The next morning, Little Rice Cake woke his parents right on time with a chorus of “ya-ya” babbling.

Fu Zhiyé got up and scooped the child into his arms. As he glanced at Little Rice Cake, yesterday’s events suddenly returned to him, and he snatched his phone from the table.

"Ding—ding—" "Ding ding ding ding—" The moment he unlocked his phone, a cascade of notifications poured in. For the first time, his usually smooth device even stuttered from the overload.

Chi Chi furrowed her delicate brows and gave Fu Zhiyé a reproachful look. "Fu Zhiyé!"

“Little Rice Cake, are you hungry? Good boy, Daddy will feed you now.” With their son in his arms, Fu Zhiyé made a quick escape out the door, eluding the edge of Chi Chi’s temper.

Staring at her phone—over ninety-nine private messages, forwarded posts all over Weibo—Chi Chi gave up and shut it. There was no way she’d be able to reply to all of that. She might as well wait until she got to the studio, where she could handle things on her computer.

She got out of bed, washed up, changed clothes, and headed downstairs.

Downstairs, Fu Zhiyé had already finished feeding Little Rice Cake. Chi Chi went over to give her son a hug before sitting at the table for breakfast.

Her beautiful eyes glared at the culprit. So much for “it won’t have any effect”—now her accounts were swamped.

Fu Zhiyé smiled as he poured her some soy milk, then sat down near their little one. Leaning back in his chair, long legs and all, his lashes dipped with a smile as he looked at Chi Chi.

“Baby, don’t be mad anymore.”

Chi Chi took a big bite of her mini meat bun, and turned her head away, ignoring him.

Fu Zhiyé edged closer. "How about I send two people from our company PR over to help you sort through all the messages? Sound good?"

Chi Chi finally looked his way. “But I already told Yao Yao we’d do it ourselves.”

His slender fingers reached over, gently wiping a bit of meat filling from the corner of her lips.

Fu Zhiyé earnestly reasoned, “I get it, you guys want to handle it on your own—the entire event, the whole plan was your baby from start to finish.”

“But just the two of you is exhausting. You handle the big decisions, and let the more tedious tasks go to professionals. That way, things run even smoother, right? Plus, you can learn how they handle information, see if it helps next time.”

The morning sun was especially beautiful, tinting her eyes a lovely shade of amber. Chi Chi paused, truly considering it. He had a point.

There were lots of things she and Yao Yao weren’t good at—painting was fine, but keeping up with Weibo or organizing all that information felt overwhelming.

Worse, all that time spent on admin left her too tired to focus on painting later. She got nothing done, and satisfaction slipped away. Chasing one thing meant sacrificing another.

Fu Zhiyé pushed his advantage. "And, Yao Yao’s pregnant, plus the wedding prep? She’s already overloaded. That’s too much to handle."

K.O.

With that, Chi Chi threw up her hands in defeat, cheeks puffed in exasperation. “Alright, alright. You arrange someone to look after the studio’s Weibo for me, then.”

Fu Zhiyé leaned in and kissed her cheek. “I just don’t want you working yourself ragged. Next time, once you’ve got the experience, I promise I won’t meddle, okay?”

“Mm, I know.” Chi Chi nestled against his chest, sipping the soy milk he’d lifted to her lips. “This time, I’ll be sure to learn from your people at the company.”

As she nibbled her meat bun, she murmured, “Zhiyé, it’s so hard to do something really well. Running such a big company—doesn’t it exhaust you?”

She remembered when Fu Zhiyé took over the Fu Group at just nineteen, juggling his studies at the same time. It must have been so hard on him.

“It’s not so bad. The Fu Group’s a mature company by now—I barely need to do anything. Even Henry Hart can handle it.”

Far away, as Henry Hart was filing today’s meeting notes, he suddenly sneezed, bemused, rubbing his nose. Was it chilly in here?

Much later, when Chi Chi became an acclaimed painter, managing countless exhibitions with perfect composure, she’d look back and realize just how much Fu Zhiyé had taught her, every step of the way.

After breakfast, the three of them headed out together; Little Rice Cake would tag along to the studio with his mom.

On the road, Fu Zhiyé arranged for assistants to meet them. By the time they arrived, the helpers were already booting up laptops, getting right to work on the tidal wave of Weibo notifications.

Thanks to retweets from the Fu Group and CG Group, anyone paying attention had figured out that this exhibition was intimately connected to both families.

People had long heard that Madam Fu was no orphan, but actually CG Group’s Charles Chase’s younger sister—and favored by the Fu family matriarch and patriarch.

Overnight, Chi Chi became the new darling among the socialites of Beijing—suddenly, every lady wanted to befriend her.

Naturally, the event kept growing, the best chance to gain charitable prestige and establish a connection to the Fus.

But Chi Chi had already made it clear: they’d only accept original, hand-painted pieces that met a certain level of quality and meaning.

So, those ladies who’d never picked up a brush found other ways; since their artwork wouldn’t make the cut, they’d just come buy a piece at the exhibition instead.

And so, preparations for the show steamed ahead.

With more help on hand, Mia Moore found herself chased out of the studio every day by Chi Chi.

"Yao Yao, just rest up at home! You have to be extra careful during the first three months of pregnancy. Plus, you still need to pick out your wedding dress—the photos aren’t even done, and the venue isn’t finalized. Quick, go home! Do you seriously want my brother making all these style decisions for you?"

Chi Chi was nagging so much she’d practically become a little mom herself. Mia Moore just shook her head in disbelief. “See? The minute you have kids, you start turning into a nag.”

…Mia Moore pinched her cheek and teased, “Mhm, you’ll be a full-time mom soon, too.”

With more people to help, Chi Chi could usually get home by two or three in the afternoon, ready to work on her unfinished painting.

While Little Rice Cake napped, she could dive into her art undisturbed.

The studio Fu Zhiyé had made didn’t match the vast Fu estate, but it was cozy, soaked in winter sunlight that made the place feel warm and bright.

With the heat always on, all she needed was a light outfit at home. Slipping into her white slippers and comfy loungewear, Chi Chi got right to work as soon as she arrived.

She wheeled her son’s stroller to the floor-to-ceiling windows, drawing the shade for his afternoon nap in the sun.

Pulling her apron from the wall, she rolled her sleeves to reveal slender, fair wrists. Her waist-length hair was gathered loosely in back, adding a casual, relaxed beauty.

Ever since their trip back from Clear Water Bay, she hadn’t had time to paint, what with being a new mom.

Now, the canvas before her showed a young girl stooping to tie her ballet shoes—a simple pencil sketch for now, but even the bare lines and movement made the girl look graceful, like a tiny, elegant swan.

Chi Chi gently touched the canvas, her palette still empty. She hadn’t squeezed out any paint yet.

Her gaze was gentle and serene, as if she were admiring her most cherished gift.

Sunlight scattered across her shoulder; her neck was as fair as snow, her lips curled into a quiet smile as she let out a soft breath.

Selecting colors from the box, she began to paint, utterly focused. When she got absorbed, nothing could distract her—clothes, hair, shoes smeared with paint, she didn’t care at all.

Little Rice Cake still slept in his carriage, and time itself seemed to slow, settling into tranquility and beauty.