Rui Jie's words chilled him. He cared for her. From their first meeting in Luo's office, he'd been drawn to her poise—her full breasts, her long legs, the way she worked, focused and elegant. Spying on her through the glass had become a daily thrill. Working with her, he'd seen her warmth, her sincerity—no office politics, just kindness. When Jiang and Hong leered at her, it had hurt.
Last night, her advance, their passion—felt different. Not the ease of Yanran, nor the wildness of Chen Yuqi, but something tender, tentative.
Had she mistaken him for Luo, eight years younger? Same drive, same edge? It would explain her mood swing.
She emerged, fully dressed, surprised to find him still nude.
"Tianzhuo, it's work time. Get dressed." Her face flushed mid-sentence.
"Rui Jie, believe me—I mean it. I care about you." He said seriously.
She stared at the floor, cheeks burning.
"I'm sorry. We're not meant to be. Last night was wonderful—every day with you makes me feel young. But I'd only hold you back. You'll meet someone younger, prettier. Let's cool off, okay?" Tears spilled again.
He pulled her into his bare chest. She trembled, then shoved him away, turning her back.
"Don't. I'll lose control. I'll go crazy. Lock the door when you leave. The company's New Year's Eve dinner is tonight—I'm heading in. Forget last night."
She left, taking the warmth, the intimacy, leaving him cold and confused.
Fang didn't rush to the office. Jiang and Hong were still at the villa—he needed to send them home or extend their stay. With New Year days away, he hoped they weren't too greedy to miss their families.
Outside Rui Jie's complex, Yu called: Luo wanted them to go easy, wait until after the holiday.
"Thought so," Fang muttered. Yu's eagerness was unnecessary.
At the villa by 10 AM, the door was locked, silent. In the basement, the marketing guy napped; the screen showed limp bodies—Jiang, Hong, and the women, spent.
"Good work," Fang smiled.
The guy stirred, exhausted. "How many discs?"
"Four? But only two with… action."
"Edit the best into one disc. Grab 100 photos, too." Fang grinned.
The guy worked quickly, obviously familiar with the footage. An hour later, a highlight reel and photos filled a disc.
"Take the four raw discs, make two copies of the edit, then delete everything from the hard drive. Tell no one. Your bonus'll reflect it." Fang ordered.
The fewer who knew, the better.
The guy nodded, complying.
Upstairs, still no movement. Fang called the villa phone. An hour later, Jiang and Hong stumbled out, supported by the women.
They looked pale, shaky, their hands trembling. The women, though tired, glowed, grinning.
"Lunch, then more fun?" Fang joked.
"More fun?" Jiang croaked.
"Yichang has foreign students—white, black, Japanese, Indian. Spanning continents. You'll love it."
"Brother Fang, we appreciate it, but tomorrow's New Year's Eve. We don't want to die in a stranger's bed. Donghua's project? We'll handle it. Promise." Hong said, Jiang nodding weakly.
Fang had lied—no such "fun" existed. Wuhan wasn't a red-light district, and Donghua wasn't a pimp ring. He just needed to intimidate them. Excess backfires.
After lunch, he sent them home with a company driver. At Donghua, Luo and Yu were in the chairman's office, going over files. The door was open, so Fang briefed them, handing over the discs. Yu lit up; Luo barely glanced, passing his to Rui Jie for safekeeping. The discs' use depended on Jiang and Hong's follow-through.
"How many know about this?" Luo asked, cold.
"Just you, the CEO, Ms. Rui, me, and the marketing guy. Four raw discs, three edited copies—all here. The hard drive's clean."
"Seal them. Lock them in the confidential files room. No one touches them without my order. Not even you." Luo's tone brooked no argument.
Fang and Yu hid their disappointment—no late-night viewing now. The confidential files room, run by Rui Jie, was stricter than a bank vault.
Rui Jie returned to her office, expressionless. Fang went to his desk. Afternoon dragged, waiting for the New Year's Eve dinner. He grew bored, watching her through the glass—she stared into space, sighing, then smiling, disoriented.
He dialed her extension. "Rui Jie? You okay? You seem distracted."
"Call me Ms. Rui or Rui Jie. I'm fine. Do your work." She hung up, flat.
His heart sank. Regret gnawed—had he rushed it? Better to keep it innocent, preserve their bond.
His phone rang—Li Xiaochan.
"Tianzhuo, are you on vacation yet?" She sounded eager. "I'm waiting for your ride home."
She'd been off since today. Gao Tianwei was still working—on call 24/7. This year had been good: a promotion, a car, respect, reconnected with friends, even found a kindred spirit in Rui Jie. Only Yanran was missing.
Going home with Xiaochan, not Yanran—gossip would fly. Let them talk. Yanran had left him. He and Xiaochan were innocent.
"Probably tomorrow. Dinner tonight. Pack—we might head out first thing." He joked.