The board's acceptance came first, quiet and corporate, wrapped in the language of pragmatism.
Monday morning, the official memo landed in every executive inbox.
The Board of Directors has reviewed the personal relationship disclosed by CEO Ye Beichen and Director Gu Wanyin. After careful consideration of performance metrics, projected synergies, and company stability, the Board fully supports both leaders in their roles. The immersion program will continue as planned. We look forward to continued excellence.
No mention of scandal. No demand for separation. Just results.
Wanyin read it at her desk, coffee cooling beside her.
Ye Beichen appeared in her doorway, tie already loosened though it was only 8:15.
"They caved," he said.
"They counted," she replied. "And the numbers don't lie."
He smiled, small and real. "We make them money. That's the only god they worship."
She leaned back in her chair. "Your grandmother won't like it."
"She'll hate it."
He stepped inside, closed the door.
"But she's lost the board. For now."
Wanyin nodded.
For now.
Madam Ye's reaction arrived that evening.
Not by phone.
Not by email.
By personal visit.
The doorman called up at 7:42 p.m.
"Madam Ye is here, sir. With security."
Ye Beichen's face went very still.
"Let her up."
Wanyin stood in the living room, arms crossed, when the elevator doors opened.
Madam Ye entered like she owned the building—which, in a way, she still did.
Eighty years old, spine straight, cane more ornament than necessity. Flanked by two silent bodyguards who stayed by the elevator.
She took in the apartment. The wine glasses on the counter. Wanyin's laptop open on the dining table. Ye Beichen's jacket draped over the couch.
Her eyes missed nothing.
"Beichen," she said in Mandarin, voice like winter. "You disappoint me."
He didn't bow. Didn't flinch.
"Grandmother."
She switched to English, gaze shifting to Wanyin.
"And you, Miss Gu. I underestimated you."
Wanyin inclined her head. "Madam Ye."
Madam Ye walked to the windows, looked out at the city her family had helped shape.
"The board accepts this… arrangement. Because you make money. But money is not legacy."
Ye Beichen's voice was quiet. "Legacy evolves."
Madam Ye turned.
"Not like this. Not with a woman who has no family, no name, no—"
"Enough," Ye Beichen said.
The room temperature dropped.
Madam Ye's eyes narrowed.
"You defend her."
"I love her."
The words hung in the air.
Wanyin's breath caught.
He hadn't said it before.
Not like this.
Madam Ye's expression didn't change, but something flickered behind her eyes.
"Love," she repeated. "Is that what you call it?"
"It's what I feel."
She looked at Wanyin.
"And you? Do you love my grandson? Or do you love what he can give you?"
Wanyin stepped forward.
"I loved nothing for a very long time. I built everything I have alone. I don't need what he can give me."
She met Madam Ye's gaze.
"But I want what he sees in me."
Silence.
Madam Ye studied her for a long moment.
Then turned to Ye Beichen.
"The Lin girl would have given you children. Stability. Alliance."
"I don't want the Lin girl."
"You want this…" She gestured at Wanyin. "Temporary distraction."
"No," he said. "I want forever."
Madam Ye's cane tapped the floor once.
Sharp.
"You are willing to lose the company for this?"
"I'm willing to lose everything except her."
Wanyin's heart stuttered.
Madam Ye looked between them.
Finally, she spoke.
"You have one year."
Ye Beichen frowned. "For what?"
"To prove this is not a mistake. If the company suffers—if your judgment is questioned again—I will remove you."
She turned to Wanyin.
"And you. If you hurt him, I will destroy you."
Wanyin didn't flinch.
"I won't."
Madam Ye nodded once.
Then left.
The elevator doors closed.
Silence.
Ye Beichen exhaled.
Wanyin looked at him.
"You told her you love me."
He met her eyes.
"I do."
She stepped closer.
"You told her you want forever."
"I do."
She reached up, touched his face.
"I'm terrified of forever."
"I know."
"But I'm more terrified of never trying."
He pulled her into his arms.
She held on.
Eighteen days left in the program.
But the countdown no longer felt like a cage.
It felt like a beginning.