Lights burned in the CEO’s office. The man leaned back in his spacious chair, a half-smoked cigarette between his fingers.
A faint tobacco scent clung to the sharp, chill air around him as he pressed his fingers to his temples, then stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray.
Unperturbed, he listened to the endless ringing of his unanswered call. She really dared not pick up.
Something occurred to Fu Zhiyue, and he opened WeChat, scrolling to Cecilia Ye’s Moments. Sure enough, today’s photos were there.
He flicked through them one by one, slow and attentive, and on those cold, angular features appeared the barest trace of softness.
Cecilia Ye’s smile in the photos was bright and carefree, clearly having a great time.
So, it turns out that even when she’s not with him, she can still be this happy. Maybe it made sense—lately, every time they were together he’d ended up making her cry.
But as he scrolled, Fu Zhiyue’s smile faded. His brow furrowed.
Didn’t she say she went skiing with Mia Moore?
Then… who was taking the photos?
He pressed the office intercom. “Henry Hart, find out who went to Heming Mountain skiing with Cecilia.”
He massaged his brow. 'Cecilia Ye, you’d better not be lying to me.'
Henry Hart called back quickly. “Sir, madam went with Mia Moore, and a man named Julian Jarvis.”
The steel pen in Fu Zhiyue’s hand hit the desk with a sharp thud. The coldness on his face deepened at once.
Julian Jarvis. Him again.
Why hadn’t Cecilia Ye told him Julian Jarvis was there too?
Could it be that she was actually this eager to divorce him, just to be with Julian Jarvis?
The thought of those photos made Fu Zhiyue’s expression thunderous.
So, in front of Julian Jarvis she could be that happy?
But when she was with him, she only ever wanted to run away.
His fingers gripping the phone turned stark white. Fu Zhiyue barked, “Bring my car to the entrance. Now.”
He snatched his coat, hung up, and strode downstairs.
His black Maybach slipped into the night, heading straight for Heming Mountain.
Over forty minutes later, he arrived at the mountain’s base, then drove another half an hour upward. It started to snow along the winding road.
Fu Zhiyue clenched the wheel, his eyes glinting cold in the falling snow, speeding with reckless abandon.
The two-hour journey took barely over an hour. At the mountaintop hotel, the manager came rushing out.
“President Foster! You came in person?”
This ski resort was one Fu Corporation had invested in—another reason Fu Zhiyue could rest easy with Cecilia Ye coming here.
“Give me the room card.”
Fu Zhiyue took it from the manager and strode straight to the room upstairs.
Watching the tall, striking figure, the manager squinted in suspicion. President Foster, showing up at one in the morning? Was he catching his wife cheating? Shaking his head, he forced the ridiculous thought away.
Inside the room, Cecilia Ye was already fast asleep, entirely unaware that someone had entered.
Fu Zhiyue looked at her—her delicate cheeks were flushed, lips turned up in a faint dream-smile.
Half his anger melted away. Hmph, even sleeping alone she could look this pleased.
He sat on the edge of the bed, picked up her phone from the bedside table—sure enough, none of his calls had been seen.
Outside, the snow cast a silvery light over the grounds, filling the room with a chilly glow.
Shedding his snow-dusted coat, he warmed his hands before gently stroking Cecilia Ye’s cheek.
He had to admit: Cecilia Ye’s photos today were beautiful—like a little snow spirit.
More like a baby bunny.
Maybe his touch disturbed her—Cecilia Ye mumbled, rolling over in her sleep.
Fu Zhiyue frowned, sliding his hand beneath the covers to scoop Cecilia Ye up.
Naturally, the sleeping woman had no idea who invaded at this hour—she only sensed someone sneaking into her room.
When those arms wrapped around her waist, Cecilia Ye jolted awake, about to scream.
But within a split second, his lips sealed hers—a deep, fierce kiss swallowing her cries.
She tried to push her assailant off, kicking and struggling.
But those hands were like iron, locked around her waist, her legs pinned down too.
He effortlessly lifted her, sitting her on his lap like a child. Instinctively, Cecilia Ye gripped his shirt, tears springing as fear overwhelmed her.
Feeling the salt of her tears, Fu Zhiyue finally released her trembling lips. His voice was hoarse. “Why so scared? It’s me.”
Cecilia Ye froze. In the faint light, she stared at the man before her. Realizing it was his familiar face, her heart finally steadied.
But now, wobbly-lipped, she felt wronged. Why show up in the middle of the night just to frighten her?
Fu Zhiyue saw her aggrieved look and couldn’t help but crack a smile out of exasperation. “I saw your posts on Moments.”
“Hmm?”
Cecilia Ye blinked back tears, confused. So what?
“Who took your photos?” His tone frosted. Warm breath tickled her neck.
Cecilia Ye shivered and answered softly, “Julian Jarvis took them. We bumped into him on the way.”
She didn’t know why she was explaining herself—maybe because Fu Zhiyue’s jealousy over Julian Jarvis had been all too evident before.
“He’s Yaoyao’s brother, and… my friend. So we all went together.”
The hand around her waist grew tighter, making Cecilia Ye’s words trail off.
With teary eyes, she gazed at Fu Zhiyue, who was staring right back at her.
Being held so close made Cecilia Ye blush, quickly lowering her head.
“Well, since you sneaked out to play with other men and ignored my calls, that kiss was your punishment.”
“The calls? I’m sorry, I forgot to check my phone. I was so tired I just fell asleep.”
She knew if she missed his calls, Fu Zhiyue would definitely worry.
“I’m tired too. Let’s sleep.”
He picked her up and tucked her gently back under the quilts, climbing into bed himself.
Cecilia Ye had no chance to protest before he pulled her into his arms.
“Sleep,” his cool voice commanded.
For some reason, the anger he’d felt earlier vanished. He’d meant to drag her back in a fit of rage, but seeing her so startled and obedient, his heart softened all at once.
He only wanted to hold her close.
Cecilia Ye really was exhausted. She still didn’t know why Fu Zhiyue would come all the way here in the middle of the night, but with his familiar woodsy scent enveloping her, she drifted to sleep, more at ease than ever.
She slept soundly, all the way to daybreak.
Cecilia Ye was changing when Fu Zhiyue, already dressed, settled into the living room.
“Aah! What are you doing here?!”
Mia Moore’s voice rang out from the living room. Anyone would be startled, finding someone who shouldn’t be there sprawled on the couch first thing in the morning.
In her pajamas, Mia Moore darted right back into her room to get changed.
Damn! I’ll deal with you later!
Hearing the commotion, Cecilia Ye came out, looking puzzled. “Is Yaoyao up?”
Fu Zhiyue hummed, pulling her down to sit and carefully tidying her collar, then placing her hat atop her head.
“Did you get the hang of it yesterday?”
Cecilia Ye shook her head, “I’m hopeless. Skiing’s too hard—I don’t think I’ll ever learn.”
“Then your teacher was useless. I’ll show you today.”
A confident, slightly scornful look appeared on his handsome face. Clearly, he suspected it was Julian Jarvis who’d tried and failed to teach her yesterday.
Mia Moore emerged just in time to catch him disparaging her brother. “Excuse you! My brother’s a pro, okay? Skating teams are dying to recruit him!”
Fu Zhiyue raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Still not my problem.”
Watching the two face off, Cecilia Ye felt a headache coming. She tugged timidly at Fu Zhiyue’s sleeve, her wide, pleading eyes asking for peace.
Choosing to ignore Mia Moore, Fu Zhiyue focused on Cecilia Ye, pulling on her gloves for her again.
Just then, Julian Jarvis knocked and, catching sight of Fu Zhiyue settled smugly on the sofa, couldn’t help but scowl.
Hah, seriously? How possessive could this guy get?