Chapter 4 : I’ll send you

Qi Yuanhan’s role at the company was a sinecure, light on duties.
Her position, a nominal Risk Analyst, was a consolation prize from the Zhou family post-divorce with Zhou Weichuan.
Tied to Zhou Weichuan’s office, it was less about analysis and more about propping up the dim-witted heir with ideas.
In truth, she mostly reviewed documents.

Major files, of course, were kept from her.
The job was leisurely—she could slack off, and no one dared reprimand her.
Yet Qi Yuanhan, ever studious, pored over materials sent to the general manager’s office.
A Monday morning meeting loomed, and she had to attend.

Boardroom Dynamics
Most shareholders in the meeting room were Zhou family insiders.
This called for context: Zhou Weichuan’s ancestors were savvy entrepreneurs.
They secured prime land, a legacy their descendants reaped endlessly.

The Zhou family’s core was real estate.
Over time, they branched into emerging industries, thriving diversely.
By Zhou Weichuan’s generation, it was a sprawling family empire with tangled relations.
Old Master Zhou led, but Zhou Weichuan’s father, Zhou Wenbo, ran the company.

Zhou Wenbo, one of three brothers, was the overlooked second child, never favored.
Yet his tenacity outshone his siblings, clawing his way to power.
The family’s size bred complexities—three brothers, their legitimate and illegitimate offspring.
Zhou Weichuan’s generation boasted over a dozen siblings, piling pressure on him.

Zhou Wenbo’s expectations for Zhou Weichuan were sky-high, his approval rare.
This time, as Zhou Weichuan entered, Zhou Wenbo’s expression softened, even nodding in approval.
The other uncles’ faces, however, were sour.
Zhou Wenbo announced, “The West District land plan is stellar. Our company won the bid days ago. Weichuan, your grandfather is very pleased.”

His voice boomed, sparking applause from the room.
Zhou Weichuan glanced at Qi Yuanhan, brows slightly raised.
Qi Yuanhan’s lips curved in a congratulatory smile.
Zhou Weichuan, facing Zhou Wenbo, accepted humbly, “Dad, this bid took immense effort. Any reward?”

Zhou Wenbo, basking in boardroom clout, relented, “I’ll grant your prior request.”
“Thank you, Dad.”
Zhou Weichuan’s mood lifted, his document-flipping brisker.
The meeting shifted to the West District land.

Qi Yuanhan’s interest waned.
When it ended and the room cleared, Zhou Weichuan whispered, “Yuanhan, thank you.”
Qi Yuanhan teased, “Idiot.”
“Huh?” Zhou Weichuan caught it but blinked, “What’d you say?”

“Silly,” she said, smiling.
‘This fool,’ she thought. ‘If I were him, I’d seize this project now.’
The West District land, newly zoned by the government, held vast potential.
Zhou Weichuan had outbid foreign firms and rival cousins, fretting for weeks.

Lacking a plan, he leaned on Qi Yuanhan, who crafted the winning proposal.
Her strategy was to dive into development post-bid.
Close enough—the goal was met.
“Thank you, so much,” Zhou Weichuan murmured repeatedly in her ear.

Unexpected Arrival
The next day, Qi Yuanhan spotted Ye Qinghe on the third floor.
She clutched a file bag, chatting with the HR manager.
Ye Qinghe, stunning in a light white dress, stood out amid black corporate attire.

Her slender legs peeked from the skirt’s hem, a fresh breeze in the drowsy afternoon, jolting onlookers awake.
Passing girls envied her outfit, whispering, “She’s chairman-recommended, tied to the Zhou family.”
“She’s President Zhou’s cousin, right? Gorgeous. Which department?”
“Some cushy role, paid to do nothing. Heiresses like her—or President Qi—live for pleasure, not work.”

“How jealous. Why aren’t I a Zhou?”
“Dream on. Even with the surname, you need Zhou blood. President Qi got in by marrying Young Master Zhou.”
“Shh, she’s coming.”
Ye Qinghe, done with onboarding, approached Qi Yuanhan, “Sister, long time no see.”

Qi Yuanhan hummed back.
Ye Qinghe paused, then asked, “What’s on your mind, so lost in thought?”
Qi Yuanhan met her gaze, “Thinking about Zhou Weichuan.”
Ye Qinghe chuckled softly.

Qi Yuanhan mused: Zhou Weichuan was something else.
His “reward” from Zhou Wenbo? Hiring his mistress into the company.
Zhou Wenbo, seemingly sharp, had actually agreed.
Truly, like father, like son.

She returned to her office.
Xiao Zhu and Zhou Weichuan’s secretary were sprawled over a desk, gossiping, far from sleepy.
“Tsk, that beauty today—her aura. I glimpsed her from afar, worlds apart from us.”
Secretary Huang nodded, “The HR manager’s eyes were glued to her. Bet he’s smitten.”

Xiao Zhu laughed, “Who hasn’t he hit on? When I started, he asked if I had a boyfriend.”
Spotting Qi Yuanhan, Xiao Zhu called, “President Qi!”
She rushed documents to the office, ears reddening nervously.
Being caught gossiping by the boss was dicey—she feared a scolding.

Qi Yuanhan smiled, “It’s fine, you’re on break. Gossip’s human nature. I enjoy it too.”
Xiao Zhu, stunned but thrilled, bowed, “Thank you!”
Qi Yuanhan asked for a coffee.
Xiao Zhu darted out, closing the door.

She told Secretary Huang, “President Qi’s amazing—beautiful, kind, so gentle. My type.”
Contrasting Rhythms
While Qi Yuanhan’s days were hectic, Ye Qinghe’s were effortlessly idle.

They crossed paths often—in the downstairs pantry or the makeup room mirror.
Ye Qinghe was like a wealthy heiress sampling the world’s grit, unstained, or a mistress playing by rules, never overstepping.
Dual roles, masterfully performed.
This held, provided Ye Qinghe stayed out of Qi Yuanhan’s office.

Ye Qinghe loved visiting during lunch breaks, when the company was near-deserted.
Xiao Zhu and others hit nearby dessert or bubble tea shops for hours.
Ye Qinghe would gently knock.
If Qi Yuanhan opened the door, she’d settle on the sofa, laying out desserts and milk tea on the coffee table.

Legs crossed, she pinched an egg tart, “Eat?”
The tart’s milky crust quivered, dark red rose petals baked atop it scattering.
Ye Qinghe’s eyes held expectation, as if Qi Yuanhan’s nod would prompt her to feed it to her.
Qi Yuanhan declined, “No, thanks.”

“Then I’ll indulge.”
Ye Qinghe ate, then deliberately wiped her red lips.
Qi Yuanhan disliked eating in her office—especially others doing so.
Zhou Weichuan had sparked her ire for it multiple times.

So she watched Ye Qinghe, ready to stop her next bite.
Her gaze lingered on Ye Qinghe’s face, fingers, lips.
Ye Qinghe restrained herself, leaving the table’s treats untouched.
Qi Yuanhan wouldn’t outright ban eating—it implied she tolerated Ye Qinghe’s visits, just not the snacks.

“Want to see a movie?” Ye Qinghe smiled gently, “I got an extra ticket.”
Qi Yuanhan looked away, silently refusing.
“It’s a good one,” Ye Qinghe pressed. “A suspense flick: a wife kills her cheating, abusive husband, and his mistress helps the family escape. Logical, chilling, thought-provoking. In the end…”
She paused at the climax, tucking the tickets away, “Ever wanted to kill someone?”

Ye Qinghe was cunning.
She orbited Qi Yuanhan, exuding an alluring, probing aura, drawing her focus.
A captivating, dangerous woman.
How could Qi Yuanhan not? She’d dreamed of erasing the Zhou family, who’d left her life gray, stripped of everything.

From Ye Qinghe’s first appearance as a mistress, Qi Yuanhan couldn’t decipher her intentions or purpose.
Ye Qinghe dropped the movie topic, as if it were casual.
Qi Yuanhan’s mouse wavered between a spreadsheet and browser.
Searching the movie’s ending would dull the intrigue, but not knowing gnawed at her.

She, meticulous in all things, despised open endings.
Rainy Departure
Evening brought a darkening sky.
Thunder rumbled, rain pouring torrentially—stepping out meant soaking in seconds.

Qi Yuanhan usually rode with Zhou Weichuan.
Today, he was away on business, complicating her return.
She pulled out her phone to book a driver.
A black umbrella rose above her.

Slender fingers gripped the handle, skin like polished ivory.
In the dim, rainy light, Ye Qinghe’s whiteness stood out.
“Why not ask your assistant?” she asked.
Qi Yuanhan replied, “They’re off work. I won’t take their personal time.”

“…Oh.”
Taxis were scarce in rain, worse during rush hour with gridlocked roads.
Qi Yuanhan booked a ride, saw the wait time, and canceled.
Ye Qinghe tilted her head, digging in her bag.

She pulled out a movie ticket, pinched between her fingers, and offered it, “I’ll give it to you.”

[TL Note: “Risk Calculation师” (shī – specialist) was adapted to “Risk Analyst” for clarity. “代驾” (dài jià) became “driver” to fit context. “趴在办公桌” (pā zài bàn gōng zhuō) was translated as “sprawled over a desk” for natural flow. “凝脂” (níng zhī), describing smooth skin, was rendered as “polished ivory” to evoke the same elegance. “夹” (jiā – clip) was translated as “pinched” for precision. Italics highlight sensory details (e.g., torrentially, polished ivory), emotional tones (e.g., cunning, silent), and key actions (e.g., pinched, canceled). Bold marks the title and scene breaks (e.g., Boardroom Dynamics) for clarity, per user preference.]