Even her tone carried a hint of deliberate distance.
Ethan Yu gave a subtle nod, his expression unreadable. He didn't press further.
Beside him, Ji Chuan placed a neatly arranged lunch tray in front of Ethan. "President Yu, your lunch."
Hailey glanced at the contents on Ethan's tray and raised an eyebrow. He was eating in the staff cafeteria?
Was the sky falling?
She could count on one hand how many times Ethan had eaten anything not prepared by a private chef. This man was as fastidious as he was powerful. Even during company events, he rarely mingled with the common crowd, let alone sit down in the cafeteria like… an ordinary employee.
Yet there he was, picking up his chopsticks as if this were the most natural thing in the world.
Across the cafeteria, the collective shock was palpable. You could practically hear jaws dropping.
The president is eating… with us?
And everyone knew exactly why.
It was because of her.
It had to be.
Hailey nearly rolled her eyes. Of course he had to make a scene.
But no matter how annoyed she felt, she couldn't just stand up and leave. Not when the entire company was watching. Not when their divorce was still just a pending agreement and not a finalized fact. Ethan Yu was still her husband—at least on paper—and she wasn't stupid enough to damage his reputation in public.
So she did the only thing she could: she lowered her head and started eating. Fast.
Eat, finish, escape.
She was halfway through her meal when she accidentally swallowed a mouthful of rice too quickly. Her throat seized.
"Cough, cough!"
Hailey choked, grabbing her throat in alarm.
Ethan immediately slid his own water glass across the table to her. "Drink."
She hesitated—just for a second—then snatched the glass and gulped down a large mouthful. Only after the water cooled her burning throat did she breathe again.
"Don't eat so fast next time," Ethan said quietly, his tone unusually gentle. "You'll hurt yourself."
Hailey put the glass down and forced a smile. "Thank you, President Yu. But I really need to get back to work. Still have things left unfinished."
Without waiting for a response, she stood and practically fled the cafeteria.
The room was stunned into silence.
The president's wife… is that hardworking?
If she's racing back to the office like that, shouldn't we… also step up our game?
Ethan's eyes dropped to her tray—barely half-touched. His brow furrowed.
Without another word, he stood as well and walked out, leaving his own lunch untouched.
Within minutes, the once-bustling cafeteria was emptying rapidly. That day went down in company history as the fastest lunch break ever.
—
Hailey was the first one back in the design department.
But her grand return lasted less than five minutes.
She stared at the documents on her desk—page after page of dry, technical drawings and engineering specs. Her eyelids grew heavy.
A moment later, she was asleep. Forehead pressed against the desk, arms folded like a pillow. Completely passed out.
Ten minutes later, Zhou Hua and Jin Peng returned, expecting to impress her with their diligence.
What they found instead… was their boss's wife, drooling in her sleep.
Both men froze at the door, stunned.
An invisible flock of crows seemed to flap across their minds.
No one dared say a word.
Hailey Tang might technically be just another "employee" now, but in their hearts, she was still Mrs. Yu. Untouchable. Unquestionable. You didn't wake up the sleeping queen. You just worked quietly and pretended you saw nothing.
Even Lin Xin'er, who had plenty of reasons to dislike Hailey, said nothing. Whether it was because she was afraid, or simply didn't care to interfere, no one could tell.
Hailey, for her part, was completely oblivious. She'd been running on adrenaline all morning and now, the crash hit her like a freight train.
By the time she finally stirred awake, it was nearly the end of the workday.
She blinked, groggy and disoriented, then sat up in a rush—only to feel something wet beneath her hand.
Her eyes widened in horror.
The documents.
The engineering drafts.
They were soaked through.
She'd drooled all over them.
Hailey Tang, you absolute disaster!
Panicking, she glanced around. Thankfully, her teammates were focused on their own tasks, pretending not to notice. Whether they were really unaware or just being polite, she couldn't tell.
Either way, she wasn't going to give them a reason to tease her.
She quickly grabbed a tissue and dabbed at the damp pages, trying to dry them out as best she could. The papers were wrinkled and warped, but at least not illegible.
If anyone asked, she'd just say she spilled her water.
Yes. That sounded reasonable.
After tidying up, she composed herself and reopened the files. She even tried to look like she was focused, flipping through the pages with furrowed brows and deliberate nods.
But truthfully, her brain wasn't retaining a single word. Her mind felt like cotton. Every diagram looked like an abstract painting. One glance and her eyelids drooped again.
"Hailey Tang."
Lin Xin'er's voice sliced through the haze like a whip.
Hailey snapped upright, jolted out of her sleepy stupor.
"W-What?"
"Just reminding you," Lin Xin'er said smoothly. "Work hours are over."
"Oh," Hailey exhaled in relief. "Right. Got it."
But Lin Xin'er didn't move.
Instead, she tilted her head and asked, "Did you manage to finish reviewing today's documents?"
Hailey blinked once. Then, without a pause, she answered with practiced calm, "Almost. Just about done."
It was a lie so smooth it might as well have been truth.
Lin Xin'er raised an eyebrow but didn't press.
"Good," she said simply, then turned to leave.
As soon as she was gone, Hailey slumped back in her chair.
This job was going to kill her.
Or bore her to death, whichever came first.
Still, she reminded herself why she was here—to learn, to grow, and most importantly, to earn her freedom.
She'd told herself she wanted to fly.
But the truth was, learning to fly meant falling first.
And right now, she was falling hard.
But somewhere deep down… maybe a small part of her hoped someone would catch her before she hit the ground.
Maybe that someone had just handed her a glass of water, when she was choking.
And maybe, just maybe, that meant something.