Su Qian’s words served two purposes. First, she had a vague suspicion that something was off with her son. Second, she was testing Zhou Yang. Sure enough—after she finished speaking, Zhou Yang flicked his gaze toward her, light and fleeting, his face expressionless. But that very lack of expression was, in itself, a sign that something was wrong.

 

Mother and son held their ground for three seconds. Only then did Zhou Yang remove the cigarette from his mouth and respond casually, his tone deliberately flippant:

 

“Where did you get the idea that I like her?”

 

The bastard raised his brows as he spoke, amusement glinting in his eyes, slipping back into that lazy, mocking grin of his.

 

Su Qian smiled, speared a piece of cantaloupe with a small fork, and handed it to him.
“Oh? So you don’t like her. Looks like Mom misunderstood you.”

 

“I thought Su Hao was avoiding you today because you did something you shouldn’t have,” she continued lightly. “After all, Su Hao is seriously considering Shen He right now, and things seem to be progressing quite well between them.”

 

Su Qian understood Su Hao better than Zhou Yang did. After several rounds of subtle probing, it was clear that once Su Hao said the past was over, it truly was over—she wouldn’t cling to Zhou Yang anymore. When Su Hao first arrived, there might have been lingering feelings, but now? Definitely not.

 

And since there were no feelings left, and her interactions with Zhou Yang had been perfectly normal before, this sudden avoidance and coldness could only mean one thing: someone had broken the balance.

 

And that someone certainly wasn’t Su Hao.

 

That left only Zhou Yang.

 

Whether they were eating or playing chess, his eyes and those tiny, unconscious behaviors couldn’t escape Su Qian’s sharp gaze.

 

Zhou Yang took the fork, lowered his eyes, and bit into the cantaloupe. Su Qian had struck two sore spots in a row. His expression darkened.

 

He crushed the fruit against his tongue. Behind him, Su Hao’s voice drifted in as she spoke on the phone—

 

gentle, like water.

 

Zhou Yang swallowed the melon. The sweetness lingered on his tongue, yet he bit down on his cigarette and reached for a chess piece on the table, asking in an offhand, probing way:

 

“Did anyone ever pursue her before?”

 

Su Qian had been ready to leave—she’d already seen enough—but hearing that, she immediately turned back, plopped down in Su Hao’s seat, fruit plate in hand, eating as she replied smoothly:

 

“What a stupid question. Do you think only you are popular?”

 

Zhou Yang might not care about Su Hao, but Su Qian did. She was in frequent contact with Cheng Ling and knew everything—how many people had pursued Su Hao during her school years, included.

 

“Hm.” Zhou Yang gave a short laugh, though his brows never truly relaxed.

 

From this angle, Su Qian had to admit he hid his emotions well. Zhou Yang spoke again, his tone loose and casual:

 

“So that means… quite a few people chased her?”

 

“Oh yes. Let me think…” Su Qian pretended to count, then came to a firm conclusion.
“Unfortunately, Su Hao generally doesn’t stay friends with people who like her.”

 

Zhou Yang’s hand froze.

 

“So when her deskmate confessed, Su Hao asked the teacher to change seats. I think that’s admirable. Not like some girls nowadays—clearly not interested, yet they still stay friends and lead people on. That really makes me angry.”

 

She was clearly alluding to one of her college roommates.

 

An absolute white-lotus type.

 

Zhou Yang took the cigarette from his mouth, stubbed it out in the ashtray, and lifted his eyes to glance at Su Qian with a half-smile that wasn’t quite a smile.

 

That look made Su Qian avert her gaze.

 

Fine.

 

She was talking about Yang Rou’s current stepmother.

 

“Anyway,” Su Qian continued, “I think Su Hao’s character is excellent. Look at her now—after Tang Rui went abroad, they barely keep in touch. She doesn’t contact him either. Clean breaks like that are what allow people to move forward. Su Hao has done very well in that regard.”

 

She popped a piece of pear into her mouth, leaned forward, and stared at Zhou Yang.
“So tell me—do you really not like Su Hao?”

 

Zhou Yang met her gaze with his long, narrow eyes and smiled.

 

Then he lowered his eyes, moved Su Hao’s chess piece forward two steps, and checkmated her.

 

His movements were swift and decisive.

 

Yet Su Qian’s words echoed in his mind.

 

When Su Hao returned from her phone call and sat down, the board was already lost. She paused, glanced at Su Qian. Su Qian curled up in the corner of the sofa and shook her head.

 

“Not me.”

 

Su Hao turned back silently. Zhou Yang sat on the sofa, hands in his pockets, a toothpick between his lips, locking eyes with her.

 

Someone had wrecked the game she’d carefully set up.

 

But Su Hao didn’t get angry. She reached out, straightened the chessboard, and asked calmly:

 

“Another round?”

 

Zhou Yang was good at chess.

 

Earlier, Su Hao had felt like she’d finally met a worthy opponent. She’d planned to finish the game to assess both her own level and his.

 

Who would’ve thought that just one phone call was enough for Zhou Yang to completely destroy the board.

 

Zhou Yang glanced at the phone by her hand and raised an eyebrow.
“No.”

 

He tossed the toothpick into the trash, rolled up his shirt sleeves, and stood, heading toward the stairs. As he walked, he casually pulled out his phone and scrolled.

 

Su Hao’s restrained personality wasn’t something he liked. The board had been beautifully arranged, yet after he smashed it in one move, she still managed to endure without complaint.

 

Zhou Yang thought:
I must be insane.

 

To fall for someone who contradicts my preferences at every turn.

 

That evening, Zhou’s father returned home, but Zhou Yang was heading out. Father and son crossed paths at the entryway and chatted briefly. Zhou Yang went upstairs, changed clothes, and came back down in a black shirt and black trousers—an outfit he rarely wore. The collar was unbuttoned as usual, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He leaned lazily against the shoe cabinet as he talked, every inch of him unruly and unrestrained.

 

He couldn’t have been more different from his father’s rigid, proper demeanor.

 

After their conversation, Zhou Yang grabbed his keys. At the same moment, Su Hao returned from the garden with lily petals she’d helped Su Qian gather.

 

They ran into each other head-on.

 

Zhou Yang’s gaze sharpened. As they brushed past one another, his eyes lingered lightly on Su Hao’s profile and the curve of her neck.

 

Su Hao stepped aside slightly, then went straight in. The air filled with a faint lily fragrance. Zhou Yang narrowed his eyes, resisting the urge to turn back and look at her again.

 

He walked down the steps.

 

She really was cold now.

 

Su Qian took the lily petals, glanced outside, and asked, “Zhou Yang left?”

 

Su Hao hummed in confirmation.

 

Su Qian muttered, “Figures. Never stays home.”

 

Then she called out, “Zhou Qinkai, do something about your son.”

 

Zhou Qinkai was reading outside and laughed when he heard it.
“Can’t control him. Just ignore him.”

 

“Tsk.” Su Qian pulled Su Hao closer.
“Come on, let’s make something extra delicious tonight.”

 

Su Hao leaned in to help. The two chatted softly as they worked, guiding each other. Su Qian stole a glance at Su Hao and noticed her gentle expression—no trace of the avoidance she’d shown Zhou Yang earlier. She looked calm and composed.

 

Su Qian liked her more and more. Carefully, she probed again:
“Zhou Yang… hasn’t done anything inappropriate these past few days, right?”

 

Su Hao lowered her eyes and sliced a cucumber.

 

“No.”

 

Her tone was flat.

 

Her emotions were hidden so well that even Su Qian almost believed it. After a pause, Su Qian said,
“To be honest, Zhou Yang has always had it easy with women. Your Uncle Zhou and I never really understood how we raised him to be this way. But he’s not a bad person—actually, he’s quite good.”

 

Su Hao nodded.

 

She didn’t deny that.

 

Which meant—Su Qian had noticed something.

 

Su Hao picked up another cucumber, smashed it lightly, and continued cutting. She roughly understood what Su Qian was trying to say—perhaps speaking up for Zhou Yang, hoping she wouldn’t be so cold toward him?

 

Thinking back on her behavior today, Su Hao admitted it had been somewhat improper.

 

Seeing her nod, Su Qian finally relaxed.

 

She hoped Su Hao wouldn’t come to hate Zhou Yang. Otherwise, what if Su Hao stopped coming to this house altogether?

 

Besides, even if Zhou Yang liked Su Hao now, it wouldn’t be that kind of serious affection. Su Qian knew her son’s restless heart too well. That was why she never pushed him to marry—it was useless.

 

But deep down, Zhou Yang was also very controlling.

 

If he truly developed feelings for Su Hao, he’d probably become quite domineering. If he burned through her goodwill, things would get awkward.

 

So all Su Qian could do, as his mother, was gently fan the flames now and then—letting Su Hao know that Zhou Yang wasn’t entirely bad.

 

Dinner was just the three of them. Uncle Zhou asked Su Hao about her work, and she answered each question carefully.

 

“How are things with your colleagues?” he asked.

 

Su Hao smiled faintly.
“Pretty okay.”

 

“If anything comes up, remember to say something.”

 

She nodded, warmth spreading in her chest.

 

After dinner, Zhou Qinkai drove Su Hao home. Su Qian insisted on tagging along and sat with her in the back seat all the way to Huahui Residential Area, gazing at the lively surroundings outside.

 

She found the building a bit old, but after seeing how clean and orderly Su Hao kept her apartment, she felt reassured.

 

An hour later, after seeing the couple off, Su Hao washed up, read for a while, and went to bed.

 

Monday came.

 

The weekend felt like it never existed.

 

Su Hao grabbed breakfast from a convenience store downstairs and rushed to work. The moment she entered the finance office, she saw Chen Yu packing her things. Su Hao froze briefly, then walked to her desk.

 

Lu Mimi stood beside Chen Yu and said sarcastically,
“When you walk by the river long enough, you’re bound to get your shoes wet. A problem that could’ve been handled privately just had to be escalated. Ignored Sister Zhang Xian’s advice too—impressive, really.”

 

No names were mentioned.

 

But it was clearly aimed at Su Hao.

 

Su Hao opened her milk, lowered her head, drank quietly, and ate her sticky rice chicken without responding.

 

Chen Yu kept her head down, packing.

 

Group chats were blowing up, people asking whether Chen Yu had been fired. Even the company-wide group was buzzing—some said Chen Yu’s sloppy work finally caught up with her, others said she’d framed the new assistant, alarmed President Zhou, and got fired for it.

 

The gossip spiraled.

 

“Wow, what’s the background of this new assistant? She even alerted President Zhou?”

 

“She must be scheming—one small issue, but she insisted on checking surveillance. Everyone knows only executives can open it. She clearly planned this, kicked Chen Yu out, and took her place.”

 

“So scary… did the new girl set her sights on President Zhou too?”

 

At that moment, an account lurking in the group—President Zeng’s alt—posted:

 

“Heh. You’re all too naïve. Keep gossiping.”

 

“What does that mean? Which department are you from?”

 

“That sounds loaded…”

 

Su Hao was in the group too. No executives were in this one—just low-level staff. That was when she realized: Chen Yu had been fired.

 

Near the end of the workday, Zhang Xian kept Su Hao behind.

 

“Chen Yu is gone. You’ll take over her responsibilities. In three months, we’ll hire another assistant. I’ll support you during this period. Her departure has nothing to do with you—her work attitude meant this was inevitable. We gave her a chance. I asked her to step down and assist you instead, but she refused. That was her choice. Don’t overthink it. Just keep working as you have been.”

 

“Thank you, Sister Zhang Xian,” Su Hao replied gently.

 

But inside, she felt nothing.

 

She’d once admired Zhang Xian a little.

 

Not anymore.

 

Liao Yun had once said that it was hard for office colleagues to become real friends. Now, Su Hao finally understood.

 

That night, she stayed late, eating dinner from the cafeteria while studying the records Chen Yu left behind.

 

Elsewhere, Li Xiu’s birthday party was in full swing.

 

She wore a black off-shoulder dress with a thigh-high slit, hands on her waist, eyes constantly darting toward the door. Everyone knew she was waiting for Zhou Yang.

 

When the elevator doors opened, Zhou Yang stepped out, talking to Li Yi. His long eyes swept over casually, a smile playing at the corners.

 

Li Xiu froze, instinctively smoothing her skirt.
“You’re really hard to invite,” she said coquettishly.

 

Zhou Yang accepted a cigarette from Li Yi, his gaze falling on her striking figure. He meant to take in her dress—

 

but his mind flashed to a pool table, a girl in a little black dress holding a cue stick, gentle-eyed Su Hao.

 

He frowned.

 

“You can reject me,” Li Xiu said, stepping closer and trying to hook her arm through his, “but tonight, you have to celebrate my birthday properly.”

 

Zhou Yang glanced sideways, scoffed, and lifted his arm.

 

She grabbed nothing.

 

She stomped and followed him, staring at his tall back with resentment. Zhou Yang stood outside the private room, lighting a cigarette, posture lazy.

 

Later, Li Xiu took photos, applied filters, and posted:

 

Li Xiu: Do Zhou Yang and I look good together?
(Photo)

 

Almost immediately, a reply appeared:

 

Su Hao: Very well matched. A talented man and a beautiful woman.

 

Zhou Yang bit through the cigarette.