self-deception
For the next two weeks, the two tacitly refrained from disturbing each other until today, when Ning Zhichu sent the final, reviewed transcript of the entire interview to Wei Ting.
Wei Ting unconsciously ran her fingertips along the edge of the paper, where a faint scent of gardenias still lingered—just like the scent on her body, crisp and refreshing with a touch of reckless energy.
He deliberately ignored the slight itch caused by the fragrance, his gaze falling on the quote, "Wei Ting says the financial crisis is an inevitable pain for the market, and Tingsheng Capital is fully prepared." His brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. This woman's pen was sharper than her questions. Although she was writing in the direction he had given her, there were needle-like probing points hidden between the lines, as if she was always trying to pick out an inappropriate thread from his carefully crafted rhetoric.
"Not bad, didn't write any sensationalist nonsense." He muttered to himself in the empty office, his tone carrying his usual scrutiny, but a strange feeling flickered in his heart. During the last interview, she sat opposite him, sunlight streaming through the blinds and falling on her hair. She had clearly come with hostility to dig for information, yet her eyes shone brightly, and her questions were sharp and precise. Occasionally, her fingers would turn slightly white from gripping the pen so tightly that she seemed nervous.
At the time, he just thought this reporter was interesting; unlike those seasoned veterans who only read from the script, she was ambitious and daring. So he went with the flow, giving her some seemingly important but irrelevant information, even deliberately revealing a few vague flaws to lead her to dig deeper in the direction he had set—Ting Sheng Capital was currently beset on all sides, its stock price had plummeted for days, and the board of directors had begun to exert pressure. He needed a suitable outlet to project confidence to the market, and Ning Zhichu happened to be the one who could both attract attention and, for the time being, not have the ability to touch his real weaknesses.
This judgment was very rational, perfectly in line with his usual logic. But why did his thoughts inexplicably falter when he recalled her slightly forward-leaning posture when she asked him the question, and the faint blush that rose to the tips of her ears when she was speechless after his counter-question?
Wei Ting rose and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, overlooking the towering skyscrapers of Wall Street. His cold, hard features were reflected in the glass. He had weathered countless storms, rising from nothing to control billions in capital, relying solely on his iron will and precise calculations. Emotions, to him, were the most useless burden, a vulnerability that could be exploited by his opponents. Ning Zhichu was merely one of his many pawns—young, energetic, and eager for fame—perfect for his use.
He repeatedly reinforced this understanding in his mind, but the scene at the end of the interview kept replaying in his head. When she was packing her things, she accidentally dropped the recorder on the ground. She hurriedly went to pick it up, and her hair fell down to cover her face. He reached out to help her, but just as his fingertips were about to touch her hair, he abruptly pulled his hand back.
At that moment, he clearly felt his heart skip a beat, unusually fast. He initially attributed it to the exhaustion and mental strain of dealing with the crisis for days on end, but now, alone, that strange palpitation returned.
"Absurd," he muttered under his breath, loosening his tie. Ting Sheng Capital's cash flow was already at a critical point. He had to handle hundreds of urgent matters every day, coordinate relationships with various parties, and even guard against attacks from lurking rivals. He had no time for such sentimental matters. Ning Zhichu was just a tool. Once this crisis was over, she would get the news she wanted, and he would stabilize his business empire. Then, they should go their separate ways.
But why did he keep thinking about what tone he should use when speaking to her during the next interview? Should he maintain a distant sense of control, or should he lower his guard a little so that she would be more willing to believe the "bait" he had thrown out? He even cared whether her articles would portray him as a cold-blooded capitalist—even though he was.
He turned on his computer and pulled up Ning Zhichu's information. From an ordinary family, a graduate of a prestigious university's journalism department, only a year into the industry, with no connections, yet he had written several moderately successful investigative reports through sheer tenacity. His resume was as clean as a blank sheet of paper, but ambition was written in every single word. Such a person is the easiest to manipulate and the most easily exploited.
Wei Ting tapped his fingers on the keyboard and sent a message to his assistant: "Prepare a copy of the latest project progress data from Tingsheng Capital, emphasizing stability and rate of return."
After sending the message, he didn't close Ning Zhichu's profile page. In the photo, she wore a simple white shirt, her smile somewhat innocent, a stark contrast to the aggressive reporter he'd encountered during the interview. He stared at the photo for a few seconds, suddenly feeling a dryness in his throat.
He told himself it must be because of too much stress lately, and got up to pour himself a glass of ice water. The cool liquid slid down his throat, temporarily suppressing the inexplicable heat in his heart. He couldn't afford to make any mistakes, especially at this crucial juncture. Ning Zhichu was just one link in his plan; he absolutely couldn't let any irrelevant emotions affect him.
"Ring—" The phone rang on the sofa in the living room, and the name "Su Xiaoran" appeared on the screen. Ning Zhichu wiped her hands clean, picked up the phone and answered, her voice soft and lazy, with a hint of languor from just finishing housework: "Hello, Ranran."
"Zhi Chu! You didn't go out and have fun this weekend? What were you doing at home?" Su Xiaoran's loud voice came through the receiver, breaking the silence in the house.
Ning Zhichu walked to the balcony, pushed open the glass door, and the fragrance of osmanthus wafted towards her. She leaned against the railing, her fingertips unconsciously fiddling with the drooping green ivy vines: "Cleaning the house, huh? It's been so long since I've tidied up, it's all messy and uncomfortable to look at."
"My goodness, you're a perfect wife and mother in the making!" Su Xiaoran exclaimed exaggeratedly. "While everyone else is busy dating and shopping on weekends, you're at home wrestling with the floor. By the way, how's that interview with Wei Ting going? Did you dig up any juicy tidbits?"
Mentioning Wei Ting, Ning Zhichu's fingertips paused for a moment, sunlight falling on the tips of her ears, causing a faint blush to appear. She quickly concealed it, her tone returning to calm: "We're still following up. The next interview is scheduled for the day after tomorrow. He's a rather difficult person to deal with; he's very tight-lipped."
"Then you'd better work harder!" Su Xiaoran's voice was full of encouragement. "Once you get this news, you'll finally be over. But speaking of which, Wei Ting is really handsome, a top-tier rich and handsome man on Wall Street. Don't you have any other thoughts when you interview him face to face?"
Ning Zhichu's heart skipped a beat for no reason. She quickly grabbed the watering can next to her and sprayed water on the pothos to cover up her panic: "What are you thinking? I'm just going to dig up news. No matter how good he is, it has nothing to do with me."
"Tch, you're just saying that!" Su Xiaoran scoffed. "I know you too well. You seem calm and collected on the surface, but you're as sharp as a mirror. But you'd better hold on tight and don't be fooled by the capitalists' sweet talk. Your goal is to build your career!"
"I know, I know," Ning Zhichu smiled helplessly, her voice gentle yet firm, "Don't worry, I know what I'm doing."
After hanging up the phone, she stood on the balcony for a few seconds, stunned. A gentle breeze blew by, carrying the sweet fragrance of osmanthus blossoms, dispelling the inexplicable flutter in her heart. She turned and went back inside, picked up a rag, and continued wiping the dust off the coffee table with her usual gentle movements. The room returned to its previous quiet.
Ning Zhichu returned to his study and listened to Wei Ting's interview recording for the third time. His deep, magnetic voice came through his headphones, every word exuding a calm and collected air, showing no sign of panic even when answering the most difficult questions.
"A cunning old fox." She bit her pen and angrily wrote these words in her notebook. But then she paused, unable to resist adding, "Strict logic, too strong an aura."
She admitted that when she first met Wei Ting face-to-face, she was almost overwhelmed by his imposing presence. In that office overlooking the entire Wall Street, he sat behind a large mahogany desk, his gaze deep and penetrating, as if he could see right through her thoughts. Some of the questions she had meticulously prepared for a week were effortlessly deflected by him as soon as she uttered them, and he even went so far as to guide her train of thought.
But she didn't lose. She still managed to find a few loopholes in his words, even though those loopholes might have been deliberately left out. In any case, her first draft was approved by the editor-in-chief, who said it was the most in-depth report on Tingsheng Capital in recent times, and that if she dug a little deeper, it might become a blockbuster news story that would ignite the market.
The thought of "breaking news" made Ning Zhichu's eyes light up. Having been in the industry for a year, she'd been bogged down in trivial social news and longed for an opportunity to prove herself. Wei Ting and his Tingsheng Capital were that opportunity. With the financial crisis erupting, Tingsheng Capital's stock price plummeting, rumors of a broken cash flow, and internal turmoil within the board all pointed to hidden secrets. If she could uncover solid evidence, she could achieve instant fame and completely shed the "newcomer" label.
This was her sole purpose in approaching Wei Ting, nothing more. Ning Zhichu repeatedly warned herself not to be deceived by his appearance and aura. He was a renowned investment tycoon on Wall Street, handsome, wealthy, and ruthless, and certainly surrounded by sycophantic women. She, on the other hand, was merely a reporter seeking to uncover news; their relationship was based solely on mutual benefit—he needed her to transmit information and stabilize the market; she needed him to uncover inside stories and realize her ambitions.
But why, whenever she recalls the interview, does she first think of his subtle expressions rather than the business data he mentioned? For example, the fleeting weariness in his eyes when she asked about his early entrepreneurial experiences; the warmth of his fingertips touching the back of her hand when she accidentally knocked over her water glass; and the unfathomable depths hidden in his deep gaze when he looked at her.
"What are you thinking about!" Ning Zhichu shook her head sharply, clearing her mind of those chaotic thoughts. She was here to dig up news, not to swoon over a crush. Wei Ting was a very calculating person; all his "gentleness" towards her was just to make her cooperate better in his performance.
She opened the folder, which contained all the information she had collected about Wei Ting. From his educational background and entrepreneurial journey to his investment cases and scandals, several notebooks were filled with meticulous notes. She carefully flipped through them, trying to find any clues, but as she looked, her attention involuntarily drifted away.
The information states that Wei Ting started from scratch, daring to give up his secure job to start a business in his early twenties. He once stayed up for three days and three nights straight for a project. It also says that although he is ruthless in the business world, he anonymously funded several schools in impoverished areas. Furthermore, it states that he never accepts exclusive interviews, but this time he made an exception and agreed to talk to her, which surprised the entire media circle.
Ning Zhichu's heart skipped a beat for no apparent reason. She couldn't help but wonder, which side of such a complex person was the real one? Was it the shrewd and meticulous financial tycoon she encountered in the interview, or the resilient, secretly kind entrepreneur revealed in the documents?
She shook her head, forcing herself to refocus on her work. She began to compile a list of questions for the next interview, each one sharp and direct, pointing straight to the core crisis of Tingsheng Capital. She wanted to catch Wei Ting off guard and uncover the truth he was deliberately concealing from his answers.
But as she wrote, her pen stopped. She suddenly remembered that at the end of the last interview, Wei Ting had asked her, "Reporter Ning, are you so persistent in digging up the so-called 'truth' for fame, or do you genuinely care about the ordinary investors behind the market?"
She answered without hesitation, "Both." But Wei Ting just smiled, a smile that was quite meaningful, making her feel a little guilty.
Deep down, she knew that her initial motivation was indeed fame, but as she learned more about Wei Ting and Tingsheng Capital, a complex mix of emotions arose within her. She hoped to uncover explosive news to fulfill her ambitions, yet she also felt a vague fear—a fear that the exposure of the truth would trigger greater market turmoil, causing losses for ordinary investors, and a fear of... witnessing Wei Ting's fall from grace.
"I must be overthinking it." Ning Zhichu pinched her arm hard, the pain bringing her back to her senses. She was a reporter; uncovering the truth was her duty. Wei Ting was her interviewee, a stepping stone to achieving her goals; there was no other connection between them.
She took a deep breath and continued to refine the list of questions. But her fingertips felt a little cold, and the image of Wei Ting uncontrollably surfaced in her mind—he was wearing a well-tailored suit, a delicate watch peeking out from his cuffs, speaking at a steady pace, with focused eyes, and occasionally raising an eyebrow slightly, carrying a hint of barely perceptible amusement.
Ning Zhichu's cheeks inexplicably flushed. She quickly shut down her computer and got up to get a drink of water. The cold water flowed down her throat, but it couldn't suppress the strange flutter in her heart. She told herself that it was just because Wei Ting was too charming, a normal woman's reaction, and that this feeling would naturally disappear once she got the news and achieved her goal.
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