Fu Nanzhi left with a stack of documents in her arms, their conversation having been brief.
Cheng Jun took a sip of coffee and remained seated, motionless.
Even with Cheng Jun's sharp intellect, she could only tell that Fu Nanzhi hadn’t come simply to catch up. As for her real intentions, Cheng Jun couldn’t quite figure them out yet.
Her words didn’t sound like bragging or provocation—could she really have just come to invite her to dinner?
"Ah..."
Cheng Jun sighed, shaking her damp left hand.
The rain outside seemed to mirror her mood, drizzling softly.
She had promised herself not to dwell on Shen Yi anymore, yet just hearing his name sent her thoughts spiraling.
The mind is the hardest thing to control—the more you resist, the deeper it lingers.
That’s why she preferred sitting here, watching the rain, emptying her mind of everything. The cool mist was soothing.
But life had a way of disrupting her peace.
In the brief moment she let herself drift, thoughts of Fu Nanzhi, her assistant, and work matters all came flooding back.
Just as she finally found some quiet, her mother called, asking her to come home for dinner.
Cheng Jun put down her phone, her mood worsening. It wasn’t that she had issues with her family—she just wanted to be alone for a while, but even that seemed impossible.
Picking up her cup, she stood and muttered to herself before heading back to her office.
"The rain’s getting heavier."
...
"Yeah, it’s been pouring all day."
Cheng Tianwei replied, recalling last night’s weather forecast.
"The news said there’d be heavy rain today and tomorrow."
Wen Ya got up from the couch and reminded her husband,
"Call Zhu Yun and tell her to drive carefully—it’s really coming down."
"Alright, I’ll call now."
Cheng Tianwei stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, pulling out his phone, but then paused and smiled.
"No need—she’s here."
Through the rain, a Porsche’s headlights appeared as it pulled into the garage.
Wen Ya hurried over, grumbling under her breath,
"She’s already here? That girl must’ve been speeding again. No matter how many times I tell her..."
"Save the scolding for later. When she comes in, don’t nag."
Cheng Tianwei warned.
Wen Ya rolled her eyes, dragging out her words sarcastically,
"Fine, you’re the doting father, aren’t you?"
She didn’t even bother pointing out her husband’s contradictions—always the picture of rationality in public, the epitome of an open-minded parent.
Yet behind closed doors, he fretted over every little thing, a complete pushover when it came to their daughter. How he managed to run a company with that temperament was beyond her.
Cheng Tianwei shrugged helplessly.
The doorbell rang—Zhu Yun must be at the door. Both parents moved to greet her, but then Cheng Tianwei’s phone buzzed.
Seeing it was a work call, he had no choice but to answer.
Meanwhile, Wen Ya reached the entrance just as the live-in housekeeper opened the door. Cheng Jun was in the foyer, changing out of her wet shoes.
"Zhu Yun, you’re back! Did you get soaked?"
"Just a little. The rain was too heavy—my skirt got damp..."
"Don’t worry about it. Go upstairs, take a shower, and change into dry clothes."
Wen Ya handed her a towel.
Cheng Jun wiped her legs. Even that short walk had been a struggle in the wind and rain.
Her stockings and shoes squished with every step.
By then, Cheng Tianwei had finished his call and joined them.
"You’re back. I told you to ride with me this afternoon, but you refused."
Cheng Jun shook her head.
"I still had work to finish, and leaving early wouldn’t look good."
"Heh, look at you, all grown up..."
"Your supervisor praised you in the meeting the other day, you know."
Cheng Tianwei teased, feeling a swell of pride.
Lately, despite her mysterious comings and goings, Cheng Jun had shown real improvement. Back when she first started working, she’d resisted every step of the way—showing up on time was a miracle, let alone worrying about appearances.
Cheng Jun scoffed.
"That bootlicker would praise you for farting if he thought it’d get him somewhere. He just didn’t have a reason to flatter me before."
"Watch your language," Cheng Tianwei chided, though his tone was patient.
"Whether in business or life, things aren’t so black and white."
"He’s in that position not because he’s good at flattery, but because he’s competent. Focus on learning from his strengths, not just his flaws."
Then, with a sidelong glance, he added,
"Otherwise, no matter how much he praised you, he’d still be out the door if he didn’t deliver."
Cheng Jun didn’t argue, just murmured,
"Black and white, huh..."
Wen Ya picked up the discarded towel and cut in.
"Save the lectures for later. She’s still damp—don’t let her catch a chill."
Turning to Cheng Jun, she urged,
"Go shower. The housekeeper already laid out fresh clothes on your bed."
"We can talk more after."
Cheng Jun nodded and headed upstairs.
Once she was gone, Wen Ya frowned at Cheng Tianwei.
"Does Zhu Yun seem upset to you?"
"She’s so quiet today—not like her at all..."
Normally, she’d greet them with hugs and kisses, pestering them about dinner.
She’d even swing her arms around her father’s neck, spinning him around until both parents were wrapped around her little finger. That’s how he’d become such a pushover.
"Hard to say," Cheng Tianwei mused, rubbing his chin. He had a hunch but wasn’t sure.
"We’ll ask her at dinner."
"What if she doesn’t want to talk?" Wen Ya fretted.
"You won’t know unless you ask. Just be gentle about it."
Cheng Tianwei said breezily.
"Fine, you’re always right. You ask her, then."
Wen Ya crossed her arms, giving him a look that said she expected him to fail.
At the dinner table, Cheng Jun joined them in loose pajamas after her shower.
"Dig in—it’s all your favorites," Wen Ya said, having prepared extra dishes knowing she’d be home.
She barely touched her own food, too busy loading Cheng Jun’s plate.
To her, this was the fallout of sending Cheng Jun abroad—ever since returning, she’d insisted on "personal space," forcing them to live apart and schedule family meals in advance.
The meal was unusually quiet, the clinking of cutlery the only sound. An outsider might’ve mistaken it for some strict no-talking-at-the-table rule.
When her husband kept eating without a word, Wen Ya kicked him under the table.
Cheng Tianwei cleared his throat.
"Zhu Yun, what’s kept you so busy lately?"
Cheng Jun paused mid-bite.
"Nothing much."
"Well, Auntie Zhang mentioned you’ve been learning to cook from her?"
"Planning to surprise us?"