Li Qiao smiled lightly. "I have plenty of business outfits at home. Just never had the chance to wear them."
The man's clean, cool scent lingered around her. With her fair cheeks still resting in his palm, her features looked even more delicate and refined.
Shang Yu asked calmly, "How long do you want to intern?"
Li Qiao refocused her thoughts and replied, "Three months. I need to report to the research institute in September."
He gazed at her deeply for a moment, then turned his hand slightly to pinch her cheek gently.
"Alright. As you wish."
As you wish—those four words again.
And with them, Li Qiao's heartbeat finally lost its rhythm.
When she had asked to break off the engagement, he said: As you wish.
Now she wanted to intern at Yanhuang, and he still said: As you wish.
It turned out, these subtle, hidden emotions weren't just a one-sided performance after all.
——
After that brief interlude, Shang Yu returned to his desk.
Li Qiao, wrapped in his suit jacket, curled up on the sofa, her expression composed as she quietly basked in the feeling of her heart racing.
Though they were alone together in the office, the atmosphere was thick with unspoken thoughts.
The warmth and scent of the jacket—his unique mix of crisp cologne and tobacco—wrapped around her.
She tugged the collar up, half-covering her face, leaving only her graceful, deer-like eyes visible as she secretly watched the man at work.
After a few seconds, a mischievous thought popped into her head. Playing with one of the cufflinks, she teased softly,
"Lord Yan, did your pen break?"
Her hearing was sharp, and her eyesight was just as keen.
She had definitely heard that clear snap earlier—it was the sound of a fountain pen tip breaking under pressure.
Shang Yu didn't respond. Instead, he pressed a button on the phone and issued a cold order:
"Send Zhui Feng to handle the Parma AI collaboration project. Immediately."
"Yes, Lord Yan."
The voice on the line sounded familiar—probably Liu Yun.
Upon hearing this sudden assignment, the corners of Li Qiao's mouth curled up under the jacket.
"Lord Yan, would this count as… collateral damage for Zhui Feng?"
Shang Yu calmly adjusted his sleeves, casting a sidelong glance at her—half warning, half amusement.
"If you don't want him to keep getting caught in the crossfire, stay away from him from now on."
Li Qiao hugged the jacket and took a subtle sniff, then continued probing, "What about work contact?"
This time, Shang Yu's lips curved into a sly, dangerous smile.
"You and him… will have no work contact."
——
Near noon, Liu Yun knocked and entered with two work lunches.
Inside the bright, quiet office, the man was focused at his desk while the girl lounged on the sofa, playing on her phone.
Without looking around, Liu Yun placed the food on the coffee table and turned to leave when Shang Yu's low voice stopped him:
"He's departed?"
"Yes, boss. He's already at the airport." Liu Yun nodded, silently lighting a candle for poor Zhui Feng in his heart.
Just like that, without knowing why, Zhui Feng was shipped off to Parma—for three whole months.
——
An hour later, Zhui Feng, still utterly confused, sat on Yanhuang's private jet.
No matter how he thought about it, he just couldn't figure out what the hell had happened.
The AI collaboration project? Wasn't it originally assigned to Luo Yu? Why was it suddenly dumped on him?
Neither Wang Yue nor Liu Yun gave him a straight answer. All he got was a round of scolding and a bunch of weirdly sympathetic looks.
Now on the plane, Zhui Feng rubbed his chin, pondering life's mysteries.
He suddenly remembered something Wang Yue had said:
"You tried to mess with the boss? You trying to die or what?"
Zhui Feng frowned deeply.
What the hell did I mess with?
He crossed his legs, took a long swig of beer, and just as the buzz hit—bam!—a lightbulb went off in his head.
He thought back to that moment in the elevator.
Wait a minute—when the boss said "you, go over,"
did he mean the girl… not Wang Yue and Liu Yun?
No way… that chick is the boss's woman?!
Holy crap.
He was dead meat.