Volume One, Chapter 34: Is the Game of Crying Wolf Fun?

Two adults and one child.

Large hands holding a small hand.

Lu Jinnian and Lin Zhaozhao, one on each side, held the skipping Lu Xiaomu between them.

It was as if yesterday were unfolding again.

In Sang Wan’s mind, the scene from Lu Xiaomu’s birthday resurfaced uncontrollably.

Seeing Sang Wan, the trio halted in unison.

The smile on Lu Jinnian’s face froze, a flash of awkwardness passing through his eyes. “Sang Wan, what’s going on with you? Didn’t you say you wouldn’t come?”

Before Sang Wan could answer, Lin Zhaozhao, standing to the side, already looked anxious and guilty, “Sister Sang, I’m sorry... It was Mu who called and invited me. President Lu said you wouldn’t be coming, so I just came along. If you want, I can take off the T-shirt and give it to you?”

“No need,” Sang Wan replied, her gaze landing on Lu Xiaomu, who was hiding behind Lin Zhaozhao and making faces at her. “Playing the ‘Wolf is Coming’ game—was it fun?”

Lu Xiaomu continued to make silly faces, clearly unfazed.

Sang Wan wasn’t angry at all; her expression remained calm. “Lu Xiaomu, next time the wolf comes, there won’t be a kind-hearted farmer to help you.”

What wolf? What kind-hearted farmer? He didn’t care at all. All he knew was that among all the moms today, Aunt Zhaozhao was the youngest and prettiest.

“Aunt Zhaozhao, don’t mind her! Let me show you my little pony...”

Lu Xiaomu announced loudly, reaching out to tug Lin Zhaozhao’s hand.

But even after he turned into the playground, Sang Wan didn’t come after them.

When he looked back, he saw only Sang Wan’s retreating figure, striding away.

Grandma said that his mother didn’t have the fate of a princess, but she had all the ailments of one—she couldn’t be spoiled!

Aunt said all the money his mother spent was earned by his father; she wasn’t even as good as the housekeeper.

But he was different. He was the young master of the Lu family. Except for his father, no one else could tell him what to do. Not even her!

Hmph!

He didn’t care at all.

Lu Xiaomu scrunched his nose in indignation and pulled Lin Zhaozhao into the event hall.

Sitting in the taxi back to the office, Sang Wan stared blankly out at the high-rises passing by, her expression vacant.

She opened her phone. Scrolling from top to bottom through her photo album, every picture was of Lu Xiaomu.

A chubby baby swaddled in blankets.

A toddler babbling and learning to walk.

Drawing pictures.

Building with blocks.

Calling “Mommy” in the sweetest, softest voice.

But in the blink of an eye, he’d learned how to play tricks on her.

From the moment she saw Lin Zhaozhao, Sang Wan had realized the truth.

Lu Xiaomu had done it on purpose.

All the nannies at home were ones she’d worked with for years. She hadn’t told them about Lu Jinnian, but when it came to Lu Xiaomu, she’d always left detailed instructions, even after she left.

The nanny would always check the group chat messages; on weekends, she’d be sure to remind Lu Xiaomu to finish his drawing.

On Sunday nights, after Lu Xiaomu fell asleep, the nanny would check his backpack, pack everything he needed, including a clean T-shirt and shorts.

If the drawing wasn’t in the bag, Teacher Tingting would definitely call her.

But Lu Xiaomu deliberately took the drawing out of his backpack that morning.

Just so she would see Lin Zhaozhao when she arrived at kindergarten.

So she would get angry.

Best if she died of anger, so Lin Zhaozhao could become his new mom.

What happened to “all children are born good at heart”?

She’d held his tiny hand and taught him, word by word, to recite the Three Character Classic, and it all went to waste?

She thought she no longer cared.

But knowing that Lu Xiaomu’s cleverness was spent on these schemes, Sang Wan’s chest still ached.

Gritting her teeth, she deleted every photo in her album, then emptied the trash.

When the taxi stopped, she got out with her head lowered, her face set, and entered the elevator.

“Senior...”

A few steps away from the CEO’s private elevator, Lou Ye was about to call out “senior” when he saw Sang Wan step in with a face like frost.

A flash of surprise crossed his face.

Lou Ye raised his brows, amusement glimmering in his eyes.

This Sang Wan looked exactly like she had back at Imperial University, when he chased after her to strike up a conversation.

As cold as ice.

As if nothing in the world could touch her.

Compared to the distant voice on the phone, she now seemed more real, touched by the world.

And compared to the woman playing with 2S in the villa, she seemed even more familiar, almost déjà vu.

Back in the CEO’s office, Lou Ye dialed his secretary’s extension. “Have the new project designer, Sang Wan, come to my office.”

The executive assistant called the project department’s front desk.

The front desk transferred the call to Sang Wan’s desk.

Over ten minutes later, Sang Wan followed behind the assistant, Rong Jing, and nervously knocked on Lou Ye’s office door.

“Come in.”

A cold, deep voice answered.

Sang Wan looked back and saw Rong Jing signal for her to enter.

Sang Wan pushed open the door.

Behind the desk, Lou Ye glanced up from signing documents. “Have a seat.”

Lou Ye’s office was at the top floor of Lou Corporation Tower.

A 270-degree panoramic window, the entire imperial capital sprawling beneath his feet.

Sang Wan glanced once, then quickly looked away, choosing the seat in the guest area farthest from the window.

Rong Jing brought in coffee and pastries.

When the door closed, the office grew quiet.

Sang Wan spoke nervously, “President Lou, did you need something?”

“What, can’t I call for you without a reason?”

The dominant, aloof CEO demeanor vanished in an instant.

Lou Ye’s voice softened, becoming that of the gentle, approachable junior from the villa.

Sang Wan said nothing.

Lou Ye finished signing the documents and pressed the intercom. “I’m done with the signatures. Come get them.”

Rong Jing returned to collect the documents.

Lou Ye stood, phone in hand, and sat on the sofa.

He opened his photo album and turned the phone toward Sang Wan.

On the screen, 2S lay weakly on the carpet, looking like a custom-made, long, embarrassed cat pillow.

“What’s wrong with it?” Sang Wan was startled.

Lou Ye smiled. “What if I said it’s lovesick? Would you believe me?”

Sang Wan was taken aback.

On the other end, Lou Ye was already making a video call.

After a few rings, a deep, steady voice answered, “Young Master...”

“Is that...”

The word “unfilial son” almost slipped out.

Lou Ye changed course, “Where’s 2S? Has it come back to life?”

“The doctor checked, said no gastrointestinal issues... Mimi? Mimi? Meow...”

Footsteps followed, along with a gruff attempt at a cat’s meow.

Lou Ye turned the phone around, and Sang Wan saw a pair of glowing, titanium-alloy cat eyes.

Click! The lights came on.

The phone screen lit up as well.

In the third-floor media room, between the massage chair and the wall, the weakened 2S lay listlessly, visibly dejected.

It was clearly just a cat.

Yet Sang Wan could see unmistakable grievance in those big, gleaming eyes.

“Ju-ju...”

She called out softly, voice gentle. “What’s wrong?”

“Meow...”

A feeble, barely-there meow.

The orange tabby crept closer.

The screen was suddenly filled with warm, yellow fur, plunging it into darkness.

The tabby rubbed the screen, then withdrew, looking even more aggrieved. “Meow, meow...”

Sang Wan’s brows drew together, her eyes full of concern.

She looked at Lou Ye, asking cautiously, “Lou Ye, could I...”

The Sang Wan in his dreams, calling his name in broken whispers.

And the Sang Wan before him, gazing at him with pleading eyes.

The two faces overlapped.

Lou Ye sat up, cleared his throat softly. “...You may.”