Chapter 152: Don't Say Sorry

The two of them swept through the secretary department like a gust of wind, leaving behind only two backs whose faces hadn't been seen yet, and that striking red.

Chen Yu is the secretary who has been by Zhou Yinhe's side the longest, and also the most perceptive and thoughtful.

Several others gathered around Chen Yu, whispering, "Is the future boss lady good-looking? I see the boss still holding a red rose in his hand."

Chen Yu tsked, shook his head, and sighed, "Our boss is a total love-brain."

He talked about that time the boss brought back red roses from outside, and how every time he entered the office he could see the boss standing silently before the flowers.

The women present felt downright delighted after hearing that.

Whenever the boss came to the company, he would treat their secretary department terribly; knowing the boss's weak side, how could they not feel pleased?

Upon entering the office, Wen Ling hadn't even had a chance to speak when Zhou Yinhe had already closed and locked the office door.

The roses were placed on the desk; Wen Ling blinked, and Zhou Yinhe had already strode back, lowering his head to kiss her.

Wen Ling was lost in this not‑brief tenderness, her eyes unfocused, hearing Zhou Yinhe murmur something; she strained to make it out for a long while before realizing he had just said sorry.

Her arm rested on Zhou Yinhe's shoulder as she tiptoed to press a light kiss to his cheek again.

"Don't say sorry, I don't like those three words."

Whether before or after she returned, any of the things that happened between them were never really their intention, so nobody should say sorry.

Yet Zhou Yinhe still felt uneasy; Wen Ling curved her lips, earnestly coaxing him, coaxing for a long while until everyone in the office had left and the sky grew dark, coaxing until Ning Qing called, asking why they hadn't come home yet, as the family waited for them to eat dinner.

Wen Ling tilted her head dazedly, watching Zhou Yinhe bend to answer the phone; after he hung up she rose and leaned against his shoulder, letting out a tired yawn.

"I didn't sleep at noon; now I'm exhausted."

Zhou Yinhe slipped one arm around her waist, lifted her, and walked into the restroom of the lounge.

He knows how to enjoy himself—this lounge is practically larger than his office; previously, when Zhou Yinhe worked late and didn't want to go home, he rested here, so everything is well stocked.

But there was no women's body wash, so Wen Ling had to make do with his.

On the way to Hui Feng Qi Yuan, whenever there was a red light, Zhou Yinhe would pull over, using the tip of his nose to rub against Wen Ling's neck.

That same shower gel scent, the sole dark thought that arose in Zhou Yinhe's heart was that his aroma had left an exclusive mark on this pure flower, Wen Ling.

At this moment, Wen Ling didn't mind his affection at all; after all, they had just finished, and the flutter in their hearts had not yet subsided.

Returning to Feng Qi Yuan, what surprised Wen Ling was that, besides Zhou Qiyue still abroad, even Zhou Shuanglin, who had been away these two days, had come back.

Seeing Zhou Yinhe, he said in a flat tone, "I heard you went to the office today only because your eldest brother forced you to."

Zhou Yinhe and Wen Ling sat down opposite him, casually giving an affirmative hum.

"You're already this old, yet you're just like when you were in school—after work you still have to come pick him up." Zhou Shuanglin always found his youngest son's laid‑back manner eyesore, so his tone grew even harsher.

Ning Qing loved nothing more than seeing her son and future daughter‑in‑law together, sweet and affectionate; hearing her husband's words, she smiled at Wen Ling while lifting her foot and stomping hard on Zhou Shuanglin's instep.

Fortunately she was wearing slippers; otherwise Zhou Shuanglin would surely have ended up in the hospital with a broken metatarsal.

"Don't lecture my son as soon as we start eating; if you don't, just wait in the living room."

Ning Qing is exactly the type who says she can do something, but no one else—including Zhou Shuanglin—can.

"……" Zhou Shuanglin clenched his teeth in resentment, yet still shot Zhou Yinhe a fierce glare.

Zhou Yinhe acted as if he hadn't seen it, like a robot programmed to behave; as soon as he reached the dinner table he began attending to Wen Ling's meal.

If this were the first time, they would surely glance now and then at the Zhou family's pampered young master who had actually learned to serve people; but now that Zhou Yinhe and Wen Ling have dined together many times, the Zhou household has grown accustomed to it, rarely turning their eyes toward them as each eats their own food.

Zhou Congyu, busy with work, often doesn't return to Feng Qi Yuan, but tonight he also plans to stay over.

His room and Zhou Yinhe's are on the same floor, a U‑shaped villa whose two wings have been decorated in two different styles.

Between them is a modest living room; just then the outside suddenly began a torrential downpour, Zhou Congyu sat on the sofa watching financial news, saw Zhou Yinhe slowly descending the stairs, withdrew his gaze disdainfully, and said flatly, "I thought you were planning to loaf on the third floor tonight."

Zhou Yinhe walked over, flopped onto the sofa beside him, gave a lazy yawn, and said, "If Mom allowed, I'd stay down here, but who knew I'd just sat down when Mom rushed in and kicked me out."

Zhou Congyu snorted without restraint; Zhou Yinhe being bullied by his two older brothers today had already become somewhat routine, so he didn't bother taking Zhou Congyu's laugh to heart.

"Planning to come back and stay a few days?"

Zhou Yinhe shook his head, "Depending on Wen Ling—she likes it here, plans to stay a few more days to keep Mom and her sister‑in‑law company."

"Ah Ling is far more sensible than you." Zhou Congyu laughed helplessly, shaking his head.

He praised Wen Ling; Zhou Yinhe naturally accepted it readily, and certainly wouldn't mind Zhou Congyu having scolded him before then praising Wen Ling.

Regarding his younger brother's thick‑skinnedness, Zhou Congyu had nothing to say.

Night deepened; Zhou Congyu finally rose from the sofa, preparing to return to his room to rest, while Zhou Yinhe turned around and headed straight for the stairs to the third floor.

"Really." Zhou Congyu laughed at his lack of ambition, out of sight out of mind, better to pretend he didn't know.

As for Zhou Yinhe, once on the third floor he directly opened Wen Ling's bedroom door.

Wen Ling wasn't asleep yet, waiting for him, because before Zhou Yinhe went downstairs he had quietly told her that late at night he would come to lull her to sleep.

Seeing Zhou Yinhe enter, Wen Ling sat up on the bed, crawled to the bedside, raised her arms to embrace him, and murmured softly, "I've been waiting for you so long—why did you only come now?"

"Second brother was downstairs; I stayed a while to watch the news with him, and Mom had just fallen asleep—if I'd come up earlier I'd definitely have been caught."

Zhou Yinhe held her tight, one hand resting on the back of her head with slight pressure, pressing her against his shoulder.

"Sleep, I'll stay with you."

He didn't actually intend to sleep; he planned to lull Wen Ling to sleep then return to his own room, but just in case something happened, he had already locked his door before leaving.

Wen Ling rubbed her shoulder against his, being tucked into the blanket by him, watching him adjust the air‑conditioner temperature, and whispered something.