MG CH2
Fu Jinchi, the Fu family’s illegitimate son with a precarious status.
In a centuries-old, traditional tycoon family like the Fus, with their vast wealth and intricate relationships, complexity was inevitable.
Fu Weishan’s father, Fu Zhizhang, was a formidable man. Through a tumultuous rise to power, he subdued restless elders, paving the way for Fu Weishan to legitimately inherit the Fu family’s empire. But he also left Fu Weishan with a complication—a half-brother.
Fu Weishan’s late mother was the rightful matriarch, while Fu Jinchi’s mother was merely a singer at a Fu family nightclub. Their statuses were worlds apart. Yet, before Fu Zhizhang had any children with his wife, he fathered a son with the singer, perhaps holding her in a special place in his heart.
In a family as grand as the Fus, scandals and illegitimate children were common, but few were ever acknowledged. However, after the singer’s death, Fu Zhizhang not only brought Fu Jinchi home to be recognized but also gave him a name laden with ambition: “A golden dragon is no mere creature of the pond; with the right winds, it soars.” The implication was extraordinary.
The matriarch, Madam Fu, was livid, not just because of her husband’s bastard son but also because of the audacity of Fu Jinchi’s name. No one could fathom what Fu Zhizhang was thinking.
Some speculated he intended to elevate this illegitimate son, but in the end, he entrusted Fu Jinchi with only a fraction of the family’s catering and entertainment businesses, including the nightclub where his mother once performed. Fu Weishan remained the rightful heir.
In the past, Fu Jinchi appeared harmless, indulging in horse racing, dancing, and chasing beauties, a textbook playboy. Yet Madam Fu despised and feared him. After her terminal cancer diagnosis, she went to extreme lengths to exile him to Hong Kong.
It wasn’t until Madam Fu’s death last year—fulfilling her vow to never share a bed or grave with Fu Zhizhang, their tombstones placed far apart—that Fu Jinchi returned to Dongcheng. No one could bar him; he was, after all, a Fu recognized by Fu Zhizhang.
Yan Zishu said, “Mr. Fu, you’re too kind. I’ve long heard of your reputation.”
Fu Jinchi, though a playboy, was also a gentleman. Seeing Yan Zishu deftly deflect his offer, he stepped back without pressing further.
Helen sighed in relief.
After Yan Zishu’s announcement, Fu Jinchi entered Fu Weishan’s office, and the brothers spoke behind closed doors. Yan Zishu didn’t care about the content—whether it was provocation or a declaration of war, it didn’t matter. As long as they didn’t come to blows, he had no need to intervene.
He even spared a glance toward the secretarial department but didn’t see Ji Chen.
Without prior knowledge, who could imagine that this ambitious “Young Master Fu” would one day clash with Fu Weishan not just over family assets but, more dramatically, over a man?
Thinking of Ji Chen’s youthful, fair face, Yan Zishu mentally corrected “man” to “boy.”
He knew that as Fu Weishan gradually fell for Ji Chen, Fu Jinchi would also take an interest in him. Perhaps initially to humiliate Fu Weishan, Fu Jinchi would approach, flirt with, and seduce Ji Chen, only to fall into his own trap, ensnared by love. But that was all in the future.
The CEO’s office was always swamped with work, and after Fu Jinchi left, Yan Zishu didn’t dwell on it.
After the lunch break, the business department submitted a pile of documents needing signatures.
Helen, head of the secretarial department, tasked Ji Chen with organizing them and bringing them to Yan Zishu for review. If they passed muster, they’d go to Fu Weishan for signing.
But Yan Zishu took one look and saw nothing but problems.
The documents were numerous, belonging to several different handlers, clearly accumulated over time. Expense reports, contracts, statements, and proposals were haphazardly stacked, utterly disorganized.
Looking at Ji Chen standing carelessly before his desk, Yan Zishu felt a headache coming on.
Making things difficult for the protagonist in work matters?
He polished his glasses, put them back on, and felt it was Ji Chen making things difficult for him.
Even if the plot didn’t require him to make things difficult for Ji Chen, back in his original world, if the administrative department dared to submit such shoddy work, Yan Zishu would have chewed them out mercilessly and sent it back.
Suppressing his irritation, Yan Zishu took the stack of documents from the folder and spread them across his desk in front of Ji Chen.
The CEO’s office was a suite, with Fu Weishan inside and Yan Zishu outside, separated by frosted glass. To avoid disturbing his boss, Yan Zishu kept his voice low—soft but firm.
“Let me go through this step by step. First, as a new intern, it’s understandable that you’re unfamiliar with company operations, but I expect you to show a serious attitude. Documents sent for a superior’s signature should be sorted by type. That’s the most basic skill for a secretary. You don’t just pass along whatever others dump on you like it’s trash.”
Ji Chen’s face flushed again, and he mumbled, “Mm.”
“Second, you’re not responsible for the content of documents sent for signing, but you should at least perform basic checks. These two expense reports don’t even match in their written and numerical amounts. The attachments are wrong, the approval forms are wrong—elementary mistakes anyone could spot without expertise. I’ll have Helen hold the responsible parties accountable, but next time, I expect you to catch these yourself.”
Ji Chen mumbled another “Mm,” twisting his fingers nervously.
“Third, this proposal for updating regulations—your department submitted it. Who wrote it?”
“Uh, that was me… Ben asked me to write it.”
Yan Zishu understood immediately. Ben had slacked off, pushing his work onto the newbie. But it didn’t matter. Yan Zishu was meant to play the malicious cannon fodder who targeted the protagonist, not some all-seeing judge.
“I’ve never seen such a error-riddled document,” he said, his slender fingers tapping the paper. It was the truth. “A proposal for a meeting—how hard can it be? I don’t understand how you managed to produce this. Take it back. Whether it’s you or Ben, rewrite it. I’ll pretend I never saw this version.”
Under Yan Zishu’s cool, scrutinizing gaze, Ji Chen’s face went from red to pale.
Like a student facing a teacher’s scolding after failing an exam, he mustered some courage. “Then… could you teach me how to write it?”
“Sorry, I can’t. That’s the fourth point,” Yan Zishu said. “Asking questions is good, but this is a company, not a school. I pointed out your mistakes on Helen’s behalf, but that doesn’t mean I have time to guide you through every little task.”
His tone was restrained, but sharp. “You should know there are plenty of reference materials on the company’s shared drive. Maybe you didn’t bother looking, or maybe you couldn’t understand them. Either way, you should consult your direct supervisor instead of wasting others’ time indiscriminately. Xiao Ji, think before you act, alright?”
“Got it… I understand,” Ji Chen said, head bowed, stung by the veiled jab at his intelligence.
“Alright, you can go.”
On the internal line, Helen apologized profusely. “Yes, yes, Assistant Yan, this is my fault for not checking properly. The last intern was sharp and handled everything flawlessly, so I got used to giving them free rein. This Ji Chen, though, seems a bit slow. He needs hand-holding… No, that’s not an excuse. I’ll make sure someone guides him better. It won’t happen again…”
Yan Zishu thought to himself, You’re wrong. There’ll probably be plenty more times.
Hanging up, Helen sighed inwardly. They were all university students hired through interviews—why was the gap in ability so wide?
The folder of documents was handed to Amy to sort. She worked quickly and accurately to ensure they’d reach Fu Weishan for signing without delay.
Ji Chen spent the entire afternoon on one task: rewriting the proposal based on existing templates. Helen just wanted to give him something to practice on, hoping slow and steady would yield results, but he struggled. His drafts were rejected repeatedly, leaving him sweating anxiously.
Ben gloated, mocking Ji Chen, saying anyone would think he was drafting a life-or-death company plan.
After several revisions, past regular hours, Helen finally approved it. “Send it to me. I’ll personally deliver it to the CEO tomorrow.” She grabbed her handbag, slipped on her trench coat, and prepared to leave. Everyone else had already gone home.
Ji Chen nodded.
But a small spark of determination flickered in him, urging him to prove himself. As he left the secretarial department, he noticed the CEO’s office still lit. He paused, stood for a moment, then resolutely turned back.
With the printed proposal in hand, Ji Chen gathered his courage and pushed open the door.
Yan Zishu wasn’t at his desk.
Hesitating and glancing around, Ji Chen heard Fu Weishan’s voice from the inner office. “Yan Zishu, come here.”
Ji Chen hurried over. “Mr. Fu, Assistant Yan isn’t out here.”
Fu Weishan, unsurprisingly, didn’t recall their morning encounter. “Who are you? How did you get in?”
Ji Chen, nervous, gave a shy smile. “I’m Ji Chen, a new intern in the secretarial department.”
That smile—so reminiscent of someone—made Fu Weishan freeze for a moment. He even stood up. “You…”
“Mr. Fu, are you alright?”
“No, it’s nothing.”
Fu Weishan recovered from his brief lapse.
He sat back down, regaining his polished demeanor. “Since you’re an intern, why are you still here? Working late?”
Ji Chen nodded, adding, “I just didn’t expect you to be working late too. I guess being a leader is tough.”
Fu Weishan’s lips curved slightly. “As a company’s leader, you naturally have to put in more effort than others.”
Ji Chen let out an enlightened “Oh,” his eyes sparkling with admiration.
His reaction was pleasing to men. Fu Weishan’s smile deepened.
They chatted casually for a few minutes. When Yan Zishu returned from a call, Fu Weishan instructed him to reserve a table at a French restaurant with live opera performances, where a full meal could easily cost a fortune per person.
Yan Zishu knew this well, as he often booked tables there for Fu Weishan and his various romantic partners—men and women alike. The restaurant still had a bottle of red wine Fu Weishan had opened last time.
“The usual?”
“Of course.”
Ji Chen watched their exchange, puzzled.
Fu Weishan said, “Since you’re working this late, it’s only right for the boss to treat an employee to a meal. Don’t you think?”
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