Noon sunlight blazed as Qin Jia's car pulled into the courtyard. She grabbed her small suitcase and entered the eerily quiet living room—no sign of the "world war" Butler Sun had hinted at. Bodyguard Shiwu followed with a larger suitcase of formal wear, shrugging in confusion.
The aroma of food wafted from the kitchen, stirring Qin Jia's appetite. She handed her suitcase to Shiwu and hurried downstairs. Spotting Butler Sun carrying a wooden tray with a covered teacup, she asked, "What's that?"
"Rock sugar stewed pear," he whispered, glancing around. "Master's voice is hoarse—he asked me to make it secretly."
Qin Jia blinked. Hoarse from yelling? His health was truly poor. She stepped aside: "Go on, don't keep him waiting."
Butler Sun lingered, eager to share: "Miss, you won't believe what happened! Netizens made up a love story between you and Qin Mo—said you're a schemer climbing the social ladder. Master and Madam argued fiercely when he got back from the hospital; he cursed the PR team so badly they threatened to resign!"
"Why not just clarify you're siblings?" Qin Jia asked, confused.
"Butler Sun sighed: "PR suggested that, but Master's stubborn—he doesn't want you in the public eye, doesn't want others talking about the Qin family. Madam doesn't mind, but he won't listen."
Their conversation was cut short by Qin Jia's phone. Butler Sun hurried off: "I'll deliver the pear soup—Master's probably impatient."
In the kitchen, Qin Jia learned lunch was 20 minutes away. She grabbed a mango, then pulled maid Aju aside. "I need your help," she whispered, explaining her plan.
Aju hesitated: "What if Master gets mad and fires me?"
Qin Jia held up five fingers: "I'll add this to your salary. If you get fired, I'll compensate you a year's wages."
Aju's eyes lit up: "Deal!"
Upstairs Study
Qin Zongming stared at the locust tree in bloom through the window, frowning at his pollen allergy. He drew the curtains irritably, then sipped the warm rock sugar pear soup—his hoarse throat felt relieved. Picking up his phone, he scowled at the trending gossip about Qin Jia and Qin Mo. Even business partners were texting to ask if it was true.
He'd always hidden his family from the public, preferring to bring Qin Mo to events. Qin Jia's "ordinariness" felt like a failure—especially after her IQ test at four was disappointing, while Qin Mo showed prodigious talent. Now, the whole internet was laughing at him.
He called PR Minister Qi: "Remove the trending topic—money's no object."
After hanging up, a knock on the door announced lunch. "Madam's eating at the company," Butler Sun said. "Miss is back—join her for dinner?"
Qin Zongming waved him off: "I'm not hungry."
Two hours later, Qin Zongming woke up with a stiff neck and growling stomach. He stumbled downstairs to find the dining table spotless. Opening the refrigerator for cantaloupe, he heard servants whispering outside:
"Poor Miss—won first place, came home to her parents fighting.""Master's temper is terrible—she's unlucky to have him.""I heard Second Master Lu wants her as his goddaughter! Everyone likes her except him.""Is he mentally unstable? He has so much money, why not see a therapist?"
The words hit Qin Zongming like a punch. He'd never cared about servants' opinions before, but today, "unlucky," "hates his own daughter," and "psychopath" echoed in his head. He returned to his room dazedly, just as Minister Qi called.
"President Qin, we can't remove the trending topic, but we did positive PR as Madam suggested—it worked. The statement was written by Miss herself, word for word."
Qin Zongming clicked the link to Qin Jia's Weibo:
Hello everyone, I'm Qin Jia.
To clarify: I'm single. The man in the rumors is my brother Qin Mo—same parents, genetic gift.
These past two days, I've received more praise than in my entire twenties. My mother just told me "Jia" means happy, not reward (though children are a gift from heaven).
Thank you for your blessings—wish you all happiness.
Qin Zongming read it six times, his nose tingling. He remembered the day Qin Jia was born—after a month of rain, the sun shone. Shen Yushu held the baby: "Zongming, what name do you like?" He'd chosen "Jia" (commendation), but Shen Yushu smiled: "I hope she's kind, beautiful, and happy."
Tears pricked his eyes. He typed to Minister Qi: "She wrote this herself?"
Yes, sir.
Qin Zongming stared at the screen, his chest aching.
On the Road
Lu Tingzhou woke from a nap in his Rolls-Royce. "Next schedule?" he asked Secretary Lin.
"Family dinner at 6:30, negotiations at 9:00." Secretary Lin yawned, then froze as a news alert popped up. "Mr. Lu, Miss Qin's in trouble—look."
Lu Tingzhou took the tablet, his calm eyes rippling as he read the gossip. He opened Qin Jia's Weibo, then checked the comments—worried about negative feedback. Instead, the screen was flooded with love:
My darling, you're so kind! Crying at your statement!!!Watched your competition videos till midnight—my heart's racing!Wife, you write so well—meeting you is a blessing!
Secretary Lin coughed awkwardly: "Netizens are just talking nonsense—maybe don't read it?"
Lu Tingzhou handed back the tablet, opening WeChat to message Qin Jia. The word "wife" from strangers annoyed him—he hadn't even called her that yet. His fingers slipped, and two words sent: Wife...
Qin Jia replied with a question mark.
Lu Tingzhou quickly typed: Wife cake, want some? Passing a famous shop—can get you some.
Qin Jia Luna: Okay! ❤️❤️❤️
A faint smile tugged at Lu Tingzhou's lips. "Turn around," he told the driver.
Secretary Lin gaped: "Mr. Lu, we're supposed to go to the old house for dinner!"
Lu Tingzhou glanced out the window casually: "Buy the cakes first."
The car U-turned, heading toward the bakery—priority number one: bring wife cake to his "wife."