Cecilia Ye irritably shoved at his chest, but the man in front of her was like a wall, easily blocking her feeble attempts.
Unable to push him or get past, Cecilia Ye glared up at him, her voice tinged with anger. “I don’t want to sleep next to you. I don’t want you to touch me. I don’t want you to hold me with the arms that once held Bai Yuzi, or come near me with lips that kissed her.”
Her eyes were red, glassy, and reflected Fu Zhiyie's frowning face.
Fu Zhiyie let her throw her little tantrum for a while like a kitten. His tone was cool when he said, “Nothing happened last night.”
Cecilia Ye was momentarily stunned. Fu Zhiyie almost never bothered to explain anything about his relationship with Bai Yuzi. In fact, it was always Bai Yuzi who'd come to tell her about their past.
Thinking of this, Cecilia Ye shook her head, disappointment filling her eyes.
“You didn’t come home last night, did you? Fu Zhiyie, I don’t want things to be like this either, but ever since I found out Bai Yuzi is at your company, I can’t help but imagine where you go when you don’t come back… like maybe you're with Bai Yuzi in your office and…”
Her voice bristled with anger, but Fu Zhiyie cut her off coldly, “Cecilia Ye!”
He lowered his head, wondering what kinds of nonsense this girl was thinking up again.
“She’s never been in my lounge. Didn’t I tell you? I would never cross any lines before our divorce. Have you just ignored everything I've said?”
Fu Zhiyie's words landed by her ear, cold and edged with a bit of gritted irritation.
“……”
Cecilia Ye found herself at a loss for words. Had she really just let her imagination run wild?
At that moment, the noise in the kitchen stopped as the blender finished grinding the soy milk, the beep-beep reminding her it was ready.
“I… my soy milk's ready.” Her thoughts were a mess; she just wanted to flee the scene.
The man on top of her didn’t budge and shot back, “It’s my soy milk.”
Only then did he finally—almost benevolently—straighten up, and Cecilia Ye let out a cautious breath.
The freshly made soy milk filled the air with a sweet fragrance. Cecilia Ye swallowed; she really craved it today.
Fu Zhiyie took a cup and poured her a serving. “It's hot. Wait a bit before you drink.”
He sidestepped her and placed the cup on the dining table outside.
“Nothing else? Only soy milk?”
Poor President Foster had stormed out of the company without breakfast and was now sulking here.
Cecilia Ye's face turned a little awkward. She’d only been focused on making soy milk, and the time spent fussing with the machine had made her forget everything else.
Fu Zhiyie pulled out his phone to order breakfast delivered.
“Living alone is great, huh?”
He rolled down his shirt sleeves, watching Cecilia Ye as he spoke.
“……” Cecilia Ye felt that Fu Zhiyie was particularly sardonic today.
Finally getting to drink her hot, freshly made red date soy milk, Cecilia Ye took several satisfied sips and decided not to argue with Fu Zhiyie right now.
But why did Fu Zhiyie seem to know how to do everything? She’d followed the instructions on the machine, after all.
The doorbell rang. Fu Zhiyie answered it as staff from the hotel carefully set breakfast on the table and then left.
What kind of secret was this? The hotel staff wondered to themselves—was President Foster keeping a mistress here? She was so beautiful…
Completely oblivious to such rumors, President Foster sat down grandly at the table and dug into breakfast.
There were crystal shrimp dumplings, steamed pork siu mai, and her favorite—oozy custard buns. Cecilia Ye reached for one.
Nibbling at her food with soy milk in small sips, she hesitated, then asked, “Fu Zhiyie, how do you know how to do everything? And how does that soy milk machine actually work?”
Fu Zhiyie popped a shrimp dumpling in his mouth, lifted his eyes to glance at her, and had no intention of explaining. “If you want it next time, just ask me to make it for you. Dummy.”
“……”
Cecilia Ye pouted silently at being called dumb.
“Why aren’t you at work yet?”
“…I’ll go soon.”
They finished breakfast, and true to his word, Fu Zhiyie left for the company.
With nothing to do, Cecilia Ye went to the study where she found a tiny pink sketchbook and used the computer to look up tips for pregnancy, carefully jotting notes into the book.
She spent the afternoon curled on the sofa watching TV.
She thought about finding Julian Jarvis one of these days, since if she moved out after the New Year, she’d need to look for an apartment beforehand.
She didn’t have much experience with this sort of thing, and figured Julian Jarvis was the only one she could ask.
That night, Fu Zhiyie didn’t come over. Cecilia Ye didn’t know if he slept at the company or went home.
Thinking about what he’d said during the day—about how Bai Yuzi had never been in his lounge—maybe it really meant they'd never spent the night together.
Cecilia Ye let out a sigh of relief; this time, she’d really misunderstood Fu Zhiyie.
But the moment she’d witnessed in the office—that closeness—she knew she hadn’t imagined.
As the night deepened, she took a bath and went to bed.
*
Fu Zhiyie spent the whole night in two back-to-back overseas video conferences, only crashing in the lounge after 2 a.m.
Next to Fu Group’s building was a hotel owned by the Fu family. If there were any business dinners or events, Henry Hart would book a room there for convenience.
This particular noon, Fu Zhiyie had an important lunch with Charles Chase, who had recently returned from abroad.
Charles Chase’s company in the capital was called GC Group. Although it couldn’t quite match the Fu family’s scale, Charles Chase’s main business was in Country Y, which happened to align with Fu Zhiyie’s plans for next year.
Charles Chase had only returned to China this year, claiming he was searching for someone, and planned to stay for a year or two while expanding his business in the capital.
The two hit it off, each recognizing the advantages of a partnership. Dealing with another smart person made things easy; Fu Zhiyie didn’t mind cooperating when it was mutually beneficial.
Henry Hart drove Fu Zhiyie to the hotel and then returned to the company—he had his hands full, especially around the New Year, and his schedule was even tighter than Fu Zhiyie’s.
Naturally, the hotel had a private room reserved for Fu Zhiyie. The manager greeted him respectfully and escorted him upstairs.