"Xixi..."
She suddenly cald down.
This man was no longer the Huang Xiaojue of her youth. He was ambitious and successful, poised for a prosperous future, a trajectory further enhanced by his impending marriage into the wealthy Zhou Family. Step by step, he was ascending to the pinnacle of his career and life.
Xu Xiaoya had once asked, "Xixi, why don’t you ask Huang Xiaojue for help? He can’t possibly allow Yang Wei to bully us all the ti, can he?"
No, Xiaojue, how could I possibly beg you for anything?
We are on different paths.
Even when facing severe difficulties, I never asked for your help. Let alone now.
Even if there were ten Yang Weis, I would never beg a single word from you.
Because I no longer love you.
We only show our weaknesses in front of those we love. As for strangers, who cares for their pity?
She turned to leave.
"Xixi, are you okay?" he asked.
She replied in a light tone, "I’m fine."
She was surprisingly aloof.
He clearly perceived this indifference. It was colder than their reunion on the university campus, colder even than when she had torn that notebook in half right before his eyes—far, far colder.
You only hate and resent soone you love.
When love dies, the heart turns to ash.
Why would I even need to be angry with you?
He trembled inwardly but couldn’t utter a word.
The awkward silence lingered until Yan Xixi broke it. "Oh, Xiaojue, thank you for the recomndation letter you wrote for last ti."
He also replied lightly, "It was no trouble."
Such terrifying courtesy, such dreadful distance.
Only then did she understand the great chasm that had, in an instant, sundered ten years of affection.
She nodded slightly and walked away briskly.
Huang Xiaojue remained standing there for a long ti, his figure concealed by the blooming wisteria.
After a while, two won left together, arm in arm.
They chatted softly, their affection evident, completely unaware of the man standing under the wisteria trellis.
He watched until their figures faded from view. Every ti he’d seen Xixi lately, it had been with Xiaoya—never with Wan Donglin.
It seed as if Xixi and Wan Donglin had never been together. But he knew that was just an illusion.
His phone rang.
It was Zhou Ting’s voice. "Xiaojue, haven’t you arrived yet?"
"I’m almost there."
The outside world didn’t know that this was Huang Xiaojue’s first eting with Old Zhou.
Old Zhou didn’t put on airs, but his aura was overwhelming. Huang Xiaojue was no stranger to grand occasions, yet as soon as he walked into this extrely secluded private room, he imdiately sensed a peculiar atmosphere. It took him a mont to identify it: a palpable sense of danger. Yes, that was it—pure ruthlessness.
The man exuded an intimidating ruthlessness, as if he could overturn heaven and earth with a flick of his wrist. The lines etched on his face by age were like annals, chronicling decades of treacherous storms in the business world, during which he had overco countless other business geniuses, one by one, to reach his current position.
His whole life had been a fight—exemplifying the cunning spirit of A Country, where business is regarded as warfare.
Rumor had it that he and his company had narrowly won a critical struggle at the end of last year, temporarily gaining the upper hand.
But the problem was, this battle was not yet over. It was still unknown who would be the final victor.
A temporary advantage didn’t necessarily an a lifeti of it.
Huang Xiaojue greeted him respectfully, "Mr. Zhou..."
Old Zhou responded warmly, "Just call Uncle. Please, take a seat."
Zhou Ting chided playfully from the side, "Xiaojue, don’t be scared. My dad might seem stern on the surface, but he’s actually very amiable."
Huang Xiaojue remained polite and respectful.
Old Zhou asked, "How’s work been going recently?"
"I only recently took over, so I’m still getting a handle on many things. However, I anticipate the challenges will grow as I delve deeper."
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