[“The new project you mentioned last time, is the company called Runyuan?”]

On May 17th, Zhou Leqi returned to work at SWD’s Beijing office.

Her foot injury had improved significantly—she no longer needed a wheelchair. However, as the saying goes, “A hundred days to heal from an injury to the bone,” so she still needed more time to recover. Initially, she considered buying crutches to help her get around, but after some thought, she decided against it, feeling it would be too exaggerated and unattractive. After testing it out, she found she could walk on her own as long as she wore flat shoes and was careful. Though there was still a noticeable limp, it looked far better than using crutches.

The subway ride went smoothly, but the extended walking distance put pressure on her injured ankle, and by the time she reached the office, it had started to ache faintly. To make matters worse, she was already ten minutes late.

She acted as if everything was normal, smiling and greeting her colleagues whom she hadn’t seen in over a month. Everyone responded, but their gazes were subtly strange.

She felt an inexplicable unease growing inside her.

After sitting down at her desk, she exchanged a few casual words with Cici, who sat next to her. They were part of the same intern batch; Zhou Leqi had even helped Cici through some tough situations before. Their relationship was good, and they had recently collaborated on the Pielno project, so naturally, they had plenty to talk about.

Cici, ever the warm-hearted one, chatted briefly about work before leaning closer to Zhou Leqi, lowering her voice to ask, “Lucky, did you see Simon’s email?”

Simon? Email?

Zhou Leqi frowned and shook her head.

Cici glanced around cautiously, lowering her voice even further. “I’ll forward it to you... take a look.”

With that, she quickly operated on her computer. A moment later, Zhou Leqi’s phone beeped, notifying her of a new email.

Upon opening it… she saw that it was a defamatory email sent by Zeng Ruihong to the entire company half a month ago.

In the email, he falsely accused her of having an inappropriate romantic relationship with Pei Qiming and claimed that he had been marginalized by Pei Qiming and treated unfairly by the company.

…Complete nonsense, all lies.

Zhou Leqi finally understood why everyone’s gazes had seemed strange today.

She took a deep breath, trying to stay calm, and asked Cici, “What about President Pei? What did he say?”

This email had been sent half a month ago, and Zeng Ruihong hadn’t copied her on it, leaving her completely unaware until now. Pei Qiming hadn’t mentioned it either, which meant he must have already handled it on his own.

“President Pei, of course, stood up for you. He personally explained things to Jason,” Cici whispered to Zhou Leqi. “But…”

She didn’t finish her sentence, but Zhou Leqi understood: But no one in the company believed it.

This was troublesome.

Office romances were taboo in any company, especially when one party was part of the leadership. Companies typically handled such situations by firing one of the individuals involved. Although Pei Qiming had always enjoyed Director Jason’s trust, if the entire company remained skeptical of her relationship with Pei Qiming, Jason would undoubtedly find himself in a difficult position.

Zhou Leqi pondered for a moment, glancing toward the distant VP office. Through the transparent partition, she saw Pei Qiming working. After some thought, she decided not to approach him in front of everyone and instead sent him a message, inviting him to lunch.

Despite the inconvenience, Zhou Leqi chose a restaurant two kilometers away from the company, located in a mall. It served Yunnan cuisine, and colleagues rarely ventured this far for lunch, making it convenient for her and Pei Qiming to meet and talk privately.

He arrived five minutes early, picked a seat, and waited for her. When she entered the restaurant, he noticed her limping gait immediately.

Surprised, he quickly got up to assist her, helping her sit down while frowning and asking, “What happened? How did you get injured?”

Zhou Leqi hadn’t told Pei Qiming about her injury before, only mentioning that she had been robbed and lost her passport. At his question, she simply replied lightly, “It’s nothing serious, just a sprained ankle. It’s almost healed.”

He sat down across from her, still frowning, and asked again, “Where did you hurt it? In Italy?”

When she nodded, his expression grew even more serious. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Zhou Leqi smiled, already flipping through the menu. Casually, she replied, “You didn’t tell me about Simon’s email either. I guess we’re even.”

Pei Qiming fell silent.

“You already know?”

“I heard about it,” she replied. “And the way my colleagues were looking at me was pretty obvious.”

Pei Qiming sighed. “I’ve already discussed this with Jason. He believes it’s Simon’s deliberate retaliation and slander. He said we should focus on our work and not worry about it.”

Zhou Leqi shrugged, not saying much, but her attitude clearly reflected skepticism.

Pei Qiming noticed her concern. As a mature man, he reassured her confidently, “Just focus on your work. Leave everything else to me.”

These were comforting words, but they couldn’t dispel Zhou Leqi’s doubts. After Hou Zihao, she had stopped trusting or relying on anyone entirely, including Pei Qiming. It wasn’t that she doubted his reliability—it was that she believed she had no justification to lean on him.

They were friends and colleagues, and in such relationships, dependence wasn’t appropriate; reciprocity mattered more.

She didn’t want to burden him.

“Pei Qiming,” she suddenly switched to a more formal tone, addressing him as a friend rather than a superior. “Of course, I’ll do my best to focus on my work, but sometimes rumors are beyond our control. If they start affecting our work and development, I might consider resigning.”

Investment banking wasn’t limited to SWD alone. While it was a top-tier firm with greater opportunities, it didn’t mean she wouldn’t find another place to work elsewhere. She refused to let rumors tarnish her reputation. Public opinion could drown a person, and if the industry continued to believe she advanced because of her personal relationship with Pei Qiming, what would all her hard work mean?

She refused to endure such injustice.

Pei Qiming knew her character well, but he hadn’t expected her to already consider resignation. After recovering from his surprise, he quickly tried to dissuade her. “Don’t rush into anything. It’s not that serious. You’ve done exceptionally well at SWD. Why give up everything you’ve worked so hard for because of someone’s baseless rumors?”

He spoke seriously, but inwardly, another thought crossed his mind.

If Lucky really left SWD, might there be a chance for them to…?

His thoughts wavered slightly.

Zhou Leqi, however, didn’t notice Pei Qiming’s brief distraction. Her mind was still focused on work. After hearing his words, she smiled and said, “Of course, I won’t impulsively quit right now. I’m just saying it’s a possibility. I don’t want you to feel caught in the middle.”

Pausing for a moment, she added lightheartedly, “Besides, even if I do quit, I’d wait until after I get my year-end bonus. I can’t let a whole year of work go to waste.”

Her money-minded demeanor made him both amused and exasperated.

She seemed eager to change the subject, so she called the waiter over to order food. While waiting, she shifted the conversation back to work, her expression more serious than before. “The new project you mentioned last time—the company is called Runyuan, right?”

Pei Qiming nodded. “It’s a real estate company. It’s been growing rapidly in recent years and also operates in the service sector. Its scope is vast, and it’s planning to go public.”

“Whose resource is this?” she asked.

“Jason’s,” he replied. “He has a personal connection with Runyuan’s chairman—they’re members of the same golf club.”

Zhou Leqi smiled. “In this line of work, resources matter. Maybe I should get a membership card someday.”

Pei Qiming chuckled and shook his head. “Let’s set aside the idea of a membership card for now. The key is to handle this project well. Jason emphasized its importance.”

“Of course, I’ll take it seriously,” Zhou Leqi nodded. “When does the project start? I can begin reviewing materials this afternoon.”

“No need to rush,” Pei Qiming sipped some Pu’er tea. “Alvin and Daisy are currently reviewing it. You’ve just returned from Italy—you should rest a bit first.”

Zhou Leqi smiled, appreciating her boss’s thoughtfulness, but politely declined his offer. “No need—I’m not that tired. I’ll chat with the two of them this afternoon about the project. Have people from Runyuan visited our company yet?”

“Not officially. We haven’t started discussing the project or initiated due diligence,” he replied, clearly exasperated by her relentless work ethic. “Take it easy. Don’t push yourself too hard. Your mom will blame me if she finds out, thinking I’m overworking you.”

She laughed, her eyes curving. “Don’t worry. My mom understands.”

In reality, Yu Qing wasn’t as “understanding” as Zhou Leqi claimed.

Yu Qing cared deeply about her daughter. Every time she saw Zhou Leqi staying up late for work, her heart ached. That evening, when Zhou Leqi brought home a stack of documents and showed no signs of sleeping even after eleven o’clock, Yu Qing became worried. She began preparing a late-night snack while complaining that investment banking was too stressful and suggested that girls shouldn’t pursue such careers. Instead, she proposed that Zhou Leqi take the civil service exam for a more relaxed and comfortable life.

Zhou Leqi pretended not to hear.

Yu Qing sighed, placing a bowl of tangyuan (glutinous rice balls) next to her daughter and pulling up a chair to sit beside her. She hesitated, wanting to say something but unsure how to phrase it.

Zhou Leqi sighed, closing the materials in front of her, and looked up. “Mom, do you have something to say to me?”

Yu Qing sighed again, equally conflicted, carefully choosing her words. Finally, she hesitantly asked, “Qiqi, in Rome… did you really see Xiao Hou?”

Zhou Leqi froze, realizing that Yu Qing was referring to that vague phone call weeks ago. At the time, Zhou Leqi had told her mother ambiguously that she “thought” she had encountered Hou Zihao, concealing the truth to avoid worrying her.

Initially, she had planned to tell Yu Qing the truth, but now… she and Hou Zihao had completely ended things. Perhaps it was better not to bring up those useless words anymore?

After a pause, Zhou Leqi answered, “No, I was mistaken. It was just a passerby who resembled him.”

Yu Qing responded with relief—or perhaps lingering worry. Her gaze was filled with concern and tenderness for her daughter. Zhou Leqi knew what was on her mother’s mind. She smiled, set aside her materials, and gently wrapped her arms around her mother’s shoulders.

“Mom, don’t worry,” she said softly. “This time, I’m really fine.”

“It’s all over.”

Her tone was heavy, sincere, and heartfelt. After seven years of clinging to him, Yu Qing found it hard to judge whether her daughter truly meant what she said. All she could do was agree and awkwardly suggest, “That’s good, that’s good… Ah, how busy is Xiao Pei lately? With you being so busy, doesn’t he, as a leader, have even more on his plate? Why don’t you invite him over for dinner sometime? I’ll cook something delicious for him…”

…Every word sounded like an attempt to play matchmaker, hoping to erase the pain Hou Zihao had left behind through a new romance.

Zhou Leqi knew her mother meant well, but hearing these words now—when both she and Pei Qiming were already embroiled in chaos thanks to Zeng Ruihong’s email—felt…

Sigh.