Xavier Fosterno turned to glance at her, thinking Cecilia Ye looked adorable—maybe a little clueless, but still very cute.
The girl, still kneeling, swayed a bit and tipped over toward him. Xavier Fosterno stretched out his long arms and gently rested her fuzzy little head on his lap.
Fast asleep, she instinctively curled up, turning inward to find a comfortable position and lay still.
Her long lashes cast faint shadows; her pert little nose let out soft, warm breaths that brushed against his waist through his thin shirt, making his skin tingle.
He reached out to gently touch her delicate ear, then playfully pinched the soft, chubby earlobe. She didn’t wake.
Calling a servant to fetch a blanket, Xavier Fosterno bent down to tuck her in, then returned to his newspaper—though his hand didn’t stop lightly patting her back.
It wasn't until the servants had dinner ready and had set the table that Cecilia Ye finally woke up, rubbing her eyes.
Her face was rosy from sleep, and when she noticed she’d been lying on Xavier Fosterno, she looked a little embarrassed.
Xavier Fosterno set aside his newspaper and looked at her seriously. "It’s fine, you didn’t drool," he said.
Cecilia Ye reflexively wiped her mouth, which made him, for once, let out a rare laugh.
He reached out and pinched her flushed cheek—warm and soft, just as he expected, perfectly satisfying to the touch.
"Come eat dinner. You can sleep more afterward," he said, already bending over to pick Cecilia Ye up.
She let out a surprised yelp, wrapping her small arms around his neck. "Hey! Xavier Fosterno, I can walk myself!"
The servants were coming and going with the dishes; Cecilia Ye’s face was hot with embarrassment.
"Quiet. Your leg isn’t healed yet."
After setting her down by the table, Xavier Fosterno finally returned to his seat.
They ate quietly together. Cecilia Ye, just like a kitten, wasn’t picky, but hardly ate anything at all.
Xavier Fosterno scooped her a spoonful of the sweet corn she liked. "The New Year’s almost here. Work’s gotten busier at the company, so I might not be able to make it home every night."
Cecilia Ye paused, then nodded. "Okay."
"Is there anything you want for the New Year?"
She shook her head, swallowing the corn. "No, I don’t need any presents. Just focus on your work."
She bowed her head over her bowl, thinking: they're supposed to be getting divorced soon. Why would Xavier Fosterno bother with her? It’s not necessary.
After dinner, the domineering man carried her upstairs again.
*
Just as he had warned, Xavier Fosterno really did get busier. Sometimes he wouldn’t come home until one or two in the morning, sometimes staying overnight at the office.
In all these years, Cecilia Ye had only been to his office twice. She knew there was a big lounge in his office, so at least he could sleep comfortably. She, however, barely slept at all. When Xavier Fosterno didn’t come home, she was restless, plagued by nightmares and anxious thoughts.
It was already cold on winter mornings now, but the room stayed toasty. When Cecilia Ye woke up, she’d linger under the covers a good long while before getting up.
Strangely, she never used to feel so sleepy in winter; this year, she simply couldn’t sleep enough.
Thankfully, her leg had finally healed up and she was moving around freely again.
Climbing out of bed, she swept her long hair behind her and walked to the window.
When she drew back the curtains, a silver world unfolded outside—big, fluffy snowflakes were drifting down from the sky.
It snowed in Beijing* every winter, and now a soft white blanket covered the whole yard.
(Beijing is sometimes referred to as 'Newbridge' in Chinese fiction.)
She couldn’t help recalling that embrace and kiss in the snowy hot springs—the memory made her heart feel warm.
Xavier Fosterno hadn’t come home last night. Thinking of how busy he was, she found herself caring more than she wanted to admit.
Right around lunchtime, Henry Hart called.
Cecilia Ye was a little surprised; she and Henry Hart hardly ever spoke on the phone.
"Madam, there’s a document the President left on his desk in the study. Could you ask the driver to deliver it to him at the company? The company’s driver is at the airport picking someone up, but the President needs this urgently..."
Cecilia Ye cut in before he finished. "Sure—is it on the desk? I’ll ask someone to bring it over."
She turned to call the driver. Passing by the dining room, she noticed the table set with steamed fish—Xavier Fosterno’s favorite.
She paused, reconsidering. Maybe she should deliver it herself and bring him lunch along the way.
He’d always said the food at the company couldn’t compare to a homemade meal.
Cecilia Ye instructed the staff to pack up a meal, then went upstairs, neatly secured the document, and quickly changed clothes.
The weather was freezing. She wrapped herself in a red plaid scarf and wore a small hat—not looking at all like a president’s wife, but like a fresh-faced girl just out of school: bright and adorable.
She took the insulated meal box from the servant and headed out the door.
After the driver dropped her at the building, Cecilia Ye sent him back—she wasn’t sure how long her errand would take.
The Fu Group’s tower stood tall in downtown Beijing, all forty-nine stories visible from afar. Working here was a mark of distinction; in the city, landing a spot at Fu Group was a source of pride.
Cecilia Ye entered the ground floor lobby, but the elevators required an employee card to access.
She approached the front desk, hoping to find someone who could swipe her in.
There were several young women at the front, all in uniforms with light makeup, probably company policy.
Cecilia Ye walked up to one of them and politely asked, "Excuse me, could you please let me use the elevator?"
The receptionist sized her up, a bit startled by her beauty—just when had their company hired such a gorgeous girl? With those long, curled lashes and a delicate, upturned nose with a faint beauty mark, she was simply stunning.
Blinking a few times, the receptionist regained her composure. If this girl were an employee, she’d definitely remember. And that insulated meal canister… She must be someone’s family member.
Standing up slightly, the receptionist said, "Sorry, but employees have to swipe their own cards to go upstairs. If you have an invitation code, I’d need to check it before letting you up."
Cecilia Ye faltered; the last two times she’d come, it was always with Xavier Fosterno, and it had been ages since then. She hadn’t thought of this.
She smiled awkwardly. "Henry Hart asked me to deliver a document for Zhiyeno. He didn’t give me a code."
The receptionist froze—wait, was she talking about Assistant He and the President?
In all her years here, she’d never seen this girl before. Occasionally a few young women would claim to be the president’s sister or something, trying to get upstairs, but security always threw them out.
This one seemed gentle enough, but who knew what her story was.
Another receptionist with a ponytail came over, giving Cecilia Ye a once-over and scoffing, "Xiaoyu, why bother? She’s probably just pretending to have some connection with the president, trying to throw herself at him—just like that girl yesterday, cute as anything, but threw herself at the boss on sight."
Xiaoyu, the first receptionist, looked apologetically at Cecilia Ye. "Sorry, I really can’t let you up. Why not wait over there?"
She gestured toward the couches by the lobby wall.
Cecilia Ye nodded and went to sit, a little taken aback by how popular Zhiyeno must be.
She pulled out her phone to call him. The call rang and rang, but nobody answered; it eventually disconnected.
Maybe Zhiyeno was in a meeting. She called Henry Hart instead—still no answer.
Now she was starting to worry. She could wait, but what if the paperwork Xavier Fosterno needed got delayed?