WMSR – QT Chapter 27

 

WMSR – QT Chapter 27

By

siofra

Chapter 27

As the brief window for their dates to offer toasts vanished into thin air, the women were forced to retreat. Glancing back over their shoulders as they walked away, they watched the two men still standing side-by-side in conversation, casually acknowledging the stream of fresh well-wishers approaching with glasses raised. An internal sigh slipped from their lips: Figures. When it comes to rich men, not a single one of them is ever an easy target.

Meanwhile, the wealthy man whom those beauties had mentally branded an elusive target—Song Junchi—waited until the latest wave of sycophants drifted off before taking a sharp sip of his red wine to swallow down his simmering temper. Daring to openly flirt with Yichen right in front of my face—they’ve got a death wish, seriously.

Having fumed in isolation for a moment, Song Junchi only began to feel his internal pressure drop when he noticed Yichen responding to him with entirely natural composure, completely omitting any mention of the preceding flock of women as if they had never registered in his consciousness at all. Yet that sense of relief proved short-lived. The second he realized that while Yichen kept up a steady stream of conversation with him, his gaze kept drifting toward the banquet hall entrance, Song Junchi’s mood nosedived back into the abyss.

Having cataloged every micro-habit and stray shift of attention surrounding Yichen for years, Song Junchi naturally knew precisely why Yichen kept scanning the doorway. It was all because that clingy little pest was scheduled to crash this banquet today.

The mere thought of it filled Song Junchi with profound dejection. He honestly hadn’t anticipated that surname-Su cockroach would climb the corporate ladder with such terrifying velocity. Leveraging that pathetic little startup of his, the guy had actually managed to pull an invitation to an exclusive, high-tier mixer like this. If he had caught wind of it beforehand, he would have moved heaven and earth to lean on the event organizers and block the guy’s entry. Unfortunately, by the time the news reached him, the formal invitations had already gone out, and that insidiously sly bastard had immediately tipped off Yichen, effectively boxing him into a corner where he didn’t dare pull any dirty tricks. He was forced to stand by and watch helplessly as a sanctuary that used to be exclusively shared between him and Yichen was brazenly gatecrashed by that obnoxious nuisance.

Trapped in this thoroughly unamused state of mind, Song Junchi watched that detested silhouette finally materialize at the banquet entrance.

Of course, within the ecosystem of this particular ballroom, he was likely the only soul who viewed that arrival with active hostility. To everyone else—whether acquainted with him or total strangers—the moment they laid eyes on Su Yuanhang, whose transcendent beauty seemed to blur gender lines, they were struck by a wave of pure, unadulterated astonishment.

Upon stepping past the threshold, Su Yuanhang paid zero attention to the sea of overt and covert gazes tracking his progress. A quick sweep of the room immediately locked onto his target, triggering a radiant, brilliant smile across the distance toward the person who had already spotted him, followed by a swift, long-legged stride in their direction.

The female assistant trailing in Su Yuanhang’s wake remained entirely oblivious to her boss’s expression shift. The second she stepped into the hall, her senses were instantly overwhelmed—not merely by the opulent, glittering venue and the sea of stunning socialites, but by the clustering constellation of heavy-hitting corporate titans mingling around them. Her instincts immediately kicked into overdrive as she whispered excitedly, “President Su! Look—it’s President Fang from Huamei, President Zheng from Dingtai, and President Wu from Lanting! President Su, President Su, let’s hurry over and introduce ourselves—wait, President Su?!”

The hyper-diligent assistant snapped her head up, only to discover that her boss had already sprinted so far ahead she could barely catch his shadow. Left with no alternative, she chased after him with an expression of sheer bewilderment.

Author’s Note: Another five-year time skip—dare you to ask how that feels, lol.

Chapter 14: A Startling Discovery

By the time she finally caught up to her employer and registered the two distinctively striking, unique hunks standing with him, even the normally unflappable assistant suffered a momentary glitch in her brain-processing unit. She realized with a start that one of her boss’s earlier assertions carried a grain of truth: the boss wasn’t necessarily guaranteed to be the most handsome man in the room tonight.

Of course, she didn’t mean that her boss fell short compared to the two men; rather, all three possessed entirely distinct stylistic auras that defied direct comparison. It all boiled down entirely to personal aesthetic preference.

What caught the assistant completely off guard, however, was the raw level of intimacy linking her boss to the two gorgeous men. That kind of effortless familiarity couldn’t be faked; without years of shared history as a foundation, nobody interacted with that kind of relaxed casualness.

Still, Boss… aren’t you chatting a bit too enthusiastically? she fretted internally. We came to this banquet carrying a mountain of mission-critical objectives, not to catch up on old times! As the minutes ticked away, a rising tide of anxiety chewed at her insides, yet she remained utterly paralyzed as to how she might interrupt the trilateral symposium unfolding before her. The tableau was simply too visually breathtaking; breaking it up felt almost like committing a sin against aesthetics.

Her internal panic persisted until a succession of figures began wandering over with wine glasses raised to exchange pleasantries with the two heartthrobs. That steady stream of visitors clued her in to something else: these two handsome men apparently wielded staggering social currency within this room. No—wait, scratch that; “good social network” didn’t even begin to cover it. A strange, uncanny intuition began tightening in the assistant’s chest.

That bizarre sense of incongruity lingered unresolved, anchored by the youthfulness of the two men and their casual rapport with her boss, until a very familiar-looking middle-aged gentleman approached the pair with a wine glass in hand. Not only did he engage the two heartthrobs in bright, easy laughter, but his gaze drifted with open curiosity toward the boss standing beside them, prompting him to inquire about her employer’s identity. Upon learning who her boss was, a flash of genuine surprise crossed the older man’s eyes before he immediately pivoted to greet her employer with textbook, impeccable courtesy.

Watching that scene play out, the assistant felt her internal reality shatter into a million chaotic pieces. In that exact microsecond, as her eyes locked onto her boss’s devastatingly picturesque face, a violent urge flared inside her to reach out and grab him by the collar. Because that painfully polite middle-aged man—the same utterly intractable, impenetrable monster named President Fang from Huamei who had spent weeks slamming every door in their face, deadlocking their partnership negotiations at the final yard-line and stubbornly refusing to grant her boss a single face-to-face consultation—was none other than the gentleman standing right here!

As for why that impossible, iron-wall President Fang suddenly possessed an attitude diametrically opposed to all existing intel, the underlying logic spoke for itself, instantly retrofitting clarity onto every single one of her prior confusions.

At that exact moment, her internal mental landscape was dominated by a singular, overwhelming conviction: Boss, if you had a VIP backstage pass this ungodly powerful, you should have spoken up sooner! If she had known from day one that he was on a first-name basis with these two heavyweight figures—whose sheer background carried enough weight to make even Huamei’s President Fang tread with cautious deference—a single sentence could have bypassed months of bureaucratic torture. Did he enjoy watching them repeatedly throw themselves against Huamei’s brick wall to get bludgeoned black and blue?

Su Yuanhang, having just successfully dispatched a visibly enthusiastic President Fang after an extended exchange of pleasantries, suddenly felt a chill rake across his spine. He tilted his head sideways, only to catch his assistant staring straight at him with a gaze thick enough to curdle milk—saturated with an unadulterated, haunting grievance.

Su Yuanhang was well aware of what fueled those soulful eyes of hers, but he clearly harbored zero intention of offering an explanation, let alone altering his operational style.