She wore a black haute couture dress. Around her neck gleamed the blue diamond necklace Fu Zhiyie had bought her, a picture of refined elegance.
Standing side by side, the difference was obvious. One resembled a regal black swan, while the other instantly looked tacky and unpleasant by comparison.
“With your work attitude, everyone here who takes this job seriously has the right to call you out.”
“Ha! So professional, bringing a kid along,” Xifei shot a disdainful look toward the stroller. “Little girl with a sharp tongue—does you no favors.”
There was a veiled threat in her words. Xifei swept her gaze over Chi Chi’s designer dress and jewelry, seething with envy. Why did she never have the luck to meet such a rich, gullible target?
“Kept intern, is that it? Do you even understand how things work?”
“Xifei, right?” Chi Chi’s expression grew frostier. She had no patience for women who maliciously judged their own kind. Her gaze turned cold and steely.
“You’re fired. Please leave now. Someone from the staff will discuss the remaining terms of your contract.”
“You—you’re crazy! Think you’re someone important?” Xifei marched forward in a fury, pointing at Chi Chi. “You’re the one who should get out!”
She spun around, yelling loudly, “Where’s the photographer? Who is this? Why aren’t you throwing her out?”
The small crowd nearby had been stunned into silence. To be honest, Xifei was exactly the kind of model they disliked—arrogant, lazy, and looking down on others.
Especially when her lack of professionalism wasted everyone's time.
The photographer finally stepped forward, looking left and right. Whatever patience he had was long used up by Xifei.
Looking Chi Chi up and down, he realized why she seemed so familiar. Not long ago, photos of Miss Ye and President Foster had topped the trending charts on Weibo—he thought those shots were fantastic and regretted not having been there himself.
“President Ye, I’ll see to it that she’s removed.”
He was well aware of this fashion line—Miss Ye’s own mokuhua series—and the investors were her as well.
Xifei’s eyes grew round as she watched their exchange. “What is wrong with you people...”
Before she could say more, staff members were already escorting her out forcefully.
At last, peace returned to the studio.
“Miss Ye, what should we do about today’s shoot?” someone asked.
Chi Chi smiled gently, regaining her calm and composed demeanor.
“Let’s all take a break for today. Li and I will reschedule the shoot, and you can come back once we’ve decided.”
“Feel free to explore the estate. The mokuhua series is inspired by spring outings and embracing nature—the grounds are perfect for that free-spirited mood.”
“Compared to the studio, the gardens can really capture that sense of freedom.”
Her voice was soft and sweet, flowing like a gentle stream. She spoke slowly and evenly, putting everyone at ease.
The photographer nodded. He’d had the same thought—these dresses were made for outdoor shots, and their fabrics would photograph best under the sunlight.
The shoot had always been planned with two parts, indoor and in the front gardens.
“I thought so too, but since this is someone’s private estate, I figured we’d be limited to just the front gardens?”
A staffer brought Chi Chi a cup of water, which she accepted with a smile before sipping and continuing.
“Actually, this belongs to my husband—it’s our family estate. Make yourselves at home. There’s still half a day left, so instead of wasting time on people who don’t matter, why not enjoy yourselves?”
“Wow, that’s amazing!” The photographer hid his surprise and grinned. “I’ll have everyone scout for good locations, then.”
“Great. When it’s time for lunch, just head to the main hall. I’ll have the staff prepare something. Since there’s no shoot for today, I’ll be heading home.”
With the schedule change, Chi Chi had no reason to stay any longer.
“Thank you so much.”
“No need for thanks.”
Chi Chi pushed Little Rice Cake’s stroller toward the door. As soon as her figure disappeared into the hall, whispers erupted behind her.
“Wow, so this whole estate belongs to Miss Ye’s family?”
“Ugh, can you believe that model? Mouthing off like that, calling someone a kept woman. Shameless.”
“Miss Ye and President Foster are so obviously in love. I swear, I ship them so hard my teeth hurt!”
...
After instructing the staff on lunch and telling the photographers to explore freely, Chi Chi stepped outside into the warm sunshine. From the stroller came lively coos—Little Rice Cake had woken up and was demanding attention.
Chi Chi fetched the bottle of warm milk from beneath the stroller and lifted the canopy.
“Hey, Rice Cake, you’re awake! Hungry?”
Little Rice Cake waved his tiny hands and giggled at his mom. As she fed him, Chi Chi took out her phone and called Fu Zhiyie.
On the other end, Fu Zhiyie had just wrapped up a meeting and returned to his office.
“Baby, what’s up?”
Chi Chi’s face was all smiles as she watched Little Rice Cake drink his milk. She replied lightly, “Nothing much, just wanted to let you know I’m heading home. The shoot ran into some trouble and needs to be rescheduled.”
Fu Zhiyie arched his eyebrow. “Trouble? Are you okay?”
“Don’t worry, it’s just that model wasn’t a good fit, so I fired her.”
“Haha, that’s my Chi Chi—so capable.”
“Don’t tease me. Anyway, I’ll take Rice Cake home first.”
Fu Zhiyie checked the time; it was almost lunchtime. “Don’t go home yet—wait for me, and you and our son can join me for lunch.”
“...Alright, I’ll wait here for you.”
“Mm.”
After hanging up, Fu Zhiyie grabbed his suit jacket and headed downstairs.
On his way out, he ran into Henry Hart. He paused. “I’m getting off work now.”
...
Henry Hart stared at the stack of files in his hands, lost in thought. It’s only 10:30. The boss has worked for barely an hour and a half.
...
He’s left work again.
While waiting for Fu Zhiyie, Chi Chi called Li to explain what happened. Li apologized repeatedly—she’d been too busy with Fashion Week to supervise every model selection, and promised it wouldn’t happen again.
Chi Chi was understanding. It seemed like that model was someone’s “placement”—she was genuinely curious to know who had such influence.
She ended the call and enjoyed the sunshine with Little Rice Cake, until she saw a car pull into the estate.
Fu Zhiyie stepped out and quickly came over, expertly folding down his son's stroller and carrying it one-handed.
“Were you cold, waiting outside?”
“No, the weather’s perfect today.”
“What do you want for lunch?”
“Let’s go home—I’ll cook for you.”
It was a rare bit of free time, so making a meal herself sounded nice.
Hearing her suggestion, they drove home toward Qinghe Residences.