Chapter 32: I Ask for an Apology from You on Behalf of My Wife

The designer noticed the change in his expression and, though unaware of what had transpired, wisely chose to lead everyone out of the room. Only seconds after the office door closed, the documents on the desk, along with his phone, were swept to the floor.

In the vast office, his fingers braced against the desk, eyes narrowed—dark and sharp—while his thin lips pressed tightly together. With lowered gaze, he concealed the icy glint beneath his lashes.

In the break room, Li Yueting overheard the employees discussing the boss’s foul mood. She lifted the coffee cup slowly, taking a gentle sip.

“Secretary Li, do you know why Mr. Gu is upset?” someone asked.

Li Yueting stirred her coffee, her tone ambiguous. “Perhaps… someone has displeased him.”

And that someone was the only one he held dear, whom nobody else was allowed to touch.

“Who? Secretary Li, do you know the inside story?” Everyone harbored a taste for gossip.

Li Yueting smiled. “I’m only guessing. Just speaking at random.”

Lanhu County.

Wen Zhixia nestled into the soft sofa, the home theater’s immersive screen providing a lifelike visual experience. She watched quietly, unsure how long she’d lain there. Her eyes grew tired, and drowsiness crept in.

In her sleep, a heavy pressure swept over her, as if someone pressed relentlessly on her chest, stealing her breath. Even in dreams, her brows remained tightly furrowed.

The film’s gentle soundtrack played on—a classic old movie, the actors exchanging tender words in pure, lilting accents, perfect for lulling one to sleep.

Yet she slept fitfully. The moment the suffocating sensation overwhelmed her, she jolted awake.

The empty room before her was devoid of any lively atmosphere. Wen Zhixia had always considered herself someone who loved tranquility, but these past two years of being home after resigning, she found she liked this solitary life less and less.

Spending most of her days alone, time became harder to endure.

The screen shifted to a scene of children giggling, their laughter somehow warming her heart.

Wen Zhixia pushed open the window. Night air swept in, silent and still—even the cicadas seemed to be resting.

She held her phone, opening and closing the screen again and again, watching its light fade, then tapping it on once more, over and over.

Buzz—

Her phone vibrated briefly. She looked down, hope dimming when she saw it wasn’t the person she expected.

“Sister Wen, don’t forget you’re coming to my house tomorrow for my father’s birthday!”

The little girl from the Hua family, raised with endless affection, always carried an air of unfinished innocence. Even just reading her message, one could imagine her playful, sing-song tone.

Wen Zhixia replied: “Alright.”

Hua Qianjiao: “Is Sister Wen’s husband coming too?”

Of course, this wasn’t Hua Qianjiao’s own question. She usually only cared if Wen Zhixia would come. Gu Pingsheng was never her concern.

But when her father asked whom she’d invited, he reminded her to ask about Gu Pingsheng as well.

Without thinking much of it, Hua Qianjiao agreed.

Wen Zhixia paused: “He… is quite busy with work.”

Only then did Hua Qianjiao realize, belatedly: “Did you and your husband have a fight, Sister Wen?”

A fight?

Wen Zhixia thought, perhaps so. Wasn’t it just that he hadn’t even bothered to say goodbye before disappearing?

The next morning.

Hua Qianjiao, her cheek still pressed to her phone, was awakened by a servant. The night before, she’d fallen asleep mid-conversation with Wen Zhixia.

“Miss, time to get up. The stylist Chairman Hua arranged for you is already waiting downstairs.”

Annoyed by the noise, Hua Qianjiao pulled the quilt over her head. “Give me another half hour.”

The servant straightened, coughing lightly. “Chairman Hua said if you stay in bed, he’ll send Little Treasure to Big Bear’s kennel.”

Little Treasure was Hua Qianjiao’s Scottish Fold cat—tiny, adorable, always curling up into a ball. She thought he looked like a nugget of gold, hence the name.

Big Bear, on the other hand, was the fierce watchdog at the villa’s back door, always baring its teeth and drooling. Once, while carrying Little Treasure past him, Hua Qianjiao had been so startled by his bark that her beloved pet fell ill for a week, breaking her heart.

Hearing her father threaten her cat, Hua Qianjiao threw off the covers and sat up at once. “No way!”

The servant stifled a laugh, keeping a straight face. “Then, Miss, you’d better get ready. Chairman Hua said you must look absolutely stunning today.”

Downstairs, Hua Qianjiao resigned herself to the stylist’s ministrations, all the while texting Wen Zhixia to complain about her father’s tyranny.

Watching the exchange between father and daughter, Wen Zhixia’s gaze grew dim; she had never known such warmth between family.

Before leaving, she still sent a message to Gu Pingsheng, telling him where she was going.

She waited two minutes for a reply. When none came, she put the phone in her bag.

The Hua family’s residence, rich in history, was not a modern villa but an old building with quaint charm. Rumor had it the place was built by Germans over a century ago—no longer something money alone could buy.

There had been traffic on the way, so Wen Zhixia set out early, but even so, she arrived almost exactly on time.

By the time she arrived, many luxury cars were already parked outside.

“Sister Wen, you’re here!” Dressed in a high-fashion runway piece, Hua Qianjiao waved her over. The off-shoulder gown accentuated her best features—her skin seemed washed daily with pure water, fair and tender, her figure softly rounded. Her brows and eyes radiated the elegant indifference of someone untouched by life’s troubles.

“You look especially beautiful today,” Wen Zhixia said, handing over her gift with a smile.

Hua Qianjiao pouted. “It took hours to get ready. I still haven’t slept enough.”

Wen Zhixia chuckled softly, reaching out to tidy her hair. “Chairman Hua dotes on his daughter—of course, he wants his precious girl to appear perfect before everyone.”

That accident all those years ago had made Hua Qianjiao the subject of unkind gossip. How could her father remain unmoved when people spoke of his beloved girl that way?

Hua Qianjiao lowered her head, voice small. “I know… I just don’t want to be here.”

Even a child just learning to speak could sense the malice of the outside world. Her mind had regressed, but she wasn’t truly foolish.

“Qianjiao, no matter what happens, you’ll always be the Hua family’s little princess. That will never change. After all… they only dare to gossip behind your back. No one would really cross you.”

Such was the privilege of her status; even if she was different, she could still live in peace.

“Well, well, isn’t this someone familiar? So it’s our little President Wen. It’s been so long, and you seem a shadow of your former self.” With a mocking smile, Wang Haiqiong approached, wine glass in hand, her words laced with innuendo.

The social circle was small—everyone ran into each other sooner or later. Otherwise, how could there be such a saying as “enemies always cross paths”?

Wang Haiqiong, a formidable woman in the industry, had never gotten along with Wen Zhixia.

Opposites attract, but among women, rivalry often arose—especially when some delighted in competing with their own sex. If they came out on top, all was well; if not, they’d never forget it, always ready to defeat you, by any means necessary.

“Is that so? President Wang, you remain as dazzling as ever.” There was no need for verbal sparring. It only embarrassed both parties in front of others—a spectacle Wen Zhixia had never wished to provide.

Wang Haiqiong raised her glass meaningfully. “Back in the day, President Gu and little President Wen were inseparable, like one person. And now? He’s nowhere in sight.”

Wen Zhixia bowed her head with a gentle laugh. “He’s busy.”

Wang Haiqiong smiled in return, her crimson nails swirling the wine as she took a sip. “President Gu is indeed busy. I’m not as fortunate as you, spending my days at home in comfort while still trying to compete with men in business. Women like us, always so stubborn, think it’s better to live by our own efforts than to accept charity.”

Once, Wang Haiqiong had always lagged behind Wen Zhixia. Now, Wen Zhixia was a housewife, while she remained a career woman. Given the chance, of course she would make a few pointed remarks.

The cold ridicule in her words was obvious, and even Hua Qianjiao could hear it, puffing her cheeks in annoyance, wanting to drive her away.

Wen Zhixia caught her arm, her smile serene. “I remember that President Wang always handled things personally, even if…” She paused, lips bright and clear. “Even if the man was already married, even if he was old enough to be your father, you’d meet him late at night in his car outside his home just to close a deal—only to be dragged out by his wife, hair and clothes in disarray.”

“The next day, the whole city was talking, and someone poured dog’s blood at your company’s doorstep. Yet you carried on as if nothing had happened. I heard, too, that you spent a week at a certain board member’s house, and he protected your position?”

The business world was small, and when something caused such a stir, even Wen Zhixia, who shunned gossip, couldn’t help but know all the details.

So, a woman who claimed not to live on charity?

If you’re going to build an image, you should at least make sure it stands up, shouldn’t you?

Wang Haiqiong gripped her glass tightly. Clearly, Wen Zhixia’s cool words had struck a nerve she’d rather leave buried.

“Two years on, and little President Wen is still so sharp-tongued.”

Wen Zhixia’s lips curled. “Thank you for the compliment.”

Rarely did she attack so aggressively or air people’s dirty laundry. But it all depended on the other person’s character.

To restore her own peace, she didn’t mind helping someone recall their past.

In truth, anyone’s climb to the top was tinged with shades of gray. Some maintained their limits; others sacrificed them for greater gain. It was a matter of personal choice.

But if you understood people, you’d know that being kind to others was also being kind to yourself. Keeping up appearances often meant saving yourself from shame.

After all, the human heart was like a rotten apple: some spots moldy, some half-decayed, and some black to the core. Peel it open, and most of it was unfit to see.

If you tried to trample others to prove your own worth, how could you know which step would make you stumble?

Wang Haiqiong sneered, glass in hand, and left. But before she went, she said, “No wonder President Gu can’t handle you, little President Wen. Men prefer women they can control.”

Wen Zhixia raised her glass, sipping lightly. “Our marriage is none of your concern.”

Wang Haiqiong’s lips curled in derision—as if to say, Let’s see how long your luck lasts.

“Sister Wen, that woman is so annoying,” Hua Qianjiao muttered.

“Pay her no mind. Where there are many people, there’s always gossip.”

Hua Qianjiao nodded. “You’re right… Oh? Qingqi is here.”

She caught sight of Qingqi entering and her eyes lit up. She quickly turned to Wen Zhixia. “Do I look good now?”

Wen Zhixia nodded. “Very beautiful.”

With that reassurance, Hua Qianjiao smiled, her eyes crescent-shaped, preparing to walk toward Qingqi.

But before she could, another woman—Lin Huixian—appeared at Qingqi’s side.

The two entered arm in arm, drawing many eyes. After all, the betrothal between the Hua and Qing families had been no secret for two years.

Now, for Qingqi to openly bring another woman to Chairman Hua’s birthday banquet was as good as slapping the Hua family in the face.

Lin Huixian nestled against Qingqi, shy and demure. “Qingqi, won’t bringing me here anger your father?”

Qingqi patted her hand reassuringly. “I’m here.”

When someone asked about their relationship, Qingqi glanced at the tearful Hua Qianjiao and hesitated.

“What’s wrong, Qingqi?” Lin Huixian asked, feigning ignorance.

Hua Qianjiao turned and hurried upstairs. Wen Zhixia moved to follow her.

But—

“Oh dear, in such a rush?—Oh, it’s little President Wen. Look at this, your clothes are all stained. How embarrassing. Did you bring a change of clothes? I have some in my car trunk. If you need, I’ll have them brought over?” Wang Haiqiong apologized, but her expression and tone betrayed not a hint of guilt.

She made no effort to hide her malice.

Wen Zhixia frowned, glancing down at her wine-stained dress. Without hesitation, she grabbed a passing servant’s wine glass, flicked the rim with her finger, and in the next instant, splashed its contents over Wang Haiqiong’s face.

She was calm, not temperless.

“Ah! Wen Zhixia, how dare you!” Her carefully drawn makeup was ruined; red wine dripped from her hair and face. Wang Haiqiong screamed.

The commotion drew many looks.

Wen Zhixia set down her glass. “I already did it—so do you think I dare, or not?”

And why shouldn’t she dare?

If she still had to swallow her grievances, what had all these years of hard work and entrepreneurship been for?

“Wang Haiqiong, I don’t bother you. If you know what’s good for you, don’t come looking for trouble. This glass was my reply. As for the clothes, keep them for yourself.” She turned to leave.

Enraged, Wang Haiqiong wiped her face. As Wen Zhixia passed, she “accidentally” yanked the tablecloth. Wen Zhixia, dodging, stepped onto a plate of pastries, her heel slipping. She fell, hand catching on a shard of glass.

She hated pain, and her brows knitted instantly.

“Oh, look at me, so clumsy! Are you alright? Let me help you up.” Wang Haiqiong bent down, feigning concern.

Wen Zhixia avoided her hand.

“Little President Wen, won’t you forgive me?” Wang Haiqiong asked.

“This is Chairman Hua’s birthday. No matter what, you should give the host some respect. I’m sure President Wang wouldn’t stoop so low as to play tricks on you,” a cool voice interjected as Wang Haiqiong tried to shift the blame.

The crowd turned. There stood Gu Pingsheng, impeccably dressed, tall and elegant.

Wen Zhixia looked up, surprised—she hadn’t expected him to come.

Gu Pingsheng strode over, slowing as he neared her. He bent down, helped her up, and, seeing blood on her fingers, his eyes narrowed coldly.

He asked a servant for the first aid kit and, without hesitation, began tending Wen Zhixia’s hand in the middle of the bustling hall.

Chairman Hua arrived as the servants were cleaning up the mess.

Gu Pingsheng was wrapping Wen Zhixia’s hand, asking softly, “Does it hurt?”

Chairman Hua hesitated, unsure if he should speak, and finally told a servant, “Quick, call a doctor.”

Wen Zhixia looked up. “No need, Uncle, it’s nothing serious.”

Gu Pingsheng glanced at her, his thumb pressing gently on her palm. “Why didn’t you wait for me? Couldn’t you have come with me after I finished work?”

He offered an easy explanation for their arriving separately: Wen Zhixia, being close to Hua Qianjiao, had come early, while he’d been delayed by work.

Wen Zhixia met his gaze but said nothing.

Gu Pingsheng stood. “Sorry for the trouble, Chairman Hua. Xiaxia and Miss Hua are close, so she was eager to come and wish you a happy birthday. We didn’t expect such an incident would occur and spoil your good mood.”

Chairman Hua laughed. “Not at all, not at all—a small matter. As long as Zhixia’s hand is fine.”

Wang Haiqiong said, “President Gu really dotes on little President Wen. Even the smallest bump, and you care for her yourself. After so many years of marriage, you’re still so close—how enviable.”

“She’s the only wife I have. If I don’t care for her, who should I care for?” he replied, smiling with his lips but not his eyes.

His words left Wang Haiqiong speechless, awkwardly rooted in place.

Wang Haiqiong might provoke Wen Zhixia when she was alone, but with Gu Pingsheng by her side, rumors crumbled instantly.

Even the other well-connected guests understood: even if Gu Pingsheng kept another woman outside, his wife was Wen Zhixia, and he cared about her. No one would risk crossing her.

He didn’t pursue Wang Haiqiong’s actions further; his words alone were warning enough.

Chairman Hua glanced at Wang Haiqiong, displeased. It was his birthday, and her actions showed no regard for Wen Zhixia or his own enjoyment.

Fortunately, at that moment, Madam Hua intervened. “Today is my husband’s special day. Let’s not just stand around—carry on, everyone!”

With the hosts smoothing things over, the atmosphere soon warmed again.

Madam Hua was soon called away by a servant—Hua Qianjiao had run to her room in tears.

Wen Zhixia wanted to follow, but Madam Hua stopped her, smiling. “It’s alright, I’ll go. You and President Gu rarely come—enjoy yourselves.”

Gu Pingsheng took her arm. “If I’m not with you, you end up hurt. Better stay by my side. Since it’s been so long since we’ve seen President Wang, it’s a good chance to catch up.”

There was little history between them, but to insist on “catching up” made the words loaded with meaning.

Chairman Hua’s attention had shifted—he watched the woman at Qingqi’s side. At the banquet, Qingqi was discreet enough to introduce Lin Huixian as his cousin, but Chairman Hua knew her true identity. With his daughter’s condition still unresolved, as a father, his worries only deepened.

Gu Pingsheng picked up two wine glasses and glanced at Wen Zhixia. “Your hand’s injured; you can’t drink. This glass is for President Wang.”

Wang Haiqiong reached out, only to hear him say, “I arrived a bit late. President Wang, would you mind telling me what happened just now? Xiaxia’s skin is delicate; I wonder how long it’ll take for her palm to heal.”

It sounded like a simple request for an apology and nothing more. But Wen Zhixia knew that for Wang Haiqiong, who’d always seen her as a rival, being forced to apologize publicly by Gu Pingsheng was more humiliating than a slap.

Wen Zhixia looked at Gu Pingsheng, suspecting he’d done it on purpose.

Sensing her gaze, he turned, their eyes meeting—his were bright and unfathomable, laced with mischief.

Wen Zhixia opened her mouth but said nothing.

The atmosphere grew tense, and Wang Haiqiong’s face turned ashen.