Xingchen aced her assessment. The reinstatement letter landed in her hands before she even left the building.
"Miss Xia, we look forward to your contributions." The Head of Personnel shook her hand with a deference that bordered on reverence. Yu Zenan, Xingchen thought, her gratitude mingled with burning curiosity. Just how powerful is he?
Weiyang was waiting outside the Personnel office, vibrating with excitement. Xingchen waved the letter triumphantly. Weiyang squealed, enveloping her friend in a crushing hug. "Celebration! Massive! Your treat!"
"Deal," Xingchen grinned.
"After," Weiyang hissed, eyes gleaming with the secret Xingchen had accidentally spilled hours before. She scanned the crowded hallway. "Talk. Now."
They ducked into a secluded rooftop garden. The autumn breeze carried a crisp chill.
Xingchen spoke in hushed tones, laying out the impossible truth: Dabai's father, the hidden identity, the bizarre living arrangement. Weiyang listened, her mouth gradually falling open.
"Pinch me," Weiyang breathed when Xingchen finished. "Hard. This has to be a dream."
Xingchen obliged, giving her friend's arm a sharp tweak.
"Ow! Okay, not a dream!" Weiyang jumped, a disbelieving laugh bubbling out. "My godson… the President's son?! Xingchen! I'm friends with the First Lady!"
"Stop!" Xingchen grabbed her arm, pulling her down onto a bench. "First Lady? Don't be absurd. It's nothing like that."
"Nothing? You have a child together! Is he just abandoning responsibility?"
Xingchen gazed out over the city skyline, her expression turning thoughtful. "I don't need him to 'be responsible'. Duty-bound love? A marriage of obligation?" She shook her head firmly. "I wouldn't want that. Besides…" Her voice dropped. "He already has his future mapped out."
"Who?"
"Vice President Song. You know him?"
"Of course."
"His daughter, Miss Song Weiyi. They inhabit the same world."
Weiyang studied Xingchen's profile, the initial excitement fading into quiet concern. The President was a distant star, brilliant but untouchable. Reaching for it invited only hardship.
"Xingchen," Weiyang said softly, squeezing her hand. "Guard your heart. Please. Don't fall for him. It'll only hurt."
A flicker of something passed over Xingchen's face before she summoned a reassuring smile. "Don't worry. I know exactly where the lines are."
"Good." Weiyang patted her hand, the unspoken worry lingering in her eyes.
...
Evening - Presidential Office
Dr. Fu YiChen reapplied the dressing to Bai Yeqing's torso with efficient hands. "Remarkable recovery rate. Seems Miss Xia truly is your magic remedy."
Bai Yeqing shot him a cool glance. "What's she got to do with it?"
The mere mention of her conjured the phantom image of her meeting that Yu Zenan. His jaw tightened.
"Oh, everything," Dr. Fu countered smoothly, packing his medical kit. "Your pain relief method was… uniquely effective. Innovative, even."
Leng Fei, standing nearby, looked intrigued. "A method unknown to Dr. Fu? This, I must hear."
"The kissing remedy," Dr. Fu stated, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Ever seen it administered?"
"Enough!" Bai Yeqing's voice cracked like ice. "Out. Both of you."
Dr. Fu chuckled, wisely backing down. "Wound's secure. My work here is done."
Leng Fei stepped forward. "Will you be staying at the office tonight, sir?"
Bai Yeqing considered for a moment. "…No. Home."
"Understood." Leng Fei nodded, a subtle observation forming. He's changed. The workaholic President who once slept at his desk for weeks was now returning to the Residence with increasing frequency. Was it Dabai? Or… the other occupant?
...
Xingchen gathered her laundry, heading towards the sanitizing room. She knew the staff would gladly handle it, but she insisted on managing her own things. This borrowed luxury wasn't permanent. She wouldn't let herself become dependent.
As she stepped into the corridor, the sudden flurry of activity downstairs signaled his imminent return. She hesitated only a second before continuing towards the sanitizing room.
"Mr. President!" The staff greeted him with hushed reverence as his tall frame filled the entrance hall. Someone swiftly took the suit jacket he shrugged off.
"Have you dined, sir?" the steward inquired.
"Not yet."
"The kitchen has prepared selections. Please wait in the dining room."
A list of elaborate dishes was recited. Bai Yeqing's brow creased faintly. Rich fare held no appeal tonight.
"Xia Xingchen!"
His voice, casually authoritative, stopped her just as she reached the hallway leading away.
She paused, looking down from the balcony.
He tilted his head back, meeting her gaze directly. "I'm hungry. Want dumplings."
Dumplings?
Xingchen blinked, momentarily stunned. Was this a royal decree for her to cook?
"Dumplings for the President, immediately!" the steward began instructing a nearby maid.
Bai Yeqing raised a hand, halting the order. His eyes remained locked on Xingchen. "Downstairs. Now."
...
Xingchen felt bewitched. She could refuse. His hunger wasn't her problem. She'd sworn to keep her distance.
Yet, the refusal died on her lips. His simple statement, "I'm hungry," echoed in her mind, conjuring an absurd image of him – powerful, aloof, yet somehow… neglected. Like a child who hadn't been fed.
Fine. He was probably drowning in state affairs again – the recent unrest required constant attention. He had handled it brilliantly…
With a resigned sigh, she handed her laundry bundle to a waiting maid and descended the stairs.
She walked straight to the kitchen. He moved past her towards the stairs, presumably to shower. He didn't spare her a glance, maintaining the cool indifference that had marked their interactions since the "blind date" debacle. She was used to it.
Pulling frozen dumplings from the industrial fridge, Xingchen set a pot of water to boil. A maid hovered. "Need help, Miss?"
"No, thanks."
"Funny," the maid murmured, genuinely puzzled. "Never knew the President fancied frozen dumplings. He was always particular… wouldn't touch processed food."
"Must be a whim," Xingchen suggested, dropping the dumplings into the bubbling water.
The maid nodded, pulling out a discreet notebook. Dumplings: Add to regular inventory.
By the time the dumplings were perfectly cooked and plated, Bai Yeqing had returned, freshly showered and dressed in casual trousers and a dark sweater. He was already seated at the polished dining table, head bent over documents filled with complex Arabic script.
Xingchen set the steaming plate before him without a word. The aroma of simple food filled the quiet room. He didn't look up immediately, the only sound the faint rustle of paper as his long fingers turned a page.