Chapter 19 The High and Mighty Gods

As soon as the key to the Xinghewan apartment turned, a rapid "thump-thump" sound came from inside the door, as if something small was rushing towards the door.

As Yan Shuang pushed open the door, a fluffy orange shadow eagerly pounced on her, its tail held high, rubbing against her calves.

Yan Shuang bent down and picked up the cat, pressing her cheek against its warm fur and taking a deep breath.

"I'm sorry." Yan Shuang chuckled, stroking the cat's fur with her fingers.

She carried the cat to the beanbag chair in front of the French windows and sank into it like a melting ice cream cone.

Outside the window, the city lights came on one after another, and the traffic flowed like a luminous river winding between the buildings.

Yan Shuang stared blankly at the moving scene, her fingers idly stroking the cat's soft belly.

Snowball grabbed her finger and gently nibbled on it with its still-closed baby teeth, a special way it expressed affection.

"Are you hungry?" Yan Shuang asked softly, too lazy to get up. She reached for the remote control on the coffee table, pressed the switch, and the smart feeder immediately started working.

Snowball's ears perked up, but instead of rushing over as usual, it stayed nestled in her arms, nuzzling its head against her chin.

Yan Shuang's nose tingled with emotion.

The cat seemed to sense that she was unusually down today, and even her favorite automatic feeder couldn't get it to leave.

"You're so kind." She buried her face in Snowball's fluffy fur, her voice muffled.

Snowball finally jumped down to eat its dinner, and Yan Shuang took the opportunity to take off her restrictive suit jacket and shirt, and put on the silk robe hanging on the sofa armrest.

Yan Shuang turned on the stereo, and a gentle piano melody flowed out, masking the hustle and bustle of the city outside the window.

At that very moment, the silence was shattered by the ringing of a cell phone.

The name flashing on her phone screen made her uneasy: "Shangqiu Zhu".

The phone rang persistently for the fourth time before Yan Shuang finally slid to answer. "President Shang," she said, her voice a half-tone higher than usual.

"Send me a document." Shang Qiuzhu's voice was even lower than when they were face-to-face. "The final agreement for the Singapore project."

"Now?" She glanced at the wall clock; it was 9:20 PM. "This document isn't due until tomorrow..."

"Now," Shangqiu Zhu interrupted her, "Lin Sheng is not in the city."

Yan Shuang opened her mouth, wanting to say that she could deal with it when she went to work tomorrow, or that it was inconvenient for her to go out.

“...Okay,” Yan Shuang heard herself say. “I’ll go to the company to get the documents right away.”

The call was ended abruptly, without even giving her a chance to confirm.

Yan Shuang stared at the darkened screen. Snowball had somehow returned to her feet and was rubbing its head against her calf, as if asking who the intruder who had disturbed the peace was.

"It's alright." Yan Shuang bent down to stroke the cat, only to find her palms were covered in cold sweat. "It's just... delivering a document."

She got up and walked towards the bedroom, her steps unsteady as if she were walking on cotton.

While changing clothes, Yan Shuang noticed that her fingers were trembling slightly, and she had to try several times to button them up.

My phone vibrated, and the address sent by Shangqiu Zhu was right there: the top floor of Building 1, Cuihu Tiandi.

Yan Shuang stared at the line of text for a long time, feeling that something was not right.

Although she had been Shang Qiuzhu's secretary for three years, she had never been to his private residence. In the past, Lin Sheng had handled such matters.

She opened her contacts, hovered her finger over Lin Sheng's name, hesitated for a few seconds, and then gave up.

Asking her rashly would only make her seem unprofessional.

The full-length mirror in the entryway reflected her pale face. Yan Shuang mechanically applied some lipstick, then felt it was too deliberate and wiped it off with a tissue.

In the end, she only took a regular document bag and car keys, and stuffed her phone into her coat pocket.

The underground parking garage was as cold as an icebox. When Yan Shuang got into the driver's seat and started the car, the in-car display screen lit up, showing the time as 21:45.

The navigation showed that we were still 12 minutes away from our destination, and the journey suddenly felt both incredibly long and incredibly short.

She rolled down the car window, letting the cold wind dispel the unnatural heat on her cheeks.

The elevators in Building 1 of Cuihu Tiandi require a card to reach the top floor.

Yan Shuang stood in the elevator, looking at the countless tense reflections of herself on the mirrored wall, stretching endlessly layer upon layer.

The edges of the file folder in her hand were already crumpled from being squeezed so tightly.

With a "ding," the elevator doors slid open silently.

Yan Shuang had expected to face Shang Qiuzhu directly, but unexpectedly saw a middle-aged woman in a dark blue uniform bow slightly: "Miss Yan? Mr. Shang is waiting for you. Please follow me."

The nanny's voice was very soft, as if she was afraid of disturbing the tranquility of the mansion.

Yan Shuang nodded awkwardly.

"This way, please," the nanny said softly, leading her through an art gallery-like corridor.

At the end of the corridor was a double walnut door, which the nanny gently pushed open: "You can wait in the study. Mr. Shang just finished a conference call."

The moment Yan Shuang stepped into the study, her breath caught in her throat.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows that covered the entire wall, the city's night view unfolded. She had never looked down at the city from this angle before; it was like a God's-eye view, with all living beings at her feet.

"Please have a seat." The nanny gestured to a set of sofas that looked quite expensive. "Would you like something to drink?"

"Thank you, but no need." Yan Shuang shook her head.

After the nanny left silently, Yan Shuang finally had time to observe the space.

The study was larger than her entire apartment. One side had a wooden bookshelf that reached the ceiling, filled with finely bound books, while the other side displayed various antiques that she couldn't name, such as bronzes and porcelain vases.

On the solid wood desk in the center of the room sits an open laptop, next to a small bronze paperweight shaped like a coiled leopard.

Yan Shuang's gaze was drawn to a calligraphy scroll hanging on the wall behind her desk.

The four characters "Still waters run deep" were written in a flamboyant style on the rice paper. The signature was a name she had seen in a financial magazine, that of a deceased master of calligraphy and painting whose works had been auctioned for tens of millions.

"Sorry to keep you waiting."

A deep male voice came from behind her, but Yan Shuang froze on the spot when she turned around.

Shangqiu Zhu stood at the door wearing a dark blue silk loungewear set, the collar casually open, revealing a small patch of her muscular chest.

His hair was still damp, with a few unruly strands hanging down his forehead, clearly indicating that he had just finished showering.

He wore a pair of incredibly soft sheepskin slippers, exuding a lazy yet dangerous aura, completely different from the meticulous CEO Shang in the office.

"President Shang, the documents are here." Yan Shuang struggled to find her voice and handed over the document bag.

"Sit." He gestured to the sofa, then sat down opposite her, casually crossing his long legs.

Yan Shuang sat down stiffly, her back ramrod straight, like an athlete ready to start a race at any moment.

Shangqiu Zhu took the document bag, slowly opened it, and began reading the documents.

After quickly reading through the document, he closed it, then got up and walked to his desk. His pajamas clung to his broad back, revealing the contours of his muscles as he moved.

As he bent down to type something on the computer, his collar slipped open even wider, and Yan Shuang quickly looked away.

"Come and take a look at this clause," Shangqiu Zhu called to her, his voice carrying an unyielding command.

Yan Shuang took a deep breath, walked to the desk, and deliberately maintained a safe distance.

On the computer screen was an English contract, and she bent down to decipher the tiny letters.

Shangqiu Zhu stood less than half a meter behind her. "Here," he said, his arm reaching over her shoulder and pointing to a spot on the screen, his sleeve brushing against her hair, "the client requests an additional clause."

Yan Shuang's gaze involuntarily followed his fingers. His hands had distinct knuckles and neatly trimmed nails. That night in the Maldives, it was these very hands that had gripped her wrists so tightly that bruises remained the next day...

"Do you understand?" Shangqiu Zhu's voice suddenly came close to her ear, his warm breath brushing against her earlobe.

Yan Shuang suddenly straightened up, her lower back hitting the edge of the desk.

The pain brought her to her senses instantly: "I...I'll go back and revise it, and send it to you tomorrow morning."

Shangqiu Zhu did not respond immediately.

He straightened up, looking down at her, his gaze lingering on her face.

Outside the window, the city lights formed a dazzling backdrop behind him, and he stood amidst it, like some kind of high and mighty deity.