Chapter 63: A Mix of Anger and Embarrassment “What are you doing?” she demanded, her voice trembling with three parts anger and seven parts shame.

Zhao Fuhe met her gaze. “Are you really just colleagues with him, nothing more?”

Li Yueting paused for a moment, her expression unchanged. “Why do you ask, Miss Zhao? Of course, I’m only Mr. Gu’s secretary.”

“But why do I feel your hostility toward Wen Zhixia is even stronger than mine?” She wanted to push Wen Zhixia aside and take her place, but Li Yueting’s words and actions—could they truly be motivated by nothing more than ambition?

Li Yueting lowered her eyes, hiding every flicker of emotion. “Someone like me, without any background, is just one among thousands at Gu Xia Group. If I don’t find someone to rely on, I’ll be stuck where I am forever, achieving nothing. But you’re different. I believe, once you’re in position, you can be my support.”

Her words were earnest, and indeed she had helped Zhao Fuhe before. For the moment, Zhao Fuhe couldn’t see any other motive, so she tucked away her suspicions.

“You can be at ease about that. Once I become his wife, any position you desire will be yours.”

A mocking glimmer flashed beneath Li Yueting’s lowered lashes. “Then I’ll thank you in advance for your help, Miss Zhao.”

Zhao Fuhe gave a soft hum, as if her goal was already within reach. “What did you mean earlier? If he’s making such grand preparations for the wedding, how could he not show up?”

Li Yueting raised her head, her tone now direct. “That depends on how far you’re able to go, Miss Zhao… The grander the spectacle, the bigger the humiliation if the groom is absent. The rift between Wen Zhixia and Mr. Gu would only deepen. With her temper, she’d surely turn on him, and their relationship would become irreparable. At first, Mr. Gu might try to appease her, but in time he’d become resentful.

At home, he’d face Wen Zhixia’s coldness. Outside, he’d encounter your warmth and understanding. His heart would inevitably turn toward you.”

Li Yueting’s words struck right at Zhao Fuhe’s heart.

Indeed, regardless of her relationship with him—whether it had become intimate or not—the more Wen Zhixia caused a scene, the more her own virtues would shine.

“You’re right.”

“In Mr. Gu’s heart, you still hold weight. If it were some other woman, he’d have dismissed her long ago. I believe, right now, he’s only lingering on the hardships shared with Wen Zhixia, but old flames never burn as brightly as new ones…” Li Yueting continued.

Lanhu County.

The wedding invitations numbered in the hundreds. Originally, Gu Pingsheng intended to have his staff write them, but Wen Zhixia insisted otherwise.

She felt that such matters required a personal touch to carry the proper sense of ceremony, so Gu Pingsheng delivered them to her home.

He initially objected. “It’s just a few names, you don’t need to trouble yourself.”

“If it’s only a handful, it won’t take much effort. I don’t have much to do at home anyway—consider it calligraphy practice,” she replied.

Gu Pingsheng frowned. Wen Zhixia tugged at his sleeve, her lips curved, her eyes bright and clear. “Hmm?”

“There’s still time, don’t write too many in one day,” he finally relented.

The more serene and cool she appeared, the greater the impact when her gaze sometimes shimmered with playful charm—a striking contrast, one he’d never grown immune to, not in all the years he’d known her.

Like a kitten stretching out its paw, scratching at the softest part of his heart.

Shortly after he left for work, boxes of invitations arrived.

Wen Zhixia opened them, brewed a pot of tea, sat on the balcony, and began carefully matching names and writing each invitation.

Her handwriting was graceful and elegant, soft yet strong, every stroke executed with utmost care.

No woman doesn’t hope for the wedding of her dreams. From the days of girlish poetry to now, as Gu Xia Group flourishes, holding the wedding at this moment would not be a burden—it would fulfill the regret of their humble beginnings.

She’d meant to write a few and rest, but once focused, she lost track of time and fell asleep at the desk without realizing it.

Gu Pingsheng returned at noon to retrieve something. Not finding her in the room, he searched until he spotted the billowing curtain on the balcony and found her asleep there.

“Xia Xia?” He gently touched her forehead, relieved that she wasn’t feverish.

As he lifted her, the autumn breeze stirred her lashes, prompting her to nestle unconsciously into his arms.

The wind now carried a chill. Her body was always cool to the touch; her fingertips were cold.

He carried her to the bed, and as he tried to leave, he felt a slight resistance. Looking down, he saw the hem of his jacket caught by her fingers.

Her pale fingertips contrasted sharply with his deep blue suit, a touch both fragile and arresting.

He leaned down, his lips tracing hers until she whimpered, breathless.

When Wen Zhixia awoke over an hour later, she found herself in bed. After a moment’s confusion, she tossed aside the blanket and got up.

Gu Pingsheng had already left, but the tea cup on the balcony was still warm, suggesting he’d only just departed.

And the invitations she’d left unfinished now bore bold, vigorous handwriting.

Before leaving, he had completed the rest himself.

She disobeyed, so he took care of it for her.

Wen Zhixia leafed through the invitations, picturing him frowning as he wrote. The CEO, always busy, had spent precious time handling such trivial tasks—for her sake.

As she picked up the invitations, a slip of paper fell out, bearing his sweeping script reminding her to go try on her wedding dress; he’d arrive a bit later.

Hua Qianjiao heard she was going to try on the dress and insisted on joining, claiming she could offer advice.

Her words weren’t convincing—clearly, she just wanted to join in the excitement. Wen Zhixia didn’t object.

The white gown was tailored into countless folds, the outer tulle casting a delicate mist over the skirt, classical and magnificent. One glance was enough to captivate.

The store was emptied, reserved for Wen Zhixia alone.

Hua Qianjiao gazed at the gown centered on the mannequin, eyes shining. “Sister Wen, this dress is perfect for you.”

“The wedding dress was specially ordered by Mr. Gu three months ago, designed by him, hand-sewn by over a hundred of our designers, adorned with genuine diamonds…” The attendant explained enthusiastically.

Wen Zhixia traced her fingers over it. Three months of meticulous craftsmanship had produced a dress flawless in every detail.

“I want to wear a beautiful wedding dress too.” Hua Qianjiao looked at the array of gowns, tugging at her skirt and murmuring softly.

Wen Zhixia glanced at her. “Do you have your eye on one?”

Hua Qianjiao sneaked a look at a dress in the adjacent hall, then hesitated. “But only brides can wear wedding dresses.”

“You can always try one on ahead of time,” Wen Zhixia offered.

Hua Qianjiao’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

Wen Zhixia smiled and nodded, saying to the attendant, “Please help her pick something suitable. I’ll go try mine on.”

The attendant replied, “I’ll have a colleague assist you.”

Wen Zhixia nodded.

With grandeur came weight; the dress was heavy and difficult to wear alone.

It was tailored exactly to her measurements, and all of this had been arranged without her knowledge.

“I’ve worked here five years, and Mr. Gu is the most attentive man I’ve ever seen,” the attendant said, helping her into the dress, not without envy.

Wen Zhixia looked at herself in the mirror, a faint smile at her lips.

What woman wouldn’t wish to be cherished by the one she loves?

The curtain drew back, and under the lights, the dress shone even brighter. Wen Zhixia lifted her gaze, and unexpectedly, Gu Pingsheng had just entered.

His eyes were deep as a whirlpool, fixed on her, unable to look away.

The attendant smiled. “Mr. Gu’s taste is impeccable. This is the most beautiful wedding dress I’ve ever seen. Mrs. Gu’s elegance needs no complicated design—wearing it, she’s as radiant as a fairy. I was captivated myself just now.”

“Sister Wen, you look so beautiful!” Hua Qianjiao ran over, circling her twice, wanting to touch but afraid to damage it.

Wen Zhixia laughed at her antics. “It won’t be ruined. If you want to touch it, go ahead.”

Hua Qianjiao nodded, placing her fingers on the long train, bending close to inspect it carefully.

Gu Pingsheng’s narrow gaze flickered, and he strode forward, took her hand, and led her to the dressing room. “Some parts aren’t arranged yet. Let me help you.”

Hua Qianjiao was still engrossed. When Wen Zhixia disappeared, she frowned and muttered, “What isn’t arranged?”

Everything looked perfect—she hadn’t noticed anything amiss.

The attendant stifled a laugh at her complaints, coughed and said, “Mr. Gu… Well, nothing. Miss Hua, come look at some other dresses. Mr. Gu and Mrs. Gu probably have things to discuss.”

Hua Qianjiao was displeased; Sister Wen never kept secrets from her.

Inside the dressing room—

“What isn’t…” Wen Zhixia began, but was pressed against the mirror before she could finish.

His long fingers traced her back, sending a jolt like electricity.

The zipper was at the back; the sound of it unfastening accompanied her shiver. She hurriedly turned to face him, cheeks flushed, three parts anger, seven parts embarrassment. “What are you doing?”

He tipped her chin up, eyes deep as the sea. “Let’s… try it on again.”

He was up to mischief.

“Go out, let the attendant help.” Wen Zhixia refused to indulge him; the attendant and Hua Qianjiao were outside. He was shameless, but she still had her dignity.

“Mrs. Gu, your husband’s right here—why trouble anyone else?” He bit her lips and held her slender waist firmly.

She was not voluptuous—rather, she was delicate and slim, yet that contrast of apparent fragility and inner strength was all the more captivating. His hands grew restless.

The dressing room wasn’t small, but neither was it spacious; he was tall, and pressed together, the air seemed to thin.

“Sister Wen, are you ready yet?” Hua Qianjiao called, unable to wait any longer.

The attendant tried to stop her, but it was too late, so she stood aside, keeping her eyes respectfully averted.

Just now, Mr. Gu’s gaze toward Mrs. Gu had been positively ravenous—who knew what heated scene was unfolding inside.

But as the attendant’s imagination ran wild, Wen Zhixia emerged, her cheeks a little red, but otherwise unchanged.

Only one thing was clear: Mr. Gu spent another five or six minutes inside before coming out.

His expression could only be described as—frustrated desire.

If judged by the time spent, anyone would think he’d just changed clothes.

The attendant watched as he stared at Wen Zhixia, equal parts fiery, annoyed, and helpless, wanting to laugh but holding back, glancing away several times.

Wen Zhixia acted as if she’d seen nothing—he’d embarrassed himself, so let him bear it alone.

The day before the wedding, everything proceeded as usual, except Gu Pingsheng, who was supposed to discuss the final details with her, had to deal with urgent business at the company and would return late.

Chengya Residence.

“How did you get so sick?” Gu Pingsheng frowned at Zhao Fuhe, who lay pale and coughing on the bed.

Zhao Fuhe scooted closer, resting her head on his leg. “I don’t know. I just feel awful. The doctor said my body was weakened by the previous miscarriage, and lately I’ve been so distressed—that’s why I fell ill.”

“Distressed about what?” he asked, eyes narrowing.

Zhao Fuhe looked at him pitifully. “Don’t you know, senior… Because I love you.”

Gu Pingsheng smiled faintly. “If you love me, you should take better care of yourself. If you’re always sick, how can you love me?”

“I don’t want to be like this…” Zhao Fuhe covered her face with her hands. “But… but… tell me, do I mean anything to you?”

Gu Pingsheng handed her a tissue. “Don’t say such foolish things.”

Zhao Fuhe’s eyes brimmed with tears. “Isn’t it true? I always feel you care so much about her, but I’m just someone you can take or leave. All of Si Fang City knows you’re planning a grand wedding, but I can only wait here for your occasional visits. My heart truly aches.”

Gu Pingsheng’s gaze narrowed, his tone cooled. “What do you want, then? Should I marry you?”

Zhao Fuhe, quick to read his mood, realized she’d touched a nerve and choked back tears. “That’s not what I meant. I just… I just love you too much. I know I can never compare to her…”

“That’s enough. Take care of yourself, I’m leaving now.” Apparently tired of her tears, Gu Pingsheng stood and spoke in a low voice.

As he turned to go, Zhao Fuhe hurried after him, wrapping her arms tightly around him from behind. “I know I was wrong. Please don’t leave. I’m just… just muddled from illness. Stay with me, please? Only with you here can I get better faster.”

Gu Pingsheng lowered his eyes, silent.

Outside, night had already fallen. Wen Zhixia glanced at the time and called Gu Pingsheng.

The phone rang in his pocket, and Gu Pingsheng checked the caller ID.

Zhao Fuhe saw it too. She clung tightly to him, crying. “Your wedding’s tomorrow, and you have plenty of time for her. Could you—could you give tonight to me? I ask nothing else, just… just for tonight, let me dream a little, dream that I could be your bride, just for tonight…”