Chapter 36: A Problem with the Body

Wen Zhixia couldn’t tell if it was just her imagination, but she kept feeling that something was weighing on Gu Pingsheng’s mind today. He seemed distracted during their meal.

“Is there something going on at the company?” she asked.

Gu Pingsheng, who was serving food onto her plate, looked up. “Why do you ask?”

“You seem preoccupied,” she replied.

His lips curled in a subtle, almost imperceptible smile. “No, don’t overthink it.”

Wen Zhixia had the habit of napping after lunch, and soon after eating, she felt a wave of drowsiness. Gu Pingsheng lowered the bed from where it had been raised for the meal. “I’m heading to the office.”

She murmured an acknowledgment. “Be safe.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, watching as she closed her eyes.

Outside the hospital, seated in his Bugatti, Gu Pingsheng stared in the direction of the inpatient wing, chain-smoking two cigarettes in succession.

He hadn’t spoken a word since getting into the car. The driver opened his mouth several times but never dared to interrupt.

Gu Pingsheng rarely smoked, and almost never in the car. Wen Zhixia disliked it, said it was bad for his health, and he didn’t have any real addiction. Having been kept in check by her, he’d nearly quit altogether.

But today, he needed the taste of nicotine to steady his nerves.

“…Emotional fluctuations aren’t good for your condition. You’ve managed well these past years, but lately, even if I don’t say it, you must be aware…” The words spoken in the hospital director’s office still echoed in his ears.

He closed his eyes, and it was as if he was back in that cold, sterile room—where only a lifeless body remained, devoid of warmth, of breath.

The weight was suffocating, so oppressive it made breathing a trial.

He lifted the white sheet. His mother lay there, bloodless, unresponsive no matter how he called. There would never again be an answer from her.

Kneeling beside her body, he glared coldly at the middle-aged man who offered condolences, his fists clenched, eyes red. “Why should I grieve? Unless you die too!”

When the second cigarette burned out, Gu Pingsheng leaned back, pressing his brow heavily. “To the office.”

Halfway there, his private phone rang—Zhao Fuhe. His elegant fingers idly traced the phone’s edge before he answered, just as the ringtone was about to end.

As soon as he picked up, Zhao Fuhe’s sobs came across the line. She recounted how President Zhou had harassed her the night before, tried to take advantage of her.

“…I am, after all, your person, aren’t I?” Zhao Fuhe probed, her crying voice trembling. “Why did you do this to me, senior? Was it your intention to push me into someone else’s arms?”

She added, “If that’s so, I’d rather just leave myself.”

She was testing, trying to gauge her worth in Gu Pingsheng’s eyes.

But his silence made her anxious. “Cough, cough, cough…” She’d been forced to drink a lot the night before and stood in the wind for half an hour; her throat was raw. As she waited tensely for his response, she couldn’t suppress her cough.

“Still not feeling well?” he asked.

Those words, tinged with something like concern, rekindled hope in Zhao Fuhe’s heart. “I caught a chill last night. Senior… could you come see me today?”

When he said, “Alright,” the weight in her chest finally eased. “I’ll make something special tonight. I’ll wait for you here.”

Hospital.

After two days in bed, Wen Zhixia felt boneless and weak, and asked the nurse to help her take a walk outside.

The nurse hesitated—her wound was not fully healed.

“It’s just a stroll. It’ll be fine,” Wen Zhixia assured her.

Just then, the doctor arrived on rounds. After consulting, the nurse agreed to accompany her downstairs.

“The doctor says your wound is healing well,” Zhang Zhiyan approached, holding a bouquet of fresh flowers, and offered them to her.

Wen Zhixia smiled and nodded, but did not accept the flowers, her reason disarming any potential offense. “Thank you, Mr. Zhang, but I’m afraid I can’t hold them right now.”

Her beauty, tinged with a pale fragility, and her faint, helpless smile made it impossible to see any intention to offend.

Zhang Zhiyan paused. “It’s alright. Does your wound still hurt?”

“It’s nothing serious. Once the stitches are out in a few days, I’ll be fine.”

“It was thoughtless of me to order that spicy dish,” Zhang Zhiyan said, regretful.

Wen Zhixia shook her head. “It’s not your fault. It was my own health that failed me, I—”

Before she could finish, Zhang Zhiyan suddenly took out a handkerchief from his suit pocket and pressed it to her lips.

The sudden movement startled Wen Zhixia; the nurse belatedly realized, “Madam, you have a nosebleed.”

A nosebleed?

Wen Zhixia frowned. Another nosebleed? The unexpected incident was embarrassing. She reached out to press the handkerchief herself, but Zhang Zhiyan didn’t let go.

“Don’t tilt your head back. Lower it a bit,” he said when she looked at him.

Wen Zhixia lowered her eyes and did as told.

“Could you get her a bottle of water?” Zhang Zhiyan said to the nurse.

When the nurse left, he added, “It’s been hot lately, easy to get overheated. You’ve been running the air conditioner in the ward—remember to drink more water.”

Wen Zhixia couldn’t see him, but they were sitting so close together on the bench she felt a little uncomfortable. “Is it better now?”

Zhang Zhiyan delayed, then moved the handkerchief a little. “Wait a bit longer.”

When the nurse returned, Zhang Zhiyan finally let go and gently wiped the blood from beneath her nose.

“I can manage myself.” Wen Zhixia reached out.

He chuckled softly. “I’ll give this to you. Are you sure you can see?”

“Madam, have some water,” the nurse said, her expression a bit odd as she watched Zhang Zhiyan’s gentle manner.

Wen Zhixia took the opportunity of drinking water to put some distance between them, but Zhang Zhiyan acted as if he hadn’t noticed, carefully folding up the handkerchief.

“Give it to me, please. I’ll send you a new one,” Wen Zhixia said.

Zhang Zhiyan’s lips twitched. “Just wash it. It’s nothing.”

Despite his words, Wen Zhixia still found it strange. She wanted to say more, but Zhang Zhiyan had already put the handkerchief away.

Wen Zhixia noticed, her eyes flickering.

In a corner neither noticed, a man in a baseball cap was snapping photos with a camera. Only after they separated did he stretch his neck, stiff from holding the same position so long.

But looking at the photos he’d taken, he felt the stakeout had been worth it.

Rumors had been spreading online recently about the Zhang Group president and a popular starlet. He’d been lying in wait for days, hoping to get a scoop. When he saw Zhang Zhiyan enter a flower shop today, he’d followed without hesitation.

He hadn’t expected to catch something at all—but he had.

But the woman…

The tabloid photographer scrutinized the screen. It wasn’t the starlet he’d been after. “Damn it, all for nothing. Who is this woman?”

“She’s the wife of the president of Guxia Group. An affair between Zhang Zhiyan and a married woman, involving two of the city’s biggest companies… Do you still think it was for nothing?” said Li Yueting, stepping forward.

The photographer gaped at the woman who’d suddenly appeared. “How do you know all this? Who are you?”

“Who I am doesn’t matter. What matters is that if you run this story, it’ll attract plenty of attention. The public never tires of scandals among the elite,” Li Yueting said, handing him a wad of cash.

The photographer counted it, satisfied. “You’re sure you’re not mistaken—that woman really is the president’s wife?”

Li Yueting smiled inscrutably. “Trust me. There’s no mistake.”

Chengya Residence.

“This is pasta I learned to make specially from a chef—try it and see if it suits your taste,” Zhao Fuhe said, emerging from the kitchen in a revealing slip dress, the high slit exposing her fair thighs as she walked.

Gu Pingsheng stood and took a seat at the dining table. Zhao Fuhe set down the dish, then sat on his lap, her perfume lingering between them. She twirled the pasta, her manner recalling both the femininity and the cool poise of Wen Zhixia.

“Senior, try it,” she said, pressing the fork to his lips.

He looked at her, then opened his mouth.

“How is it?” she asked, taking a bite herself.

“Are you feeling better?” His well-defined fingers brushed her brow.

Zhao Fuhe pressed her cheek into his palm, gazing at him with infatuation. “As long as you’re by my side, I’ll always be well.”

She added, “I want to be with you forever, to never be apart.”

Gu Pingsheng’s lips held a faint, chilly smile. “Forever?”

Those words, his Xiaxia had once said too. But in the end, hadn’t she turned around and declared her love for another man?

“You don’t believe me?” Zhao Fuhe gazed at him.

Gu Pingsheng’s fingertips stroked her cheek. “The food’s getting cold. Let’s eat.”

Belief or not—it hardly mattered.

He pushed her off his lap. Zhao Fuhe couldn’t read the meaning behind his words, but persisted, “My feelings for you are real.”

A handsome, wealthy man whose mere touch sent her trembling—Zhao Fuhe had captured him and was unwilling to let go.

He leaned back in his chair. His phone vibrated; it was a news alert from Li Yueting.

The headline was glaring and harsh—“President’s Wife of Guxia Group Cheating with Zhang Group’s President.”

There was no need for embellishment. The blunt description was visually shocking, direct and forceful.

Whether it was Guxia Group or Zhang Group, even ordinary people in Sifang City who paid no attention to business news would have heard the names. And even if not, a scandal among the powerful was always sensational enough.

Attached were several photos, each eye-catching; under a telephoto lens, the intimacy was ambiguous. The angle made it unclear whether they were kissing or not, but Zhang Zhiyan’s action of wiping Wen Zhixia’s lips said enough.

Li Yueting called, seeming to weigh her words. “The story’s starting to spread. President Gu, do you want—”

“Suppress it,” Gu Pingsheng said coldly.

Li Yueting smiled to herself, but her tone was crisp and professional. “Yes, I understand.”

She’d never expected this report to cause much trouble. Gu Pingsheng would never let such news run wild, whether for his pride or for the company’s sake.

But as long as he saw it, that was enough.

The photos from the clothing store last time had sunk without a ripple, but with evidence piling up, Li Yueting didn’t believe that a man so used to controlling everything would remain unmoved.

Zhao Fuhe didn’t know what was going on, but she clearly saw Gu Pingsheng’s expression darken.

“Senior, what’s wrong?” Zhao Fuhe leaned on his shoulder, her fingers trailing along his handsome jaw, lips brushing his chin.

Gu Pingsheng sat there, cold as stone. When her hands unbuttoned his shirt and caressed his chest, he suddenly seized her arm, swept the dishes off the table, and pressed her down hard.

Zhao Fuhe gasped in shock, but loved his wildness, swept up in the dizzying passion.

Hospital.

After washing up, Wen Zhixia was applying her skincare. Outside, the sky had grown dark and heavy, threatening rain.

She heard footsteps behind her, assuming it was the nurse. “It’s late. You’ve looked after me all day, go get some rest. If I need anything, I’ll call.”

No response came, and the footsteps drew closer.

Until a long arm circled her from behind.

Startled, Wen Zhixia turned, then relaxed when she recognized his face. “Didn’t you say you’d be working late tonight? Why are you here?”

He never slept well at the hospital. Knowing he had to work late, she’d messaged him to go straight to Lanhu Manor, not to wear himself out with the commute.

Gu Pingsheng rested his chin on her shoulder. “I came to keep you company. Are you not pleased?”

She smiled. “No, I just worry about your rest.”

“Really? Who did you think I was when I came in?” He lifted her shirt. “How’s your wound healing?”

She assumed he wanted to check the stitches. “Who else? There’s only the nurse you hired.”

A mysterious smile played at his lips as his slender fingers traced the stitches, slowly sliding down to her waist.

When he pressed the hollow of her waist, a jolt shot through her, making her tremble. His lips brushed her ear. “Does it still hurt?”

Wen Zhixia didn’t know whether to nod or not, so she just gripped his hand. “Not yet. The doctor said not until the stitches are out…”

“I won’t mess around. Didn’t I teach you before?” His hand gently massaged her fingers, interlocking them with his.

He was rarely gentle in this regard, but tonight he seemed intent on teasing her.

He bit her neck fiercely, and for a moment Wen Zhixia wondered if he’d turned into a vampire, out to drain her dry.

When he was done, Wen Zhixia, annoyed, bit his shoulder in return. “This is a hospital!” she scolded.

It wasn’t their home—he couldn’t just do as he pleased.

He lounged on the bed, reaching for his pocket as if for a cigarette, then hesitated at some thought. “No one saw.”

Of course Wen Zhixia knew that—if anyone had, she’d never live it down.

“Clean up all the tissues and flush them,” she said, lifting the covers to get up and wash her hands. Though she’d wiped them with tissue, she still felt uncomfortable.

Her wrist ached, her hand trembling as she lifted it.

Gu Pingsheng watched her, his gaze darkening.

Wen Zhixia washed her hands, then checked her neck in the mirror. The glaring red love bites were obvious—and not just on her neck, but elsewhere as well.

Gu Pingsheng flushed the tissues, then came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

She pulled away, disliking that he hadn’t washed his hands. “Your hands smell. Go wash up. I’m going to bed.”

He laughed at her fussiness, but obediently washed his hands, only for his smile to fade as he looked at himself in the mirror.

Late at night, Wen Zhixia, exhausted, slept more soundly with him beside her.

But Gu Pingsheng felt no drowsiness.

His phone lit up—a photo from Zhao Fuhe, sprawled in bed, the covers artfully disheveled.

With the lights off, the phone’s glow was harsh and glaring.

Wen Zhixia, sensing the light in her sleep, burrowed closer into his arms.

Gu Pingsheng glanced at her, deleted the photo, and shut his phone.

Morning.

Wen Zhixia woke in his embrace, the first thing she saw his strong jaw, sunlight streaming through the window, filling the room with golden light.

She couldn’t help but smile, slipping out of bed to wash up.

She didn’t notice that the man, eyes apparently closed, suddenly opened them the moment the bathroom door shut.

“President Gu, everything is arranged,” Li Yueting reported over the phone.

Gu Pingsheng looked toward the bathroom. “Mm… move next Wednesday’s appointments back.”

Li Yueting hesitated. “President Gu… is there something else scheduled?”

Gu Pingsheng spoke coolly. “The Chang’an Club.”

The Chang’an Club?

“President Gu, didn’t you cancel last time? Why the sudden change?”

He fell silent—clearly not a question for her to ask. Li Yueting pressed her lips together. “Shall I accompany you, or do you have other plans?”

“Xiaxia will come with me. You needn’t concern yourself.” His voice was low.

Since Wen Zhixia’s resignation, Gu Pingsheng had kept her from public life—so why bring her out now?

Li Yueting had questions, but could not voice them. “Yes, I understand.”

After hanging up, Gu Pingsheng entered the bathroom just as Wen Zhixia finished, about to let him have it.

“Wait,” he called after her.

“Yes?” Wen Zhixia replied.