《Zhenzhen’s Diary》 27

June 21: Today is the summer solstice and Hubby’s birthday. I read a lot of novel references before I finally found a gift Hubby likes (a boyfriend shirt). But I didn’t spend any money on it.

June 22: Hubby gave me three five-star reviews! On my bottom, my inner thigh! And in my hair!

June 30: Today is the last day of the first half of the year, and I still haven’t seen Hubby. I finished reading the novels Yueyue recommended. She said that in novels, everyone is a CEO, and no one wants to read about poor main characters. So Zhou Sicheng is the type that the masses love, not reject.

I think she’s right. Now, when I think of Hubby, I don’t feel like throwing up as much anymore. Things are improving.

July 1: The sister in HR said there will be a raise in the second half of the year, and Yueyue got the biggest raise.

July 7: I miss Hubby so much tonight because Zhou Sicheng is going on a one-week business trip. I don’t want to write a daily diary anymore; I’ll just write a weekly log instead.

I realized that “Daily (Sun God) Log” and “Weekly (Sicheng) Log” both mean recording Hubby.

July 8: Learned a bit of history. Copernicus was right—the sun is the center of the universe, and the Earth revolves around Zhou Sicheng.

July 12: Zhou Sicheng is back from his business trip! I have to pretend to be asleep tonight.

July 13: I fell fast asleep and didn’t catch Hubby coming in at all. Why have I been sleeping so heavily lately? I suspect Zhou Sicheng didn’t come in at all, but I found a little red flower sticker on my calf.

Zhou Sicheng leaves a paper trail in his work—you can’t wrongfully accuse him.

It was utterly infuriating. Xiang Zhen was essentially being unilaterally isolated by Zhou Sicheng—Zhou Sicheng could see him, but he could never see Zhou Sicheng.

Because at home, Little Aoi-Bot trailed him extremely closely, even knowing how to climb stairs. Whenever Xiang Zhen wanted to sneak a quick glance at his husband—even if it meant throwing up in secret—it was completely impossible. Zhou Sicheng’s house was far too big; wherever Xiang Zhen went, Zhou Sicheng would leave in advance.

Little Aoi-Bot really had Zhou in its genetic code.

Xiang Zhen heard that two million Little Aoi units had been sold, and whoever’s name was registered at activation was the person it would listen to forever. But he also heard that Zhou Sicheng was the creator of its underlying code, so everyone else’s Little Aoi-Bot listened to Zhou Sicheng too.

Zhou Sicheng simply had too many little helpers.

Xiang Zhen only had a field of sunflowers, which couldn’t help him spy on Zhou Sicheng.

He could only randomly pick one of Zhou Sicheng’s shirts as pajamas at night, and the first thing he did upon waking up in the morning was check where Zhou Sicheng had touched him the night before.

Aside from the three top reviews on his birthday, Xiang Zhen had only received two reviews on the night Zhou Sicheng returned from his business trip. Zhou Sicheng was exceptionally stingy.

Xiang Zhen took off his clothes, walked into the fitting room, and looked in the full-length mirror.

On his shoulder blade, he spotted a sticker, resembling a red plum blossom falling onto soft, white snow.

His entire body—every single inch—had been stickered over time.

Sometimes Xiang Zhen felt deeply confused: Why hadn’t he woken up through any of it?

He was sleeping way too heavily.

Was the plum juice Little Aoi stole for him every day laced with something?

…

Which shirt Zhou Sicheng wore to work depended on which of his shirts his wife had chosen as pajamas the previous night.

Because of this, Zhou Sicheng’s shirt and suit occasionally didn’t match, though none of it could hide his handsomeness.

Every day, after gloomily holding his wife, he had to head down to the even darker basement gym to blow off steam.

On the surface, Zhou Sicheng’s state seemed near perfect.

The calendar pages flipped day by day, and counting down, it was finally July 19th—exactly one month since the Dragon Boat Festival.

Zhou Sicheng knew that Xiang Zhen quietly looked for him every day, unconsciously calling out “Hubby” in his sleep. His sense of loss and grievance—Zhou Sicheng saw every bit of it.

A pool of boiling magma was suppressed tightly inside his chest. He had to be the one to harden his heart and stick through this. Catching a glimpse of each other from afar was no different from drinking poison to quench thirst. There wasn’t a single trace of his living habits left in the house; he hadn’t even let Xiang Zhen catch a glimpse of a hem of his clothes.

He needed to suppress Xiang Zhen’s desire to meet to the absolute limit, waiting for the explosive rebound.

When Xiang Zhen finally couldn’t help complaining to Yu Yueyue: “I haven’t seen my husband for a whole month.”

Yu Yueyue: “A whole month without seeing your husband?! You don’t even know what he’s doing out there! Those in the know think he’s giving you time to buffer, but those who don’t would think you’re divorced and start rubbing their hands together to play the homewrecker!”

Yu Yueyue said to Xiang Zhen, “You have to be careful at a time like this. Has Zhou Sicheng still not gone public with you? Men are always quick to lose interest. Take my advice: charge straight into his office! Regardless of the consequences, mark your territory first! You’re Zhou Sicheng’s wife—whoever blocks you is the homewrecker! I’ll go with you, I know how to pick a fight!”

Xiang Zhen claimed, “I believe in my husband,” but in reality, he was already looking up the bus routes.

He was going crazy with how much he missed Zhou Sicheng.

The furthest distance in the world wasn’t between life and death; it was that the sun rose at night, while he was fast asleep.

“I’ll go by myself. Be careful or you’ll get fired.”

Yu Yueyue: “I’m not afraid of getting fired.”

The exciting drama had finally come to her turn to perform. To play an exhilarating episode with her best friend—what did a job matter anyway?

As Yu Yueyue put on bright red lipstick, Fan Hao knocked on the door.

“Xiang Zhen, come to a meeting with me. Yu Yueyue, stay behind.”

“Oh,” Xiang Zhen complied.

“Oh.” Yu Yueyue deflated like a popped balloon; today was clearly not suitable for travel.

Fan Hao glanced at Xiang Zhen’s outfit—a small black suit, dignified and proper, with the ring on his hand. Perfect.

Today was the mid-year work conference of the Zhoufu Group. Executives from the group and its subsidiaries were all attending, with Zhou Sicheng presiding.

How did the saying go again? Power is the best aphrodisiac.

Zhou Sicheng’s power was amplified across the entire conglomerate and gathered into a single work conference—the demeanor of a ruler, the strategic vision commanding the whole field, and the confident, towering presence of someone sitting atop an empire.

Xiang Zhen: “Where are we having the meeting today?”

Fan Hao: “Zhoufu Headquarters. I’m a bit late, so in a moment, we’ll sneak in through the back door of the conference room.”

Xiang Zhen: “Can I participate too?”

Fan Hao: “Of course. When someone of my level attends a meeting, we always bring an assistant.”

Xiang Zhen: “Is it okay to be late?”

Fan Hao: “It’s fine.”

Zhou Sicheng had calculated the optimal time for Fan Hao to bring Xiang Zhen through the door. It couldn’t be at the very start when everyone was settling into their seats and things were slightly messy; it had to be halfway through the meeting, while Zhou Sicheng sat high on the dais, discussing complex matters.

Secretary Gao had worked tirelessly for this meeting. The corridor and the conference room carried a solemn, freshly minted atmosphere.

The hallway was dead silent, shoes walking silently on the red carpet.

Xiang Zhen suddenly realized this was completely different from the morning meetings he had attended before. He could hear the steady breathing of hundreds of people in the air.

It was a high-spec meeting where even Fan Hao had to enter through the back door.

Xiang Zhen’s heart rate suddenly accelerated. Whenever Fan Hao was late for a meeting, he always entered directly through the front door. Did this mean his husband was inside?

He hastily straightened his hair and collar. He was about to see his husband.

Xiang Zhen had never seen Zhou Sicheng at work.

A man at work was always at his handsomest.

Zhou Sicheng was already extraordinarily handsome on regular days; Xiang Zhen couldn’t imagine how much more handsome he could possibly get.

At the end of the red carpet, Secretary Gao was waiting by the back door. Seeing Xiang Zhen, he gave a slight nod and pulled open the heavy, soundproof doors with both hands.

The draft from the opening door caused the golden hair on Xiang Zhen’s forehead to sway gently.

He blinked and followed Fan Hao inside.

Straight ahead was a massive silver screen displaying financial reports that were beyond his understanding. The conference tables rippled outward in concentric arcs, and at the most eye-catching, central position of the room sat a long, steady black table where the seven power centers of the Zhoufu Group resided.

Zhou Sicheng was right in the middle.

The conference room sloped slightly downward toward the front. Standing at the very back, Xiang Zhen didn’t feel like he was looking down on Zhou Sicheng at all.

On the contrary, the moment Zhou Sicheng raised his eyes to sweep a glance over, it felt like a net falling from the sky, instantly wrapping around Xiang Zhen.

The unified black-suited backs of the executives, contrasted with Zhou Sicheng’s high-status presence up front, instantly felt like a high-end cinematic scene.

Zhou Sicheng’s tie was dark red.

His bangs were combed back, revealing a broad, handsome forehead.

With his hands resting on the table, his wrist watch peeked out from his cuff just right.

Xiang Zhen had never seen him in such a formal three-piece suit, complete with cufflinks, a watch, a tie, and meticulously styled hair.

This was Zhou Sicheng at work.

Zhou Sicheng’s gaze locked dead onto Xiang Zhen’s reaction. Though they were far apart and facial features were slightly blurred, his eyes carried immense intensity.

Fan Hao sat down in the empty back row and whispered, “Sit here.”

Although Zhou Sicheng had intended to show off his cool demeanor, he was still harboring lingering fears, keeping the maximum possible distance between them.

Xiang Zhen was completely overwhelmed and dazed by how handsome his husband looked while leading the meeting.

He sat down lightheaded and disoriented, clutching his tightening lower abdomen. Though dizzy, he couldn’t bear to take his eyes off Zhou Sicheng, whom he hadn’t seen in a month.

Xiang Zhen couldn’t find a single word to describe this moment. A conference room he had only ever seen on the news, scores of highly educated elites, and Zhou Sicheng controlling everything.

As he watched, his breathing gradually grew ragged. Xiang Zhen felt something coming, his fingernails digging hard into his palms.

But it was no use. The next second, he crouched under the conference table, his chin pressed tightly against his knees, both hands clutching the legs of his dress pants.

He exerted every ounce of strength he had, not making a single sound, determined not to throw up in Zhou Sicheng’s work meeting.

Fan Hao, witnessing Xiang Zhen’s sudden change up close, turned pale. He bent down: “Are you okay?!”

Secretary Gao immediately executed the contingency plan—an audio clip began playing on the big screen, and he stepped forward, half-supporting and half-carrying the pitiful CEO’s wife out of the conference room from under the table.

Xiang Zhen was brought to the CEO’s office.

No one else noticed this minor interlude, and the meeting continued as usual.

Except everyone clearly felt the temperature in the room plummet dramatically.

Some looked up at Zhou Sicheng—though his expression hadn’t changed, looking at him gave them goosebumps.

Fan Hao looked toward Zhou Sicheng at the front with a complex expression: Talk about suffering the biggest humiliation on the biggest grand stage.

Was he going to be silenced to protect the secret?

If he were Zhou Sicheng, he would remember for the rest of his life the exact moment he showed up dressed to impress, only for his wife to throw up.

He’d never recover from this.

The meeting dragged on for another hour.

Zhou Sicheng appeared completely normal, while Fan Hao watched him anxiously the entire time, terrified he might suddenly break down and drop dead on the spot.

By the end, thankfully, Zhou Sicheng proved to have a resilient heart that had long been tempered by hardship.

Suddenly.

Zhou Sicheng took the microphone and announced with a calm, business-as-usual expression: “Everyone, I hereby announce my temporary resignation from the post of CEO. All my duties will be handled by Vice President Wang Jianbin.”

With that, he set down the mic and was the first to leave the conference room.

An uproar erupted across the hall, everyone staring in utter bewilderment at Wang Jianbin, who had been abruptly promoted.

Wang Jianbin hurriedly pretended he had known all along, looking back with rock-solid composure, his lips curling into a deeply mysterious arc: “…” CEO of Zhoufu? Me?!

Fan Hao hastily chased out the back door, tackling and wrapping his arms around the furiously charging Zhou Sicheng: “Bro, calm down!”

Zhou Sicheng walked with massive, aggressive strides: “I am completely rational.”

Fan Hao: “There are still other ways! For example, you could take the civil service exam and become a rural schoolteacher or something! Don’t be reckless! Xiang Zhen didn’t mean it! Let’s go to the hospital for another check-up!”

Zhou Sicheng broke free from his grip: “I’ve thought it through clearly.”

Quacks. They’re all quacks.

Inside the CEO’s office, Zhou Sicheng found his pitiful wife, whose rimmed eyes were bright red. Grabbing him firmly by the wrist, he spoke word by word, leaving zero room for argument:

“Xiang Zhen, starting today, we are doing desensitization therapy.”

“I’ll stay with you. Every time you throw up once, I’ll fast for a day.”

Fan Hao roared from behind: “Zhou Sicheng, do you want to starve yourself to death?!”