MG CH10

As they spoke, the internal phone in Fu Jinchi’s office rang loudly. He didn’t let go of the chair’s backrest, leveraging his long arms and legs to reach over with his other hand to pick it up. He responded with a few “mm”s, unclear if it was urgent, and finally said lightly, “Wait there.”

Yan Zishu stood quickly. “Looks like you’re busy, so I’ll head out.”

Fu Jinchi didn’t stop him this time but handed him an invitation to a new hotel’s opening before he left. “Pass this to my brother.”

“Alright.” Yan Zishu glanced at it.

“But it’ll probably be you showing up, right?”

“Depends on Mr. Fu’s decision.”

“Your Mr. Fu definitely won’t come. He’d rather spend three hours chasing his boy over French food than attend some illegitimate kid’s hotel ribbon-cutting. See you then.”

“…Mm.”

Fu Jinchi personally saw Yan Zishu to the teahouse entrance. The valet had his car ready.

On the way back, Yan Zishu hit peak-hour traffic, stuck in a standstill.

Cars clogged the intersection, horns blaring irritably.

Bored and unable to work, he let his thoughts wander, glancing at his phone intermittently. His eyes fell on the invitation beside him. He tapped the date into his memo.

Fu Jinchi had guessed right. Fu Weishan would likely skip the event to woo his latest interest, sending Yan Zishu instead.

Then his mind drifted to Fu Jinchi himself. The man had a refined yet roguish air, tossing out “please,” “thank you,” and “sorry” like they cost nothing, while barely concealing his scheming nature.

Yan Zishu had reason to believe Fu Jinchi’s constant “my brother” references were deliberate jabs at Fu Weishan.

He could even imagine that if the two had grown up together, Fu Jinchi would’ve been a devilish troublemaker, the kind to drive the legitimate heir Fu Weishan up the wall with no recourse—a natural-born menace.

The light turned green, and traffic moved. Yan Zishu chuckled, finding the image apt.

He pushed stray thoughts aside, following the car ahead and patiently accelerating.

He still had to report to Fu Weishan.

*

At this point, the plot seemed to diverge.

Per the original story, Yan Zishu was supposed to ruthlessly eliminate Yuan Mu and her unborn child.

Instead, choosing legality, he failed the negotiation and returned empty-handed.

There was no helping it. Even if he bent the law, context mattered. Dealing with a man was one thing, but harming a woman and child went against his principles, no matter how displeased Fu Weishan might be.

Fu Weishan was, unsurprisingly, furious, spitting out coldly, “Bitch.”

Yan Zishu could only apologize for his incompetence, offering no further explanation.

He stood expressionless, taking the blame, but inwardly grumbled: if the boss wasn’t such a reckless womanizer, why was his top assistant constantly handling Fu Weishan’s personal scandals instead of company operations or strategy?

Since Yuan Mu wouldn’t budge, it meant Fu Weishan’s offer wasn’t enough. They’d have to negotiate later.

But a minor mistress daring to defy authority and bite back? That was an outrage.

Fu Weishan’s anger simmered, erupting when he found a minor error in a work document.

Yan Zishu stood by, head bowed, absorbing the tirade.

The secretarial department, adjacent to the president’s office, overheard Yan Zishu’s scolding. Since the document error stemmed from their team, everyone held their breath, dreading a chain-reaction reckoning.

When Yan Zishu emerged, everyone buried themselves in work, saying nothing, asking nothing.

Only Helen approached with a stack of contracts, tactfully asking, “Is now a good time to show these to Mr. Fu?”

Yan Zishu smiled. “Probably not today. Try the day after tomorrow.”

Helen nodded, returning to warn the team, “Mr. Fu’s a fire-breathing dragon for the next two days. Don’t provoke him!”

Yan Zishu returned to his desk, resuming work as usual.

That evening, unexpectedly, Fu Jinchi called to check in, bluntly asking, “So, did you get chewed out when you got back?”

His light chuckle carried over the line, tinged with an ambiguous intimacy.

Yan Zishu closed his laptop, sighing. “I’m starting to suspect you’ve got cameras in the president’s office too.”

“I’d need some serious pull to manage that,” Fu Jinchi laughed. “No cameras, no informants—just a guess. I know my brother loves to take his mistakes out on others. He’s been like that since we were kids. You don’t know him…”

Yan Zishu chuckled. “What, are you holding a recorder, trying to trick me into badmouthing my boss to use as leverage?”

“No need for such crude tactics. But I’d welcome you jumping ship willingly.”

“And the purpose of this call?”

“Oh, right, just a heads-up,” Fu Jinchi said. “About Ms. Yuan—I was just stirring the pot for fun. But she and her family are tangled with other Fus. You were smart to stay out of it. Saves you from being caught in the middle.”

Though Yan Zishu hadn’t dug deeply, he wasn’t surprised. Plenty of people wanted to climb into Fu Weishan’s bed, and plenty wanted to send others there too—all with clean facades but intricate webs behind them.

He was, however, surprised Fu Jinchi would share this with him.

Yan Zishu thanked him impassively and hung up.

If not for the plot’s constraints, he might’ve considered jumping ship to Fu Jinchi’s side to save himself the headache.

*

Yuan Mu’s refusal to quietly abort the child was an unexpected hassle for Fu Weishan.

Not only did he dismiss Yuan Mu, but even her father, whom he’d met at the golf course, was just another small-time player eager to caddy for him.

Yet, on the flip side, though Yuan Mu’s father was a minor upstart, he’d still managed to share a golf course with Fu Weishan, fawning over elites and inching toward high society.

As Fu Jinchi hinted, Yuan’s father had indeed connected with other Fus, striking cooperative deals.

Money could buy anything, even the chance to elevate his daughter to Mrs. Fu Weishan.

It wasn’t long before Fu Weishan was summoned back to the Fu family, with Yan Zishu escorting him.

The old Fu family mansion sat halfway up the hillside. Several clan uncles, with their honeyed words and elder authority, pressured Fu Weishan. Their insinuations were clear: since he’d gotten a girl pregnant, causing a scandal with an illegitimate child, he might as well settle it by making it official.

Their arguments began with lofty ties of kinship, clan, and blood, then shifted to concrete interests—projects, shares, investments. It was a classic mix of courtesy before force.

Finally, the respected Third Uncle, Fu Zhizhang’s younger brother, played the neutral mediator. “These days, it’s all about reproductive rights, which lie with the mother, right? If the child’s mother insists on giving birth, what can we do? The key is to resolve this with minimal cost, especially since the Yuan family is a partner in certain areas…”

Fu Weishan nearly laughed in exasperation.

When this woman was sent to his bed, she was just a plaything.

Now, having schemed to carry his child, she’d become some untouchable lady?

This Third Uncle, so submissive when Fu Zhizhang was alive, had subtly grown into a leading figure in recent years.

The Fu family head wasn’t a formal title—it went to whoever held the most power and influence.

As a younger relative, Fu Weishan was at a disadvantage in authority. He could act tough against Third Uncle and the others, but he couldn’t ignore their control over family assets and shares, each backed by intricate webs of interests.

Though Fu Zhizhang had once subdued dissenters ruthlessly, death dimmed his influence. Fu Weishan, his son, seemed polished but lacked his father’s iron fist.

Yan Zishu watched coldly as the meeting at the mansion ended in discord.

From Fu Weishan’s perspective, he despised this unborn child and saw himself as the victim.

Yet, an odd feeling lingered, as if this matter shouldn’t have been so complicated.

In the original plot, a single order to his assistant would’ve made Yuan Mu and her child vanish silently, sparing Fu Weishan any guilt or dirty work.

Indeed, in the story, Yan Zishu had eliminated the rival and quietly handled the Yuan family’s backlash.

In reality, his orders to those tailing Yuan Mu were simple: Watch.

Just watch.

Yuan Mu, quick to react, moved to a new residence, always accompanied by two nannies, seemingly well-protected.

Yan Zishu had glimpsed her once from afar, strutting confidently with her pregnant belly, before driving away.

His passive stalling left the situation in a stalemate.

More than a standoff between Fu Weishan and Yuan Mu, it felt like one between Fu Weishan and himself.

Since the protagonist refused to taint his moral image, he couldn’t outright say, “Get rid of her and the kid.”

So Yan Zishu played dumb, even curious to see how it would all end.

No one wanted to be the executioner, yet the child was forming day by day. Would it be born smoothly?

*

Fortunately, for now, the illegitimate child rumor stayed within the Fu family.

Yuan Mu, still hoping for a peaceful resolution, hadn’t gone public to avoid burning bridges with Fu Weishan.

This “fortune” was for Fu Weishan, as it hadn’t affected his relationship with the protagonist’s love interest.

Fu Weishan was in the thick of his romance with Ji Chen, keeping him in the dark about the sordid family secrets.

To outsiders, Fu Weishan maintained his successful persona—working, socializing, and entertaining as usual.

Compared to Yuan Mu’s greed, Ji Chen’s innocent lack of ambition was especially precious in a man’s eyes.

Yan Zishu could see that what began as a cat-and-mouse game for Fu Weishan had, over time, developed into something more genuine.

After Ji Chen nearly got fired, the “magnanimous” president not only kept him but took a shine to him.

Fu Weishan then strategically pursued him, creating opportunities to get close, showering him with gifts, and appearing together frequently.

By now, this romantic gossip was old news at Yinghan.

Ji Chen riding the VIP elevator, sitting at the executive table in the cafeteria, or casually entering Fu Weishan’s office—such privileges no longer raised eyebrows.

The only topics left to speculate on were whether Fu had “sealed the deal” and if they’d go public.

More people began cozying up to Ji Chen, though tactfully, never piercing the delicate veil.

It was as if Fu Weishan had carved out a vacuum world for him, subtly enveloping him within it.

Sometimes, even Yan Zishu was amazed—how could Ji Chen still be oblivious to Fu Weishan’s intentions?

“Assistant Yan.” Ji Chen poked his head into the president’s office, seeing it empty, and stepped inside. “Is Mr. Fu still in a meeting?”

“Yes.” Yan Zishu set his phone face-down, hiding a new photo of Yuan Mu. “Looking for him?”

“No, actually, I’m looking for you.” Ji Chen glanced around, a bit shy. “I just wanted to ask if Mr. Fu’s been busy lately?”