Chapter 89: A Bit Too Naive

In the past, Fan Shengmei may have truly considered being with Wang Baichuan, but ever since she learned the truth that his car was rented, she would never entertain such a thought. No matter what kind of person she was herself, she looked down on Wang Baichuan—deeply, from the bottom of her heart—with an innate sense of superiority.

Being scrutinized by a man she had never regarded as worthy, Fan Shengmei felt somewhat humiliated. I can look down on you—but how dare you look down on me?

How could a mountain rooster ever match a phoenix? How could a toad dare dream of eating a swan?

To Fan Shengmei, Wang Baichuan was nothing but a mountain rooster, nothing but a toad.

To be honest, Fan Shengmei might even need to reflect: as a phoenix, a swan, where exactly did she fail to give Wang Baichuan this misplaced confidence?

But none of this mattered much—Wang Baichuan would probably never reappear in her life again. In this vast, neon-drenched metropolis, this glittering, intoxicating Shiliyangchang , how many people even knew her? She talked herself into peace, restored her mood shattered by Wang Baichuan, and became once more the seductive urban beauty.

A girl’s intuition made Qiu Yingying notice Fan Shengmei’s odd behavior. After asking once and being smoothly dodged, Qiu Yingying mentioned it to Guan Juer, then dropped the whole matter—she had no time for such trivialities.

After hearing it from Qiu Yingying, the perceptive Guan Juer, amid her passionate romance with Zhao Qiping, took a moment to observe. She too noticed Fan Shengmei’s oddness, but said nothing—instead, on the way to work, she told An Di.

“An Di, Qiu Yingying told me a couple days ago that Sister Fan seemed off. I watched her, and she really is. She and Wang classmate seem to have had a falling-out—they haven’t contacted each other lately.”

“Alright, I’ll keep an eye on it.” After hearing this, An Di—who understood the full context and knew exactly what kind of person Fan Shengmei was—immediately grasped what was going on.

To be honest, her feelings toward Fan Shengmei were still mixed. In her interactions, Fan Shengmei was a bit slick, but she’d actively help when needed—like during the gossip incident, or as described by Qiu Yingying and Guan Juer. Yet after seeing her other face, An Di couldn’t say she disliked her, but she did harbor quiet reservations, making it hard for her to grow close to Fan Shengmei.

An Di dropped the subject of Fan Shengmei and said, “How’s things going with Dr. Zhao? Qiu Yingying said you came home very late the day before yesterday?”

Guan Juer’s face instantly flushed red: “Qiu Yingying, you big mouth—I’ll never forgive you.”

“Qiu Yingying was just worried about you—you looked worn out when you got back. She thought you might’ve been mistreated and wanted Wang Yan to help you get revenge.”

An Di defended Qiu Yingying. She hadn’t expected that Guan Juer, the refined, gentle lady, had advanced this far with Dr. Zhao in just a month. But then she remembered how quickly things had moved between her and Wang Yan, so she let it go—when feelings are right, expressing love this way is normal. Besides, she trusted Zhao Qiping. Though he sometimes acted impulsively, it was just to relieve work stress, and he was fundamentally responsible.

Seeing Guan Juer’s flushed, mortified face, An Di laughed: “Alright, alright, let’s drop it. Let’s get together sometime—how about dinner at my place? Dr. Zhao’s been nagging for ages, saying he wants to taste Wang Da’s cooking.”

“Won’t that be too much trouble for Brother Wang?”

“No problem. You don’t know—when Qiu Yingying told him, he was thrilled. He even called Dr. Zhao and said something like…”

“Oh, An Di, stop! I know Brother Wang is good to me…”

An Di shrugged, stopped teasing Guan Juer, and focused on driving.

Soon, they arrived at the company building. Guan Juer got out, paused, then turned back and tapped on the car door. When the window rolled down, she leaned in and said: “An Di, I’m not sure if I should say this, but Sister Fan seems to really love going to places full of the rich and powerful—every time she comes back, she’s ecstatic.”

An Di shook her head with a smile: “Alright, I understand. Bye.” Watching Guan Juer enter the office building, An Di started the car and merged back into traffic.

At noon, at a restaurant near An Di’s company.

Watching An Di, distracted across from him, Wang Yan shook his head in silence. He didn’t need to think—he knew it was either about Fan Shengmei or Qu Xiaoxiao. An Di had gotten sly—no longer direct. Dammit, if you’ve got something to say, just say it! Why make me ask?

He picked up a chopstick, took a bite, and said calmly: “Get to the point. Then let’s eat.”

“It’s about Little Fan. I didn’t tell you before…” Hearing this, An Di recounted the whole story. “I don’t know if I should help her. What do you think?”

“You think inviting her to the gala pushed her deeper in?” Seeing An Di nod, Wang Yan continued: “When you were hesitating, you’d already wavered. Fan Shengmei is an adult with her own thoughts—she must take responsibility for every choice she makes.”

Hearing this, An Di took a bite, ate silently. After a while, she said to Wang Yan: “There’s a gala tonight. Are you coming?” She’d decided: she’d take Fan Shengmei to the gala, as a quiet repayment to a neighbor who’d once helped her.

Wang Yan wasn’t surprised by An Di’s choice. She wouldn’t realize the condescending charity hidden deep in her heart.

Wang Yan shook his head: “I won’t go. It’s pointless.” That kind of gala—called charity, but in essence no different from Qu Xiaoxiao’s little circle—was all about expanding networks, then privately exchanging resources and favors for mutual gain. In Shanghai’s business circles, he was just an unknown nobody with nothing to offer. Those above him didn’t care; those below him didn’t need him. Why bother?

An Di nodded and shifted to other topics.

After lunch, back at the office, An Di called Fan Shengmei and invited her to join her at the gala that night.

Fan Shengmei’s oddness wasn’t about Wang Baichuan—it was because for the past few days, the men who used to swarm around her, impossible to shoo away, had vanished, making her wonder if she was still beautiful. She worried—thirty years old, still this beautiful, with an uncertain future ahead.

When she got An Di’s call and heard it was a gathering of the elite, she nearly jumped for joy. After work, she chatted and laughed with An Di, who came to pick her up, and went home happily. An Di, watching her, saw no trace of the oddness Guan Juer had mentioned, and couldn’t help feeling a little sorry for Wang Baichuan.

As in the drama, Fan Shengmei spent hours preparing—wearing a bright red, form-fitting dress that accentuated her slender curves, making anyone who saw her yearn to glimpse the alluring body hidden beneath the crimson fabric—how utterly seductive.

An Di offered a polite, appropriate smile at the sight. She said nothing, went downstairs, started the car, and drove her to a luxury hotel.

Fan Shengmei had never been to such an upscale place before. She pulled out her phone, snapping photos, planning to show them off to her girlfriends and coworkers later.

This scene was witnessed by Qu Xiaoxiao’s older brother, Qu Lianjie, from nearby.

That bright red dress, combined with her careful, performative photography—Qu Lianjie, an experienced player, understood it perfectly. He could read her like a book. And he was precisely the one who wanted to glimpse the alluring body hidden beneath the red fabric.

Without a word, it was natural—they began chatting, laughing together…

An Di found a corner to sit alone. She found the whole thing pointless—she wouldn’t have brought Fan Shengmei here if not for her.

After a while, Tan Zongming approached: “An Di, came alone? Where’s Wang Yan?”

“He thought it was pointless. I brought a neighbor—wanted to cheer her up.” She glanced over at Fan Shengmei, laughing with Qu Lianjie.

Following An Di’s gaze, Tan Zongming instantly recognized what kind of person Fan Shengmei was. He said nothing.

Before Tan Zongming could speak, An Di noticed Bao Yifan, wrapped in a coat, scanning the room. “Who’s that guy?”

“Him?” Tan Zongming pointed. Seeing An Di nod, he continued: “Young Master Bao of the Bao Group—the one you mentioned before who refused to work with you. What? Now you’re interested in a partnership?”

“No. I just think he’s overly flashy.”

Bao Yifan, chatting merrily with others, noticed them and walked over with his booming voice: “Hey, Boss Tan! I’ve been looking all over for you—this corner’s so quiet!”

Noticing Tan Zongming’s scrutiny, Bao Yifan explained: “Got a cold. Sorry.” He glanced at the man beside him, who promptly removed his coat.

“Ah, I thought so! Young Master Bao, your health comes first.”

“No big deal, thanks for your concern, Boss Tan.” Bao Yifan waved dismissively, gestured toward An Di, and said: “This is…”

“Oh, let me introduce you.” Tan Zongming realized. He turned to An Di: “This is Young Master Bao of the Bao Group—Bao Yifan. This is our group’s CFO, An Di.”

“An Di? I’ve heard Boss Tan mention you…” Bao Yifan flattered her, then handed out his card: “Pleasure to meet you, Miss An Di. Here’s my card.”

An Di politely responded, took the card, exchanged a nod with Tan Zongming, then turned and called Fan Shengmei—who was still chatting merrily—and left.

“Interesting.”

Seeing Bao Yifan stare meaningfully at An Di’s retreating back, Tan Zongming explained: “Don’t mind her—she just got back from abroad and isn’t familiar with local customs yet. This is her first time at a gala like this.”

“Why would I? I’ve heard so many lies, they’ve become truth. Occasionally hearing someone speak plainly feels refreshing. To be honest, I like her personality.”

Tan Zongming said coolly: “Young Master Bao, I must remind you.”

“I’m all ears.”

“She has a boyfriend—and they’ll be marrying soon. I hope you’ll keep that in mind.”

Bao Yifan shrugged and laughed: “Boss Tan, you’re joking. I’m only interested in business. And Miss An Di seems to have some prejudice against me.”

“I hope so. Excuse me.”

“Alright.” Watching Tan Zongming walk away, Bao Yifan’s lips curled slightly…

An Di and Fan Shengmei laughed as they walked out the main door, got into the car the doorman had brought around. An Di bent to fasten her seatbelt—then looked up to see Bao Yifan, smiling confidently, walking toward the car.

Bao Yifan walked up and tapped on the window.

An Di glanced at Fan Shengmei, sighed, and rolled down the window, staring coolly at Bao Yifan.

Bao Yifan, thinking himself charming, handed her another card: “My other card.”

An Di took it, said nothing.

Seeing this, Bao Yifan bent down, leveling his eyes with hers: “Want to grab coffee? It’s still early to go home.”

“Sorry. I have a boyfriend.” An Di rolled up the window, started the car, and sped off.

Watching the car disappear, Bao Yifan muttered: “Interesting…”

Inside the car, An Di and Fan Shengmei discussed Bao Yifan. Fan Shengmei openly expressed her longing for men like him. An Di listened quietly, focused on driving.

But soon, An Di noticed a car following them—she assumed it was the man Fan Shengmei had been flirting with.

Fan Shengmei also thought it was Qu Lianjie, thrilled by her own allure, smiling faintly without speaking. She turned back—and her joy vanished. It was that diamond-studded old man.

Knowing it was Bao Yifan, An Di grew annoyed. She pulled over.

She got out, walked up to Bao Yifan—who had just stepped out of his car—and said: “I told you—I have a boyfriend. Don’t bother me again. If you want to collaborate, contact my secretary. Goodbye.”

Without waiting for Bao Yifan to speak, she turned, got back in the car, and drove off.

Bao Yifan’s smile remained on his face as he murmured softly: “I like her even more…”

He’d wanted to partner with Sheng Xuan long before. He knew everything about An Di—except for Tang Guoqiang and He Yunli’s affairs, everything was crystal clear. When he first saw her profile, he’d studied her. This encounter only made him more interested. After all, what’s unattainable is always better than the easy, disposable women who came and went at his command.

Running a group worth tens of billions didn’t just bring him money—it gave him the power to control the fates of tens of thousands of ordinary people, and the boundless confidence that came with social influence. To him, almost no woman was beyond his reach. So what if she had a boyfriend? He’d been taught since childhood not to make enemies—but only worthy people counted as enemies. Who was this Wang? Ran some pathetic internet startup, owned a few properties—a broke nobody who couldn’t even clean his shoes? Did he even qualify?

Back on the road, Fan Shengmei, perceptive as ever, comforted An Di.

In her heart, she thought the diamond-studded old man was far better than Wang Yan—but she never said it aloud. Still, she subtly defended him. After all, such a powerful man—An Di was just an employee. If they clashed, it might not be good.

An Di half-listened, half-chatted with Fan Shengmei, and returned to Happy Valley.

In the elevator, she warned Fan Shengmei not to tell Wang Yan, then composed herself, smiling as she walked into the apartment.

Wang Yan noticed nothing. The plot had already spiraled so far out of his control. He knew An Di had met Bao Yifan at a gala—but there were so many galas, and the drama never specified which one. How could he know which one?

Since An Di didn’t mention it, he let it go.

………

The next evening.

In the underground parking lot, after parking, Wang Yan, An Di, Guan Juer, and Zhao Qiping laughed as they unloaded items from the trunk.

Yesterday, An Di and Guan Juer had said they’d get together sometime. Today, both were free, so they did. Since they were all heading home the same way, An Di picked up Guan Juer, and Wang Yan didn’t let Zhao Qiping drive—he just picked him up along the way. They stopped at a bar for a few bottles of wine, then headed to the market, buying ingredients according to their tastes.

As they were carrying their bags, a yellow Polo pulled into the adjacent parking spot. Qu Xiaoxiao’s short legs stepped out in ten-centimeter heels, clicking “tap-tap.”

Seeing the group, she sized them up. As she passed Zhao Qiping, her eyes visibly brightened: “Oh? An Di, having a dinner party?”

An Di nodded politely: “Yes.” She didn’t invite her—she assumed Qu Xiaoxiao had enough sense.

“Then who’s this handsome guy? I’ve never seen him before?” She gestured toward Zhao Qiping, standing beside Guan Juer.

Zhao Qiping realized she was familiar. Without waiting for an introduction, noticing her gaze, he said: “Hello, I’m Zhao Qiping. Guan Juer’s boyfriend.”

Guan Juer wrapped her arm possessively around Zhao Qiping and looked up at Qu Xiaoxiao.

“Oh, Guan Juer’s boyfriend? I’m Qu Xiaoxiao—her neighbor.” Qu Xiaoxiao ignored Guan Juer’s gesture, studied Zhao Qiping carefully, and smiled: “Hmm, handsome and talented—perfect match. Oh, elevator’s here. Let’s go up.”

As they entered the elevator, Qu Xiaoxiao asked: “Mr. Zhao, you look so distinguished—what do you do?”

Zhao Qiping finally got it—this woman wasn’t welcome. He replied coolly: “Doctor.”

“Really? I love doctors! White angels who save lives—such a noble job.” Qu Xiaoxiao ignored Guan Juer’s hostility and An Di’s warning. She was confident she could handle Guan Juer; she’d spent a few days with An Di and knew how to placate her. “So, Dr. Zhao, Mr. Zhao—where do you work? Since we’re practically acquaintances now, I might need to ask you for advice.”

“If there’s an issue, any hospital will do—they’re all professional doctors. Miss Qu, the elevator’s here.”

“Alright then, here’s my business card.” With a regretful glance at the elevator, Qu Xiaoxiao pulled out her card: “I’ll treat you and Xiao Guan to dinner sometime. Bye.”

Watching the elevator doors close, Zhao Qiping frowned: “What just happened?”

Guan Juer looked at An Di, who looked at Wang Yan. Wang Yan, who had been silent until now, shrugged: “Nothing. Just a rich second-generation—kinda… self-absorbed? She’s probably into you, Doctor Zhao. You’re pretty charming.” As he finished speaking, the elevator doors opened again, and Wang Yan stepped out with his bags.

Zhao Qiping held the elevator button, keeping the doors open, and looked at Guan Juer: “Don’t joke like that. I’m completely devoted to Xiao Guan—mutual affection, perfect harmony, loyal and unwavering.”

Guan Juer’s slight unease eased: “Oh come on, you’re being so sappy.”

Laughing and teasing their way inside, they put down their things. Zhao Qiping marveled at the abundance of books in the apartment—its own little world—then accompanied Guan Juer downstairs to see her living space. Guan Juer didn’t have Fan Shengmei’s annoying habits—what you saw was what you got—and Zhao Qiping wasn’t the type to judge superficially. He’d seen it; that was enough.

He came from an intellectual family, well-educated, with no lack of means. His income was solid, and he owned property in Shanghai—he didn’t live with his parents.

He’d previously mentioned to Guan Juer the idea of moving in together, but she’d refused. One reason: it was a bit far from her workplace. Another: she liked all their friends and didn’t want to drift apart. Most importantly, even though things were going well, she felt things were moving too fast—and she was a little embarrassed by it.

After putting things away, the two returned upstairs and joined An Di in preparing ingredients. Wang Yan, the master chef, wielded his wok with flair—the atmosphere was warm and natural.

Zhao Qiping winning over Guan Juer wasn’t surprising to Wang Yan. The quieter the girl, the bolder she tends to be once she’s set her mind on someone. Besides, Zhao Qiping had his own charm—he knew how to talk, how to please, and it all unfolded naturally. These days are different: if you date someone for half a year and still can’t even hold hands, they’ll just say: “Fuck that.” What’s the point of being a doormat? After all, those who grovel endlessly and get one happy night in return are rare.

Wang Yan moved fast—frying, stir-frying, boiling, steaming—his wok spinning like a whirlwind. In no time, he’d prepared a full table of dishes: large plates, modest portions, but many varieties.

They were all so familiar with each other; the meal was filled with joy and ease.

…………

After seeing off the tipsy Zhao Qiping, Wang Yan, An Di, and Guan Juer walked back together.

Guan Juer grumbled: “An Di, Wang Brother—what was Qu Xiaoxiao thinking?”

“It’s fine, Xiao Guan,” Wang Yan said, hands behind his back. “Do you doubt yourself? Or do you doubt Doctor Zhao?”

“Neither. But Qu Xiaoxiao has a history. I’m worried her antics might mess things up for us.”

An Di thought for a moment: “Xiao Guan, don’t worry. I’ll go talk to Qu Xiaoxiao later, find out what she really means.”

Wang Yan said nothing more. He listened as An Di comforted the insecure Guan Juer, while his mind returned to dinner—when An Di had received two calls, glanced at them, and hung up immediately.

These damn things all pile up at once—these two bastards are being clueless.

Qu Xiaoxiao’s been too bored lately. She’s playing games with An Di because she brought this on herself—she started some stupid company and now has no time for her. Fine, I let it slide. But now she’s gotten so swollen with arrogance? She’s got the nerve to study Zhao Qiping right in front of me? Don’t even mention Bao Yifan—he’s asking for trouble.

Wang Yan returned home and began plotting how to deal with those two.

An Di didn’t go upstairs. After seeing the slightly drunk Guan Juer to her room, she greeted Fan Shengmei—who had just returned from a date—and then knocked on the door of 2203.

Qu Xiaoxiao opened the door, her face covered in a face mask. Seeing An Di, she sighed: “Come in.” She knew why—other than Doctor Zhao, who else could it be?

An Di sat down somewhere and frowned: “Xiao Qu, what’s your game?”

“What game? An Di, I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t play dumb. You’ve got a track record. I don’t trust you much.”

“Oh come on, alright. Doctor Zhao’s so handsome—you know I can’t resist good looks. I did have a little thought.” Noticing An Di’s frown deepen, Qu Xiaoxiao hurried to add: “But he’s Xiao Guan’s boyfriend, and we live on the same floor—I couldn’t possibly act on it.”

An Di stared into Qu Xiaoxiao’s eyes without speaking. Qu Xiaoxiao met her gaze, unshaken.

“Fine. I’ll believe you for now. Rest up. I’m leaving.”

She offered a token protest, then saw An Di off, humming triumphantly as she went to wash up…

Back upstairs, An Di found Wang Yan reading. She sat beside him: “I just spoke to Xiao Qu. She admitted she had thoughts—but couldn’t bring herself to act. What do you think?”

“If nothing changes, tomorrow she’ll have all the details on Doctor Zhao. Doctors’ info is mostly public—she can find it online easily. She’s got connections too—she probably already knows his workplace. The day after, she’ll show up at the hospital, find an excuse to ask him out.”

“Xiao Qu wouldn’t really…” An Di was starting to doubt herself.

“Just wait and see,” Wang Yan said calmly. “Oh, by the way—I might be away for a few days. Something needs handling. About a week.”

An Di nodded, saying nothing. She was a wise woman—if Wang Yan said “something needs handling,” then it was something that needed handling.

“A week without you—I’ll make up for the next few days today.” Saying this, Wang Yan swept An Di into his arms and headed for the bathroom…