Chapter 67: Aren't You Afraid People Will Say You're Living Off a Woman? I'm the One Who Finds It Embarrassing

For a moment, there was no response. Song Mi furrowed her brows and glanced in the direction where Rong Xinan was seated. Was she nervous? Rong Xinan seemed to be regaining her composure, but soon adjusted and began, “...The name Fang Suo originates from the Southern Dynasties writer Xiao Tong. When one settles, it becomes Fang Suo...”

“...A place of one’s own, at ease, content.”

As her words concluded, Rong Xinan withdrew her gaze from the screen, swept a look around those present, gave a slight bow, and ended her speech.

In the silent conference room, Song Mi gently brought her left hand to meet her right in applause. Quickly, applause echoed from every seat.

Rong Xinan bowed again with due solemnity. “Thank you!”

As the applause faded, Song Mi turned to look at Lin Shen behind her. “After the meeting, finalize the contract details with Miss Rong. If there are no issues, we’ll sign today.”

“Yes, Chairwoman.”

After a moment, Song Mi raised her eyes to the now-seated Rong Xinan, smiling. “I look forward to working with you, Miss Rong.”

Rong Xinan immediately stood, her demeanor a bit restrained. “Thank you, President Song.”

Song Mi didn’t give it much thought. She had no idea that Rong Xinan already knew her other identity. She simply gave a signal to the project manager, and the meeting continued.

After the meeting, Song Mi had just returned to her office when a video call from her “boyfriend” came through.

The nickname “boyfriend” had been set by him one night while coaxing her to sleep, playfully taking her phone and changing it himself.

Facing such occasional childishness from him, Song Mi only found it endearing.

—No problem at all!

But if she answered now and he discovered she was at the office, the “problem” would be much bigger.

At this point, her only option was to ignore the call, to buy as much time as she could.

...

On his end, Wen Yanli had no intention of checking up on her. He was just taking a break to call and see her.

He missed her.

Even though she didn’t pick up, he didn’t dwell on it.

He had plenty to handle himself, his morning split between his own cases and the process of dissolving his partnership with Lu Zhiyuan.

The real headache, though, was that several key clients, alarmed by the partnership’s sudden shift, were expressing doubts about the firm’s stability.

The firm itself wasn’t that old—barely five years—and Wen Yanli had always focused on cases, pouring most of his time and energy into winning lawsuits and securing his clients the best outcomes.

Socializing and client relations had always been Lu Zhiyuan’s responsibility. It was undeniable that being the future head of the Lu Group opened doors and brought in clients.

Now, with Lu Zhiyuan leaving, Wen Yanli was well aware of the losses this would bring, yet he was fully prepared to accept them.

Short-term gains had never really concerned him.

Still, if he was going to do it, he’d do it right. The firm could split, but his personal reputation could not be tarnished.

Besides, recently he’d heard rumors—people saying he’d latched onto some wealthy woman.

Well, Song Mi was indeed wealthy.

He thought of her closets full of the latest from every luxury brand—clothes, pants, skirts, bags, shoes...

Her apartment, her car.

Honestly, supporting her would be expensive.

He’d never cared much for money before; it was just a matter of numbers. After his uncle’s accident, he’d invested the last of the Feng family’s funds and never lost. As for dividends, aside from glancing at the financial statements, he never paid attention.

The company was small, with few employees. All transactions were handled by a professional bookkeeping firm, a new way of dividing investments.

Yet even so, Feng Jue would constantly pester him to return and take charge, threatening to quit at a moment’s notice.

When he suddenly withdrew several million this time, Feng Jue realized he was splitting with Lu Zhiyuan and buying out his share, intent on staying in Jinzhou to handle cases. Feng Jue’s voice was so loud it nearly burst his eardrums.

Feng Jue even brought up Song Mi.

His exact words were, “She’s the chairwoman of a listed company, the boss! Aren’t you afraid people will say you’re living off a woman? I’d be embarrassed—an insult to our family’s honor!”

“You’d disgrace our grandfather!”

“Come back, and together we’ll be unstoppable. In three years, we’ll ring the bell at the NYSE, you’ll be the chairman, I’ll be the general manager. You and your wife will be equals—wouldn’t that be great?”

For a moment, Wen Yanli said nothing, so Feng Jue thought he’d succeeded. Then Wen Yanli coolly replied, “Not great.”

Feng Jue’s excited monologue ground to a halt. “...Then I’ll tell Song Mi you’d rather stay in that tiny law firm in Jinzhou, arguing for others, than be a big boss!”

Unmoved, he just said, “Don’t bother her!” and hung up.

Whatever else, as long as Song Mi was in Jinzhou, he wouldn’t return to the capital.

Of course, not returning didn’t mean he couldn’t manage the company. But there was no need.

He’d chosen to study law, to be a lawyer—his own decision. So far, he had no regrets and couldn’t think of any reason that would make him quit.

If it were just for the money, it wouldn’t matter. Lawyer or not, he could still earn it. It was all about ambition.

Wen Yanli stood by the window for a while, phone in hand, but Song Mi still hadn’t called back.

At this hour, she was probably having lunch and didn’t have her private phone with her.

Lin Shen was likely by her side.

In fifteen minutes, he had a briefing with his associate lawyers. Anyone who wanted to stay was welcome; those who didn’t would have his respect.

At half past two, a client—a referral from someone whose divorce case he’d won—was coming to consult about property division in her own divorce.

She wanted to meet him in person but didn’t want it to be too formal, so they’d arranged to meet at a café near the firm.

Clearing his mind, he sent Song Mi a message.

...

When Song Mi received the message, she was in her office, waiting for Lin Shen to bring the contract.

Ten minutes earlier, Lin Shen and a colleague from legal had taken the draft contract to the reception room for Rong Xinan to sign.

The final step was Song Mi’s signature.

She was hesitating over how to reply when a knock came.

Lin Shen had brought Rong Xinan with him.

Song Mi’s first thought was that perhaps Rong Xinan had something to discuss with her in person.

But that wasn’t it—Rong Xinan had come specifically to thank her. “President Song, thank you.”

Not only did she thank her, but she also stepped forward and extended her hand.

Rong Xinan’s smile was sincere and confident, not at all perfunctory, clearly a heartfelt gratitude for their appreciation of her design.

For anyone in design or creative work, recognition from others is always deeply moving—especially before fame.

Lin Shen hesitated, about to speak, but Song Mi had already risen. “Miss Rong, you’re too kind.”

Her desk was wide; shaking hands across it would strain her injured back.

Though mostly healed, she couldn’t be careless.

So she walked around the desk to stand across from Rong Xinan and offered her hand. “Looking forward to working together.”

“Looking forward to it!” Rong Xinan replied with admirable poise.

As they shook hands, Song Mi caught a familiar scent—a light freesia perfume, not overly sweet, with a crisp woody note.

It was the same fragrance she’d smelled on Wen Yanli when he’d returned from the capital.

Her heart stirred faintly, but she withdrew her hand without betraying emotion. “Lin Shen, please see Miss Rong out.”

Rong Xinan took her leave. “Goodbye, President Song.”

The large office quickly returned to silence. Song Mi had just sat down behind her desk when her internal line rang.

She picked up; a polite female voice came through. “Chairwoman, there’s a Mr. Qiao in the lobby. He says he’s here to deliver an invitation.”

—Qiao Yudong?

How did he know she was here?

The last time she’d come was the day she returned from the capital—not for anything urgent, but because a helicopter landing had been arranged.

The helicopter had landed on the rooftop, and after disembarking, she’d stopped by her office for a half-hour rest, making her presence known.

This was only her second visit since then.

And Qiao Yudong already knew?

Did he have eyes and ears everywhere, just to pursue her?

The secretary, waiting for her response, called again softly, “Chairwoman?”

“Let him up.”

...

Qiao Yudong had expected Song Mi to see him, but hadn’t expected to run into Rong Xinan by the elevators.

To be precise, he was waiting for the elevator as Rong Xinan stepped out.

They met face to face; even Rong Xinan seemed surprised. “It’s been a long time, Senior.”

“Indeed, it has,” Qiao Yudong replied, but his mind was elsewhere—Rong Xinan had just come from Song Mi’s office?

He was waiting for the chairman’s private elevator—the one Rong Xinan had just exited, which went straight to the 66th floor. Normally, only Song Mi herself or her guests would use it.

Rong Xinan was accompanied by a uniformed female staff member.

After their greetings, the receptionist explained to the staffer, “Assistant Lin, this is Mr. Qiao, here to see the chairwoman.”

Lin Shen understood. “I’ll take Mr. Qiao up.”

“Miss Rong, I’ll see you to the lobby. Take care!” Lin Shen instructed the receptionist to escort Rong Xinan out.

Once Rong Xinan had thanked them, said goodbye to Qiao Yudong, and left, Lin Shen turned to Qiao Yudong. “This way, please, Mr. Qiao.”

“Thank you.”

Inside the elevator, Qiao Yudong’s thoughts grew more complex.

He’d looked into Wen Yanli.

His résumé was nothing short of legendary—skipped grades, direct admissions, a law master’s degree by twenty, and a partner at his firm after just two years.

Most impressively, five years in practice and not a single defeat. In the industry, they called him “the undefeated god.”

Page after page of investigation only proved one thing: this Wen was so outstanding that most men would be ashamed to compare themselves.

As for himself, he was one of the few exceptions.

He’d never compared himself to anyone; it was pointless.

He was born into the Qiao family; he didn’t need a perfect résumé as a calling card, nor a sterling reputation to make his way in the world.

Besides, if he’d cared to, skipping grades and collecting degrees would have been easy, but that wasn’t his ambition.

Even before adulthood, his motto had been: “Live life to the fullest.”

There was a saying these days: success is living as you wish. By that measure, he was quite successful.

He’d enjoyed life to the fullest—until Song Mi.

After meeting her, he finally understood what it meant to be captivated by one person, to find contentment in a single cup drawn from a vast river.

To put it plainly, he had no interest in other women anymore.

If a man can’t even muster enthusiasm for that, what’s the point of living?

Since the knot was tied by her, only she could untie it. His heart was entirely set on Song Mi, so he’d traveled more than 1,500 kilometers just to deliver an invitation in person.

Why had Song Mi met with Rong Xinan? He couldn’t ask just then, but he’d find out from Rong Xinan later.

The real question—did Song Mi know about the connection between Rong Xinan and Wen Yanli?

Did she already know and was probing? Or was she unaware?

Was Rong Xinan, with her architecture degree, now working as a designer in the Sihai Group’s real estate department?

Even so, there was no reason for Song Mi to receive her in person.

The elevator chimed and stopped at the 66th floor.

He hadn’t seen Song Mi for over two weeks; he’d even dreamed of her—dreams that were certainly not suitable for children.

In those dreams, he’d taken her as he pleased, dying for her embrace.

Yet now, about to see her, he felt as nervous as a schoolboy in love.

He hadn’t been this nervous, even on his first date.

Qiao Yudong thought, perhaps he truly was going to lose his heart to Song Mi.

...

“Chairwoman, Mr. Qiao has arrived.”

Song Mi glanced up and saw Qiao Yudong beside Lin Shen.

In terms of looks, Qiao Yudong was undeniably handsome, with an air of effortless charm—one could call him a dragon among men.

But why was he so clueless?

Soon, Lin Shen withdrew, leaving the two of them alone. Qiao Yudong’s gaze was so direct it made her uncomfortable.

But since she’d agreed to see him, it wouldn’t do to leave him standing. “Mr. Qiao, what brings you here?”

Qiao Yudong snapped back to attention. “I came to deliver an invitation, President Song.”

He stepped forward. “Is your injury better?”

“You look well!” He walked straight to her desk, pulled an invitation from his pocket, and handed it to her with a grin. “As I mentioned before, it’s for my grandfather’s birthday banquet.”

Song Mi glanced at the invitation for a moment before taking it. “You’re too polite, Mr. Qiao. If you wanted to formally invite me, you could have had Qiao Weiwei deliver it.”

“No need to come all this way yourself.” Her words were already clear, but she added, “Weren’t you afraid you’d make the trip for nothing?”

“How did you know I’d be at the office today?”

Qiao Yudong sat down as she indicated, his phoenix eyes meaningful. “When you care, you just know.”

Song Mi had never met anyone so direct. She was done with small talk.

She took her seat as well. “Then congratulations to Mrs. Qiao. I’m sure she constantly feels your... attention.”

Her words struck home; a crack appeared in Qiao Yudong’s smile, if only just. “Is President Song reminding me that I’m a married man?”

Song Mi neither confirmed nor denied it.

Qiao Yudong didn’t press further.

For a moment, the office was as quiet as if she were alone.

Song Mi felt perfectly at ease. In her own office, refusing a married man for whom she had no feelings—what was the problem?

She waited for him to take his leave.

But then he said, “If I were free, would President Song give me a fair chance to compete?”

Hearing this, Song Mi looked at him directly, her gaze growing slightly teasing after half a minute. “And what kind of chance does Mr. Qiao mean?”

Meeting her unfriendly eyes, Qiao Yudong parted his lips. “A chance to pursue you.”

...

At Wen Yuan Law Firm, Wen Yanli had just finished his meeting and was about to leave when he spotted a familiar figure.

It was Lu Zhiyuan.

The final day hadn’t come, but it was time for a face-to-face talk.

Lu Zhiyuan approached, but Wen Yanli hadn’t expected him to hand over a liver donation agreement.