The two of them went downstairs and got back into the car.
Fu Zhiyan leaned over to fasten her seatbelt and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips.
Cecilia broke into a smile, looping her arms around his neck as she whispered, “Zhiyan, I’m not afraid anymore. Everything’s in the past now. You’ll protect me, Mom will protect me, and even Grandpa Rivers and Grandma Rivers are here.”
“I don’t need to be scared of them anymore.”
Looking into her eyes, Fu Zhiyan saw none of the anxious fear she’d had before. His heart ached with relief as he nuzzled her nose, finally feeling the weight lift from his shoulders.
“Our Cecilia is amazing.”
“It’s not just us. When Little Rice Cake grows up, he’ll protect you too.”
Cecilia giggled. “Hehe, your calculations—Little Rice Cake’s probably heard it from home already, and he’s still just a baby.”
“Then we'll feed him more so he grows up fast.”
With this ordeal settled, life slipped back into its usual calm.
The two of them brought Little Rice Cake and returned to Qinghe Community.
Since the art exhibition, the studio’s reputation soared, and all kinds of collaboration offers poured in.
Cecilia threw herself wholeheartedly into work at the studio.
She began exploring different fields. Anything she didn’t understand, she’d come home and ask her husband. Fu Zhiyan would give just enough explanation to open her eyes—always leaving Cecilia inspired and enlightened.
With her horizons widened, she realized that pursuing her passion kept getting better and more fulfilling. The sense of achievement was intoxicating.
She didn’t take on too many projects; after all, money wasn’t an issue.
She made plans with the money from the 'Springtime' Foundation. In its name, a primary school was built in a poor mountainous area.
New books, new stationery, and clothes were delivered to children in need.
The studio received thank-you letters from across the country—pure, childlike, and heartfelt words of gratitude.
Besides that, Cecilia, among many offers, chose to work with her favorite designer.
Silk scarves and dresses featuring wood hibiscus prints slowly graced the covers of fashion magazines.
Time flew by, and soon, the year was drawing to a close.
The end of the year was always Fu Zhiyan’s busiest season, with barely a chance to slack off.
So it became Cecilia’s turn to bring lunch to the company.
It was only a ten-minute drive; Old Third was always waiting at the studio door, right on time.
Mia Moore was over four months pregnant now, and Charles Chase adored her beyond words. He’d bring her in the morning and pick her up at noon.
Cecilia didn’t want her frequenting the studio—Mia Moore didn’t have any sense of a pregnant woman’s limitations. Only with her brother watching over her could Cecilia feel at ease.
The studio hired new staff, so even with both bosses often away, there was still someone to look after things.
Photos from the art exhibition made their way into magazines. With the CEO occasionally flaunting his love life on Weibo, the front desk staff had long since memorized Cecilia’s face.
She was waved in directly; her card opened the turnstile, and she went straight to the private elevator.
The elevator rose to the 39th floor. At the office door, a young girl was hard at work, but looked up and greeted her politely, “Madam.”
“Mm, is Zhiyan in his office?” Cecilia smiled and asked.
Sometimes when she dropped by, Fu Zhiyan would be busy in the meeting room.
“He’s in.”
The frosted glass door made it impossible to see inside. Cecilia knocked and pushed it open.
Lost in work, Fu Zhiyan hadn’t noticed the time. His head was down, eyes on the document in his hands. He assumed a staffer was bringing coffee or paperwork.
Without looking up, he said, “Leave it on the desk.”
Cecilia watched him, amused. He had shed his suit jacket, now in a crisp white shirt with two buttons undone—a casual look, perhaps from staying in the office all morning.
When he was focused, his expression looked naturally cold and stern, his brows gently furrowed, and when displeased, he’d tap a finger on the desk’s edge.
No wonder they said men were most attractive when serious. Cecilia sat on the sofa, resting her chin in her hand, openly admiring her husband, a warm, gentle smile blooming on her face.
After a good ten minutes reviewing his papers, Fu Zhiyan finally looked up—and spotted his darling on the sofa.
“Baby, why didn’t you call out to me?”
Rising, he stretched his stiff neck and headed to the sofa.
“I saw you were busy, so I thought we could eat first—take a break and eat before getting back to it.”
Cecilia turned to unpack the food, her tone tinged with concern. “Why are you so busy lately? Is it your brother’s project?”
Fu Zhiyan sat beside her, pulling her gently into his arms and resting his chin on her shoulder, watching as she served him lunch.
“It’s not so bad, just that it’s the end of the year, and there’s a lot to review.”
“But as for Charles Chase’s project, it’s almost wrapped up. I’ll bring you something fun when it's done.”
The moment he saw Cecilia, all his weariness melted away.
“Alright, just don’t overwork yourself,” she said softly.
Fu Zhiyan gazed at her with affection, planted a kiss on her cheek, and replied, “I won’t. Now, let’s eat.”
They had lunch together, but soon Henry Hart came in, saying there was a last-minute meeting.
Fu Zhiyan had no choice but to ask Cecilia to rest and left the office.
The food was just right, her stomach comfortably full but not sleepy, so Cecilia stepped out for a stroll.
“Xiaobai, if Zhiyan comes out, let him know I’ve gone to the 18th floor to read.”
“Madam, you’re going to read? They just set up a new display section there recently. I think you’ll love it!”
The receptionist, knowing the CEO’s wife’s tastes, had even jotted them down on sticky notes—a fact now proudly put to use as she enthusiastically introduced the floor.
“Really? I’ll go see.”
Hearing this, Cecilia perked up, and Xiaobai hurried off to call the elevator for her.
Zhiyan had mentioned before: the 18th to 20th floors housed the gym, reading room, coffee shop—a recreational space for employees.
She’d always thought of exploring when bored, and apparently, there were even more new features now.
*Ding*
The elevator doors opened, releasing a wave of warmth into the quiet space.
Employees savored the hour and a half lunch break here, recharging themselves with books.
The city glimmered with post-snow brightness beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. Under the cold blue sky, it was the perfect spot to find peace.
By the window were wooden desks and chairs, as well as sofas. Some people worked on laptops or made notes, while others simply rested. It felt a bit like a college library, but with a more relaxed vibe.
Cecilia had left her coat upstairs, now wearing a cream-white sweater—soft, cozy—and a pink fishtail skirt. Her long black hair, neat and glossy, spilled down her back.
The sweet, soft girl stood out among the sharply dressed office workers—like a sudden blossom of peach in winter’s snowy world.
She attracted more than a few curious glances as she walked in.
When did the company get such a pretty young lady? She looked like a fresh graduate.
Cecilia walked to the art section of the bookshelf. The shelves were packed and well-organized, and to her delight, they had books she’d been meaning to read for ages.
She picked out two and headed to the front desk, where a kindly woman with reading glasses managed lending—aunties retired from the company’s partner schools and hospitals often took such support roles at Fu Corp.
Cecilia set the books on the desk and said politely, “Hello, Auntie. Can I check these out?”
Her fair, pretty looks and respectful manner instantly endeared her to elders.
“Of course, all these can be borrowed. Just swipe your staff card for me.”
Cecilia patted her pockets—Zhiyan had given her a company card for convenience, but she’d left it in her coat in her hurry downstairs.
She was just about to say she’d fetch it, when a card was handed over next to her.
“Auntie, use mine. I’ll return them for her later.”
Cecilia looked up. The hand belonged to a cheerful young man with a bright, friendly smile and clear eyes.
“Ah, that’s not necessary. My card’s just upstairs...”
“No problem, happy to help. What’s your name? Are you new here?”
He grinned, waving his card. “I’m Liu Yu—nice to meet you.”
Sure enough, his badge read “Liu Yu,” complete with an ID photo.
Cecilia was about to answer when a cold voice sounded at the door.