MG CH12

After some negotiation, the situation turned out to be quite simple: Ji Chen had a gambling-addicted father who, like every gambler, almost always lost.

He racked up debts outside and was constantly being chased by creditors—his life an endless cycle of these two things.

Today just happened to be a “getting chased for money” day.

Fortunately, the two tattooed thugs who had been barking at Ji Chen’s father became all polite and flattering when they saw Yan Zishu.

In terms of strength, the smooth, firm lines of muscle visible beneath his rolled-up sleeves made it clear he wasn’t someone who’d go down without a fight. In terms of wealth, from the car he drove to the way he dressed and his naturally superior demeanor, everything about him screamed “connected and important.”

People who mixed in the underworld knew better than to pick fights without reason—provoking someone who was clearly rich or powerful was never “a smart move.”

Yan Zishu asked coldly, “How much does he owe?”

The two men carelessly said, “Not much, just ten thousand.”

Ji Chen’s voice was barely above a whisper: “I can only give you five thousand… I have to save the rest for next semester’s tuition.”

“There’s still a few months till then. You’ve got time to earn more,” his father said ingratiatingly.

Yan Zishu shot a frosty glance at Ji Chen’s father, and the sleazy middle-aged man shrank back with an awkward smile.

Still, he stubbornly offered another “suggestion”: “Xiao Chen, why don’t you borrow some from your friend here?”

Ji Chen panicked. “No way! I can’t do that!”

In the end, it was Yan Zishu who calmly went back to the car, retrieved some cash from the storage box, and handed it to the two tattooed men to make them leave.

Ji Chen’s father smugly headed upstairs. Ji Chen was on the verge of tears. “Assistant Yan, I can’t take your money…”

Yan Zishu could only sigh at how this kid looked so pitiful and helpless, like a little wife.

But really, this wasn’t his place to interfere. This was Ji Chen’s life—if he felt he could get by like this, then so be it.

As for the money: “President Fu always keeps some emergency cash in the car. So technically, this wasn’t mine. You’re just enjoying his generosity.”

Yan Zishu further explained, “This was an emergency. Using cash was just to avoid leaving any transaction records with those people. Don’t think too much about it.”

Upon hearing that the money belonged to Fu Weishan, Ji Chen’s expression turned complicated again, and he lowered his head, falling silent.

Yan Zishu said, “Alright, go on upstairs. I’ll head off now. Call me if you need anything.”

Just before he left, he glanced back—only to see Ji Chen secretly wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

Caught, Ji Chen awkwardly explained, “I just don’t want my mom to see…”

Yan Zishu sighed, his rare moment of kindness lingering. He opened the car door. “Come sit in the car a while longer. Clean your face before you go in.”

“My dad got fired from his job because of mahjong, and he hasn’t found anything stable since. He just spends his days in the mahjong parlor. Actually, he never racks up huge debts—just a few hundred or thousand each time. We can usually pay them off. But my mom’s health is bad too—like a walking medicine jar—so she needs expensive medicine all the time. That’s why sometimes people like that come knocking for money…”

Like every tragic soap opera protagonist, Ji Chen had an unhappy family background: a sickly, frail mother and a gambling-addicted father. Their finances were always tight—he was the typical Cinderella, waiting for some fairy godmother or prince to come save him.

Yan Zishu already knew most of this, so he listened half-heartedly.

“He really isn’t like this all the time,” Ji Chen insisted. “He has his good moments too.”

His earlier tears had been from a sudden rush of shame and anger; now he had calmed down.

Since he had already shown kindness, Yan Zishu added softly, “It’s very hard for gamblers to really quit.”

Ji Chen was surprised and retorted, “But this… this isn’t gambling, right? It’s just mahjong at the parlor.” He struggled to defend his father: “And he has said many times that he wants to change. If even his own family won’t give him a chance, who else will?”

The glow of Ji Chen’s sainthood made Yan Zishu’s mouth twitch slightly, but he said no more.

There was no point. His advice had reached its limit.

After sitting quietly for a while longer, Ji Chen prepared to get out and head home. Before leaving, he promised, “I’ll pay you back as soon as I can!”

Yan Zishu resumed his dutiful assistant’s air. “No rush. Just take care of your family first.”

Naturally, the use of the cash from Fu Weishan’s car and everything he’d seen downstairs at Ji Chen’s building was later reported in full to Fu Weishan.

In truth, neither was much of a big deal. To a rich man, ten thousand yuan was pocket change. Fu Weishan had never kept any of his lovers so poorly. But now that he was indulging in a game of romance, he pretended not to care.

In fact, Fu Weishan thought it was fine for Ji Chen to remain in such hardship—a situation where he would eventually realize he could only depend on him.

Perhaps because of the bitter lesson left by Yuan Mu, Fu Weishan now believed it was dangerous for a lover to have claws—it was better to wear them down early.

Call it male chauvinism if you want—or something even less flattering.

Yinghan Group continued its daily operations; urban white-collar workers bustled in and out as always.

Interestingly, after the theater performance, Fu Weishan—who had always laughed at the idea of public displays—sent Ji Chen a huge bouquet of roses for the first time, not hiding it at all.

It was tacky, but definitely eye-catching. The private chat groups of Yinghan employees were instantly alive with fresh gossip.

Ji Chen, arriving at his booth, saw the massive bouquet sprawled across his desk with an attached card. His face flushed red, his heart pounded wildly as he darted nervous glances around. Luckily, Fu Weishan himself didn’t appear, but the curious, prying stares from all sides were sharp enough.

Everyone whispered:

“Is this their official announcement? Is he going to be President Fu’s boyfriend now?”

Someone else said: “Announcement? More like he’s still stringing the boss along.”

Another added: “But do you really think the boss would fall for such cheap tricks?”

Speculation abounded—but nothing was confirmed.

That afternoon, the HR Director came to Yan Zishu, looking troubled. Ji Chen had made another mistake at work and was reported to HR again. After the mishap in the exhibition planning department, he had been transferred to the marketing department for desk work. This time, he’d apparently messed up a contract—but luckily, it was for a minor procurement, so the losses weren’t serious.

But after all, some trouble had been caused. Although his colleagues helped clean up the mess, they were clearly not too pleased about it.

Normally, when an employee made a mistake, the matter would be handled according to the employee handbook. The HR Director wouldn’t have bothered coming to the executive assistant unless there were special circumstances—namely, the recent gossip about “Ji Chen being favored by President Fu” or “Ji Chen possibly being Fu Weishan’s boyfriend.”

There was also another reason. Back then, he had cooperated with Yan Zishu to kick Ji Chen out of the secretary department for “incompetence.”

Who would’ve thought that such twists and turns—of a male-male relationship no less—would come afterward?

The HR Director wasn’t sure if he had somehow offended President Fu because of this. Now he could only cling to Yan Zishu and hope they were in the same boat.

Having explained everything in detail, the HR Director waited for Yan Zishu’s stance, so he could know where he stood.

Little did he know that the other man had a completely different position and was about to throw himself into trouble on purpose.

Fortunately, Yan Zishu still had some sense of personal responsibility and wasn’t planning to drag the HR Director down with him.

According to the original plot, this “secret admirer” acted out of jealousy, doing everything he could to drive a wedge between the main couple.

He’d decided to hold back when it came to Yuan Mu—but Ji Chen would get what was coming to him.

Fu Weishan was busy with personal engagements and wouldn’t be at the company for the next two days. The HR Director had chosen this gap on purpose. Yan Zishu deliberately glanced at his watch. “Got it. I’m busy right now—tell that intern to come see me before the end of the day.”

The HR Director thought, “That intern,” huh? It sounded so distant—maybe a little too deliberate.

He cautiously said, “Alright then, you talk to him first, and we’ll decide how to handle this later.”

But Yan Zishu kept a straight face. “It’s one thing to care about an employee’s state of mind—but you still need to handle this by the book.”

An hour before the end of the day, Ji Chen sat anxiously in a small conference room near the secretary’s office.

Soon, Yan Zishu came in, dragged out a chair opposite him, and sat down—his gaze sharp, unreadable.

“Someone reported that you’ve not been performing well at work lately.” After a few seconds, he finally spoke. The actual complaint had been harsher—about Ji Chen’s “lack of professionalism”—but Yan Zishu softened it slightly. “Don’t get nervous. I just want to check—are you having any difficulties at work?”

“This was entirely my fault.” Ji Chen lowered his head, dejected. “I accidentally bound the wrong contract documents. I accept any punishment the company decides.”

“The point isn’t the punishment. The point is living up to your responsibilities—and the salary you receive.”

“I know. I’ve been careless.”

“Why are you the only one being this careless?”

Ji Chen choked on the question. He really wasn’t a particularly meticulous person. Plus, these days, he’d been too distracted by Fu Weishan’s attention—his mind constantly wandering—so the mistakes piled up. His colleagues had clearly been putting up with him for a while before finally snapping.

Yan Zishu said, “Being careless is just another form of irresponsibility. It’s shirking your duties. Do you agree?”

The words were harsh, without mercy. Ji Chen felt stung. His mouth opened, but he couldn’t argue.

Finally, he said bitterly, “Whatever you say is right. I admit it. I’ll take whatever comes.”

Yan Zishu was about to continue when his phone vibrated. He glanced at the screen—it was just a calendar reminder for tomorrow’s grand opening ceremony at Fu Jinchi’s hotel.

As he went to switch it off, Fu Jinchi’s call came through right on cue.

Yan Zishu rejected the call before it could ring once and went on with his reprimand. “You should know that last time—when you violated protocol in the exhibition hall—it was only because of President Fu that no one pursued the matter. But you can’t expect him to cover for you every time, can you?”

“I never expected President Fu to cover for me!” Ji Chen flared up. “Assistant Yan, I’m really not that kind of person!”

“Whether you admit it or not, that’s how others see you.” Yan Zishu’s tone was laced with sarcasm. “He’s courting you now, finding you fresh and exciting. Of course he’ll forgive anything. But to everyone else who follows the rules, this looks like favoritism.”

“But I haven’t accepted his pursuit…”

“Maybe not openly. But can you honestly say you’ve felt no pride? That you haven’t enjoyed the privileges he gave you?”

Behind his glasses, Yan Zishu’s sharp gaze seemed to pierce straight through him—and the words hit Ji Chen’s heart dead-on.

Sexually, he had never thought about liking men. His first reaction had always been to refuse.

But status-wise—Fu Weishan was someone lofty and unreachable—and that had sparked a secret sense of satisfaction:

So even someone like him would fall for me. I must be special, outstanding, desirable.

So the rejection wasn’t complete. And that contradiction tormented him.

Ji Chen bit his lip, soft black hair falling over his forehead. His flustered, panicked expression was pitiful—but the wrong audience sat before him.

“Anyway, go home and reflect. Hand me a written review tomorrow.” Yan Zishu leaned back in his chair. “That’s it for now. HR will handle the official consequences. Consider this a lesson. But think carefully about the things you really need to think about.”

The last line was heavy with hidden meaning, leaving Ji Chen dazed as he left.

After he was gone, Yan Zishu sat quietly for a while, lost in thought. Just as he stood to leave, another message popped up from the ever-persistent Fu Jinchi: “Did I interrupt your meeting? If daytime’s inconvenient, I’ll call tonight.”

At the time, Yan Zishu thought it was about finalizing details for the ribbon-cutting ceremony.

That was already set. As expected, Fu Weishan had said, “You go.” So Yan Zishu called Fu Jinchi back.

To his surprise, Fu Jinchi used that familiar, teasing tone and cheerfully said, “I know you’re a busy man, Assistant Yan—probably haven’t had time to check the internet today. Just wanted to remind you—have you seen the trending news about Yuan Mu’s pregnancy?”