a tablet stand. For... reviewing electronic documents.'
Wang Jing's hand trembled slightly as she held the receiver: '...Understood, President Li.' Hanging up, she looked at Su Xiaolan, whose expression screamed 'I knew this would happen,' and sighed deeply, her tone world-weary: 'Assistant Su, you heard him? The printer... will be replaced. Your "mobile office assistance terminal" (the massage chair) will also be upgraded.' She had long given up trying to correct the president's absurd naming conventions.
Su Xiaolan facepalmed: 'Secretary-General Wang... really... it's not necessary...' All she wanted was a printer that didn't jam!
'Just... accept President Li's kindness,' Wang Jing patted her shoulder, her eyes filled with sympathy and understanding (and deep exhaustion). 'You'll get used to it. Really.' All she prayed for now was that this 'President's Beloved' would stay safe and sound—and not trigger any more of President Li's 'optimization inspirations.'
The power of rumors was immense. Su Xiaolan felt like she was living in The Truman Show, with every move scrutinized. Even when she went to the employee cafeteria, the noisy surroundings would instantly quieten, followed by hushed, excited whispers.
'Look! The President's Wife is having braised pork today!'
'Wow, even the way she eats is adorable!'
'Why isn't President Li joining his wife for lunch?'
'Dummy! President Li is swamped with work. He's probably waiting in his office for her to deliver a homemade lunch!'
Listening to these wild speculations, Su Xiaolan found her meal tasteless, like chewing wax. All she wanted was to quietly live her slacker life—why was it so hard?!
That afternoon, as she stared blankly at the newly installed tablet stand on her massage chair (contemplating life), the internal phone rang. It was Li Chenyuan calling directly, his deep, magnetic voice carrying an undeniable command through the receiver:
'Su Xiaolan. 5:30 PM. Underground parking level B1, spot A001. Be punctual.'
Without waiting for a response, he hung up.
Su Xiaolan clutched the receiver, her heart pounding. 5:30? Parking lot? A001? That was President Li's private parking spot! What... what did he want? Was he... fed up with the rumors and planning to 'deal with' her personally? Or... was he taking her somewhere for 'optimization'?!
Panic and inexplicable nervousness overwhelmed her. For the rest of the afternoon, she was distracted, her productivity plummeting (though to onlookers, her dazed expression at the computer only added to her 'President's Wife' melancholic charm).
Time crawled by in agony. At 5:29 PM, Su Xiaolan, under the knowing gazes of her colleagues ('Ooh~ President Li is picking up his wife after work!'), marched stiffly toward the elevator (this time, she resolutely chose the regular employee elevator—crowded but safe!).
Underground parking level B1 was dimly lit, the air tinged with the scent of motor oil and cold metal. Su Xiaolan spotted the sleek, imposing black Bentley Mulsanne parked in spot A001, silent and formidable like a lurking beast.
The driver's side window rolled down, revealing Li Chenyuan's sharp profile. He turned, his deep gaze locking onto Su Xiaolan, who was inching forward like a startled deer, and said simply: 'Get in.'
Su Xiaolan nervously opened the rear door, hesitated, then climbed in. The cabin carried the same cold, woody scent as his office, mixed with leather—spacious and comfortable, yet it only made her more tense. She shrank into the corner, barely daring to breathe.
Li Chenyuan glanced at her through the rearview mirror but said nothing as he started the car. The Bentley glided smoothly out of the parking spot, merging into the evening traffic.
Silence filled the cabin. Su Xiaolan peeked up, catching Li Chenyuan's focused profile in the rearview mirror—his sharp jawline taut, his expression unreadable. Her mind raced with questions.
Where was he taking her? What did he want to say? Was he going to warn her not to get any ideas? Or... was he firing her for disrupting company morale?
Just as her nerves were about to shred the hem of her clothes, Li Chenyuan's deep voice broke the silence:
'What do you want for dinner?'
Su Xiaolan: '...Huh?' Had she misheard? Dinner? Weren't they supposed to talk business (or have a confrontation)?
'Chinese? Western? Japanese?' His tone was as casual as if discussing the weather, his eyes still on the road. 'Or do you have a preference?'
Su Xiaolan's brain short-circuited. So... he'd summoned her, driven his luxury car, just to... ask what she wanted for dinner?!
Was this some new form of 'efficiency optimization'? Optimizing her dinner decision-making?
'I... anything is fine...' she mumbled reflexively.
Li Chenyuan seemed dissatisfied with this answer, his brow furrowing slightly. 'Then we'll go to Morton's,' he decided, steering the car toward one of the city's most upscale steakhouses.
Su Xiaolan: '...' Morton's?! Where a single meal could cost half her monthly salary?! Was her jeans-and-T-shirt ensemble even appropriate for such a place?!
'P-President Li,' she mustered her courage to protest, 'actually... instant noodles at home would be—'
'No.' Li Chenyuan cut her off, his tone brooking no argument. 'You need high-quality protein and iron to maintain energy for...' He paused, searching for the right words, '...high-intensity mental labor.'
Su Xiaolan: '...' High-intensity mental labor?! Did he mean her daily routine of completing menial tasks and napping on her massage chair while binge-watching dramas?! President Li, do you have the wrong idea about 'high-intensity'?!
Watching the city lights blur past the window, feeling the plush comfort of the luxury car, and sensing the unyielding aura of the man who commanded a vast business empire, Su Xiaolan resignedly closed her eyes.
Fine. She'd surrender.
Resistance was futile.
Might as well accept her fate as a little salted fish carried off by a giant whale.
At least... Morton's steak was probably delicious, right?
She cracked one eye open, stealing another glance at the rearview mirror. For the briefest moment, the corner of Li Chenyuan's mouth seemed to quirk upward—so fast she might've imagined it.
Meanwhile, on Li Corporation's internal anonymous forum, in the 'Chen-Lan CP Fan Club' section, a post titled [BREAKING! Eyewitness account! President Li personally drove his wife home after work! Headed toward a luxury restaurant!] was skyrocketing in popularity, followed by a flood of excited 'OMG!' and 'I'm dying from the sweetness!'
Secretary-General Wang Jing took one look at the post notification on her phone, silently turned off the screen, reached for the antacids on her desk, and dry-swallowed two pills.
Life was getting more... interesting by the day (if 'interesting' meant being drowned in sugar)."