Volume One, Chapter 35: The Familiar Sensation of Stealing Q

The benefit of working at a large corporation is that those eager to compete can push themselves to the limit. Those who aren’t, as long as they fulfill their duties, can clock out right on time. Monday through Thursday, everyone rolls up their sleeves and hustles together. With a five-star employee cafeteria, gym, swimming pool, nap pods, and an array of perks, living at the office isn’t entirely out of the question.

But come Friday, just after the midday nap, people from every department begin to stir. Sang Wan wondered if leaving work punctually would make her stand out too much. She was overthinking it. Not long after four o’clock, people began clocking out one after another. She noticed her surroundings thinning out—one person gone, then another. Turning around, she saw even fewer. Quietly, she asked the colleague at the next desk, “Are they leaving early?”

“Nope…” Xiaobai crunched on chips. “Didn’t you read the employee behavior code from HR? The company strictly follows a five-day, eight-hour schedule. Any overtime either counts as extra pay or time off. If you work forty hours straight, you can spend the next few days sleeping at home.”

Sang Wan finally understood why Manager Lin looked so puzzled when she’d asked for two hours off that morning. She’d already accumulated enough comp time working late until eight or nine each night. She didn’t need to request leave at all. It was entirely unnecessary. No wonder Lin thought she was odd.

She asked Xiaobai again, “Why aren’t you leaving yet?”

Xiaobai sighed, “Chef Abra at the Thai restaurant makes curry crab every Friday afternoon. Only for Friday dinner, and it’s ready at six.”

Her phone vibrated. Sang Wan turned to see Lou Ye’s message: [Are you coming down yet?]

[Wait a bit longer.]

Ten minutes later, another ping: [Ready to go?]

[Almost.]

The wave of departures slowed. Those remaining were either glued to their screens, busy, or, like Xiaobai, boredly waiting for something. Resolute, Sang Wan packed up her desk and prepared to leave.

“Xiaobai, I’m heading out. See you Monday…”

“Have a great weekend, bye…”

As the elevator descended, Sang Wan thought of Lou Ye’s flamboyant Ferrari. Glancing at her packed colleagues, she sent him a message: [Could you park a little farther away? Just away from the elevator is fine.]

[…]

In the Ferrari’s driver’s seat, Lou Ye glanced at his phone, then at the elevator doors directly ahead, speechless as he started the car and moved it further away.

As the car settled, he saw Sang Wan step out of the elevator, looking around furtively. It was as if she wasn’t leaving work, but sneaking off for a secret rendezvous. The air was thick with the thrill of illicit romance.

Beep!

At the sharp sound of the horn, Sang Wan was texting, and looked up to see the small, squat Ferrari parked in a corner spot. Instinctively, she breathed a sigh of relief.

Sang Wan glanced around, walked over, and slid into the passenger seat as the door rose smoothly. She held her breath as the door closed, then exhaled.

Lou Ye chuckled, “Those who know, it’s just a ride. Those who don’t, might think we’re having an affair.”

An affair? Just a joke, two words. Yet Sang Wan’s ears flushed crimson, the heat spreading down her neck.

Lou Ye’s gaze lingered for a moment. There was a tense warmth in the car, as though the air conditioning wasn’t enough. He exhaled softly and looked away.

The Ferrari roared out of the parking lot. Half an hour later, they arrived at the hillside villa.

Her heart had been suspended all day—busy enough not to dwell on it, but now that they were here, Sang Wan could hardly wait for Lou Ye to park and join her in the elevator. She not only got out first, but entered the elevator with practiced ease and closed the door behind her.

Yes. Everything was just right. As if… she was coming home.

Lou Ye strolled in with his hands in his pockets, unhurried. When the elevator descended and the doors opened again, he sauntered inside.

As they entered, the air was filled with the aroma of a grand meal. The chef had been instructed to serve dinner in half an hour. Lou Ye tossed his suit jacket onto the sofa, loosened his tie and hung it by the stairs, undoing his cufflinks as he wandered upstairs.

“…What’s wrong, Orange? Missed your mom?” Sang Wan’s soft, childlike voice drifted from the media room.

Lou Ye paused, a smile in his eyes, leaning lazily against the doorframe.

Meow!

Meow…

Five days apart, the ginger cat seemed deeply aggrieved. Its front paws kneaded Sang Wan’s lap, head tilted, rubbing against her arm and face over and over. Cuddling, stroking, hugging, Sang Wan lavished affection on the cat.

“Be good, Orange… When mom becomes a full-time employee and earns some money, we’ll rent a pretty place and take you home, okay? Then mom will be there, grandma will be there, and we’ll all keep you company, alright?”

She stroked its little deflated belly and rose, holding the ginger cat.

Looking up, she met Lou Ye’s smiling gaze just outside the door. The phrase “love-sick to the point of illness” came to mind, along with her own childish tone from moments ago. Sang Wan’s cheeks grew warm.

Lou Ye straightened and walked off. Sang Wan followed, trailing him to the terrace.

When she stepped inside, she was stunned.

A sprawling terrace, over two hundred square meters. Last time, it had been open and empty; now, it was semi-enclosed. One side had a bright, high ceiling, several elegant pines and fragrant lemons, their branches twisted and sprawling, clearly shaped by feline mischief.

A massive root sculpture formed a perfect network for a cat climber. Along the wall, the floor was lined with futuristic automatic feeders and water dispensers. Eating and drinking required no anxious glances—outside was a lush green view of the villa district.

The scenery was lovely.

On the other side, a glass wall, taller than a person, faced the sky awash with sunset. The floor was covered with huge scratching mats.

Revived, 2S jumped down from Sang Wan’s arms, walked gracefully to a feeder, and crunched into freeze-dried kibble.

Sang Wan gazed at the spectacular view overhead, surveyed the luxurious feline paradise around her, and thought of her own cramped attic room. She couldn’t help but mutter under her breath, “I wish I could compete with you rich folks!”

Lou Ye smiled, “If you want to, you can.”

What did he mean? Was he advising her not to divorce? Or did he believe that with her abilities, she’d soon be living in a grand house herself?

She didn’t bother to puzzle out his meaning. Sang Wan walked forward, sat cross-legged on the floor, and watched 2S eat and drink, her mind empty. As the sunset faded and dusk gathered, she realized she’d lingered too long. Sang Wan rose and went downstairs.

The chef bowed respectfully. “Miss Sang, dinner is ready. Please take your seat!”

“No need, I…”

“You wouldn’t want me to drive you home on an empty stomach, would you?” Lou Ye’s voice sounded from behind.

Sang Wan turned, her gaze tightening for a moment. She heard a soul-leaving note above her head.