Meanwhile, on the other side of the city.
At the top floor of YanHeng Pharmaceuticals headquarters, clouds churned outside the floor-to-ceiling windows. Yan Zhiheng sat behind his desk, having just concluded a two-hour-long video conference.
He removed his headset and rubbed his brow, preparing to get up for a cup of coffee, when his assistant knocked and entered.
"President Yan," she said, placing a file in front of him. She hesitated for a moment before continuing, "There's... been a matchmaking arrangement from your family."
His movements paused, his gaze calm yet tinged with a subtle chill.
"Cancel it."
The assistant had expected this response. But this time, she didn't retreat immediately—instead, she braced herself and added:
"But... this time, the woman's surname is Wen. Wen Zhi."
The tapping of fingers on the desk abruptly stopped.
In a heartbeat, Yan Zhiheng looked up.
His eyes were usually calm and composed, but in that moment, something within them was unmistakably stirred.
"Who did you say?"
The assistant's heart skipped a beat, but she repeated carefully, "Wen Zhi. The only daughter of the Wen family, heir to one of Jiangnan's oldest traditional Chinese medicine families. Their Linchuan TCM Clinic is a well-known, long-established brand in Jiangcheng. Modest in valuation, but highly reputable. Influential in the industry. Her parents stated that only after she marries will she inherit the shares."
Yan Zhiheng said nothing, but the steadiness in his eyes was already unraveling.
"We've just concluded a new partnership with the Wen family on a Miao herbal medicine project. The board believes that if a marriage alliance can secure this channel, it would be a win-win."
Yan Zhiheng frowned slightly, his gaze fixed on the document on the desk. He didn't move, as though weighing something deeply.
After a long pause, his voice came low and quiet: "Does she know I'm the match?"
The assistant shook her head. "Not yet. She had only one request—she doesn't care about love, only mutual respect."
That made his fingers twitch.
After a beat of silence, Yan Zhiheng let out a quiet laugh, his voice low and almost imperceptible—like a shaft of light breaking through the chill of his usual restraint.
"...She really hasn't changed one bit."
He leaned back in his chair, as if recalling something, or perhaps reevaluating. A moment later, his tone snapped back into its usual precision:
"Send me her profile, her phone number, and the address for the meeting."
The assistant blinked, stunned.
"Yes, right away."
She turned to leave but was halted again by his voice.
"Wait."
He looked up, and with an expression she had never seen before, asked:
"...What kind of things do girls like?"
She froze. For a man known for his logic, aloofness, and immunity to emotional distraction, this question was a thunderclap.
Staring at him, she looked like she was meeting him for the first time. It took her a full three seconds to recover. The corners of her mouth twitched.
"President Yan... So you are human after all."
As she exited, she mumbled under her breath, "Starting to pursue her now? And beginning with gift-giving… bit late for that, don't you think?"
Yan Zhiheng said nothing. His long fingers tapped lightly on the desk, calm gaze now laced with a sharp glint no one had ever seen before.