Chapter Eleven

A month passed in the blink of an eye. It felt as though much had happened, yet at the same time, nothing at all. In the days that followed, Fu Chen truly never returned to the office, spending most of his time in the study, regardless of whether it was day or night.

As the end of the month approached, Shen Huaiqing needed to go to the magazine company to establish targets and plans for the coming month. She tidied up briefly, dusted a light layer of foundation over her already fair skin to make it appear even smoother, and paired a nude lipstick with an understated makeup look that highlighted her refined demeanor.

By the time she arrived in the conference room, all the department heads were already seated in order. Shen Huaiqing took the central seat naturally, with Yu Yunxi on her right, who nodded to everyone in greeting.

Each department head reported, in turn, on the month’s revenue and changes in their client base, providing real-time feedback from readers as well. It was no wonder this team had risen to become one of Nancheng’s premier magazines in just a few years—everyone’s dedication and effort were evident to all.

“Excellent. This is my first official meeting with all of you; previously, I only communicated one-on-one with Editor-in-Chief Yu. I’m sure you’re all aware of my background, but please don’t judge me through a tinted lens. I truly want to lead everyone forward and take our magazine to new heights. We must work together, and I hope for your support.” Sitting upright, Shen Huaiqing spoke sincerely, without a trace of arrogance.

The people on both sides of the table nodded in agreement, and even Yu Yunxi’s gaze toward her held a new note of affirmation.

“Let’s move on to the main topic. If anyone has suggestions about the themes or structure for next month’s issue, please share them.”

“Miss Shen, we’ve already sketched out an idea. The general direction revolves around working women. July is graduation season for most universities, and since our primary audience is female, focusing on workplace fashion should be a safe bet. Paired with a few feature articles, I believe this issue will sell exceptionally well,” Yu Yunxi said slowly.

Shen Huaiqing pondered for a moment before promptly deciding to proceed with Yu Yunxi’s proposal for the upcoming issue.

As they moved on to finalize the details and Shen Huaiqing was about to adjourn the meeting, an employee near the end of the table suddenly spoke up.

“Hello, Miss Shen. I’m from the illustration department, and I need to report something to you. Most of the illustrations in our magazine are original works by our department, but occasionally, we select outstanding pieces from the web. We just received a call from the assistant of Miss Lin Yiqing, an Italian artist. She said Miss Lin would like to create an illustration for our next issue free of charge; all we need to do is email her the theme. Since this is rather unusual, I thought you should make the final decision.” The young woman, clearly just out of college, sounded nervous, her words trembling just a little at the end.

Shen Huaiqing responded decisively, “Since it’s free and she’s a renowned artist, there’s no reason to refuse. Proceed as she requests. That will be all for today.”

With her mind weighed down by worries, Shen Huaiqing stepped out of the conference room and immediately collided into a man’s chest. She cursed her luck under her breath—misfortune truly comes in pairs. Looking up, she met a pair of familiar eyes.

“Sorry,” Shen Huaiqing said, not wanting to complicate matters further. She walked briskly away, but suddenly felt a sharp pain in her wrist as someone pulled her back.

“Sister Song Hui?” Mu Jinghuai’s face was filled with confusion, his handsome brows knitted together. He remembered every detail about Song Hui—there was no way he could be mistaken.

The moment those two words escaped his lips, Shen Huaiqing felt as if her body was nothing but a bombed-out ruin, hollow and void. She forced herself to appear calm.

“Little brother, I’m not Song Hui. I made that clear at the interview. Besides, in this company, I’m your superior, so please show some respect.” Shen Huaiqing shook off his hand, her voice icy and her eyes filled with impatience.

“Impossible.” Mu Jinghuai’s dark pupils fixed on her face, searching for any flaw, but he found nothing—only the hint of disdain in her fox-like eyes.

“If you insist on pestering me here, I’ll call security. We won’t need your services any longer, either.” She dared not meet Mu Jinghuai’s gaze. She was afraid she’d waver, afraid she’d take the wrong path.

Her life could withstand no more detours. This was her sole chance to turn everything around, and she couldn’t allow Mu Jinghuai to be the one to ruin it.

Mu Jinghuai, just like your name, you always carry hope. Bathed in sunlight, while I can only seek a sliver of survival in the damp, decaying soil. We are fundamentally different. I have no way back, but you still do.

So go. The farther from me, the better.

It was as if Mu Jinghuai could hear her inner voice. He said nothing more and left of his own accord. He had come to the company that day to sign his contract as a full-time model. He hadn’t expected to run into Shen Huaiqing, nor that she would so firmly deny her identity. He had no idea what she’d been through over the years.

But he would never forget that rainy day.

“I don’t have a father anymore.” The girl sat on the moss-covered stone steps, her long black hair soaked through, her pure white socks muddied, her face streaked with rain and tears, indistinguishable from each other.

The boy stood beside her, holding an umbrella for her, then sat beside her on the steps. The narrow alley was deserted, a shallow layer of rainwater on the ground. Raindrops fell, forming circles that appeared and faded, one after another, encircling the girl’s tragic life.

“My father is your father.” The boy’s voice was childish, but filled with conviction.

The girl slowly turned her head, not looking at him directly, her gaze lowered to her red leather shoes. Clenching her fists, she shouted with all her might, “My father is dead! I don’t have a father anymore! Do you even know what death is? You don’t know anything!”

With that, she turned and ran off. The boy watched her flee into the rain, his ankles feeling as if weighed down by stones, unable to move.

After that day, Song Hui and her mother moved away from the small town.

On that day, Song Hui sat in the back of a moving van, her small body wedged among the furniture as she helped support her mother.

Mu Jinghuai tried to say goodbye, but his mother seized his arm tightly.

“Don’t you know how her father died? It’s bad luck! Why bother?” the middle-aged woman muttered, her words sharp and deliberately loud, as if meant for others to hear.

Mu Jinghuai deeply resented his mother’s words. He only knew, even then, that none of it was Song Hui’s fault. He struggled to shake off his mother’s grip, and when he looked up, he saw Song Hui sitting across from him in the truck, her long eyes filled with faint resentment.

Growing more anxious, Mu Jinghuai summoned all his strength to break free and ran toward the truck.

But just as he approached, the truck suddenly roared to life, belching black exhaust that stung his eyes and sent him into a fit of coughing.

When he opened his eyes again, the vehicle was already a mere black dot in the distance.