She paused slightly, wanting to hear the man behind her say more of what Song Xingyao had said.
But Zhuo Wen didn't speak again; his words sounded like a joke, yet also like a warning.
By the time she realized what was happening, Song Xingyao had already boarded Zhuo Wen's private jet and left.
Only in this way can it appear completely undetectable.
Song Xingyao looked out the window at the heatwave whipped up by the turbine; it was a rare sunny day.
Then he quickly pulled down the blackout curtain, shutting out the familiar surroundings.
There was no one around her.
Zhuo Wen offered to let Shi Yu see her off, but she refused.
So she didn't insist. In order to avoid being tracked down by him, this was a foolproof plan that Zhuo Wen had prepared for her.
With a touch of morbid humor, Zhuo Wen seemed to find it rare to see someone as in complete control as Fu Siming lose his temper, and felt he was a good subject for observation.
By the time Fu Siming realized what Zhuo Wen was saying, it was too late.
Song Xingyao vanished from Jiangcheng as if she had evaporated into thin air.
It was rare for him to return to Haiyan at night. The clattering sounds from the children's room slightly cleared his mind, which had been feeling listless.
The soft nightlight shone on Fu Xunzhi's small face.
It was making incoherent noises, I couldn't understand what it was saying.
It seemed like she was trying to comfort him.
Fu Siming murmured something to himself, then searched for it...
It suddenly dawned on me, and upon searching... I realized that's how it is.
Fu Xunzhi was the child Song Xingyao happily gave birth to after finding him, but he has done so many awful things...
I wish I could stab myself ten or eight times, but it's too late.
Because she didn't even want Fu Xunzhi anymore.
He rarely returned to this room because quite a few things had happened around the time of Fu Xunzhi's birth.
He rarely came to the children's room; the room was almost always filled with the cries of a baby and the soft fragrance of Song Xingyao.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I casually touched the pillow of the crib, and it seemed that the scent of orange blossoms still lingered.
A small, protruding bump caught his attention. Following the bump, he found a small white plastic bottle in his line of sight.
The sleep-inducing ingredients reminded her of those difficult days.
But he was completely unaware...
The child seemed to sense the oppressive atmosphere in the room, and the babbling turned into a sob.
She burst into loud sobs.
Fu Siming suddenly came to his senses and knelt down on one knee.
"I'm sorry... I'm sorry..."
Repeating the cycle.
The child reached out for a hug, finally gaining a sense of security.
After coaxing him to sleep, Song Xingyao went around to the bedroom and left very suddenly.
Everything in the interior was left in its original place, as if one had just gone out for a daytime stroll.
That was her intention that day.
In the walk-in closet, both of their clothes were neatly hung up according to their usual habits.
There was an exquisite glass on the bedside table, but it was dry.
Song Xingyao dislikes moving around. After arriving in Haiyan, she always felt the house was too empty and didn't want to leave her room even to drink water at night.
So every day someone would put a cup of warm water by her bedside so she could reach it when she got up at night.
But that cup had been dry for a long time.
He didn't even notice that there were traces of her everywhere.
She once complained that she didn't like such a big house because it felt too lifeless.
But she spent many quiet nights alone, which explains why she was always in the children's room.
Only now have I remembered all the things she said.
He quickly left the judgment seat that had been judging him for his heartlessness.
I returned to Tiansheng.
While the security guard at the gate was dozing off, he didn't expect the president to return to the company so late at night.
Startled awake, I stood up and greeted them.
I thought I was going to be fired...
Fu Siming didn't even glance at it and went straight upstairs.
The person on duty at the front desk seemed a little surprised, but quickly recovered and politely greeted him, "Hello, Mr. Fu."
Then silence followed.
Having escaped to Tiansheng, Fu Siming was finally able to breathe fresh air and relieve the suffocation in his heart.
In the dimly lit office, his mind was filled with images of Song Xingyao talking to him, but he couldn't find her anywhere.
Pei Jing arrived early the next day as usual, but unexpectedly ran into Fu Siming, who had arrived even earlier than him, in the office.
The room reeked of tobacco, and the boss slumped in his chair reminded him that Fu Siming hadn't returned home all night, and not...
Pei Jing: "Mr. Fu, do you need to adjust your schedule for today? You have a meeting with investors later."
"No need, just get my clothes ready, I'll be there in a bit." Fu Siming declined the suggestion.
He had discovered that whenever his mind was idle, images of Song Xingyao would always flood in.
Less than half an hour later, Fu Siming reappeared in the conference room, looking neat and sharp, which impressed Pei Jing.
What should have been a duet between the two ended up being a solo performance by Fu Siming.
With effortless conversation and persuasion, he quickly convinced investors to willingly sign investment agreements.
For a moment, Pei Jing looked at Fu Siming, who was dominating the meeting room, and couldn't see any trouble in his eyes at all.
The dejected man from this morning and the spirited man he is now are completely different people.
The planned itinerary was completed even more smoothly than usual. He followed behind Fu Siming, silently thinking: Is this what it means to be unlucky in love but lucky in career? Why am I not so good at it?
Throughout the day's itinerary, Fu Siming did not notice anything unusual, but there was a sense of calm before the storm.
Having finished his final report, he was about to leave the office when Fu Siming stopped him.
"Assistant Pei, are you free?"
Although the first reaction of an employee to hear instructions from their boss after get off work is resistance, Pei Jing still turned around and respectfully replied, "Mr. Fu, do you have any other matters to arrange?"
"Want to have a drink with me?"
Thinking he had misheard, Pei Jing stood frozen in place. He had been Fu Siming's assistant for nearly five or six years since he graduated, but this was the first time he had been invited to drink so openly, like a friend.
Seeing him standing there in a daze, Fu Siming simply got up, walked to the glass cabinet next to him, and took out a crystal glass bottle filled with brown liquid.
Hearing a "good" from behind him, he then took out two wine glasses.
The two remained silent, each with a glass, until they had drunk half a bottle before one of them finally spoke.
Pei Jing has a decent alcohol tolerance, but Fu Siming doesn't usually need him, as his special assistant, to accompany him to drinks. Instead, he's more often the one picking up and dropping off drunk bosses.
So, in his dazed state, Pei Jing asked Fu Siming, "Master Fu, is it because of Madam's matter?"
The distance and boundaries they used to maintain between them dissolved in the alcohol, and Fu Siming found himself obediently answering the questions posed by the person in front of him, almost as if possessed.
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