AADWFL Chapter 16

After standing silently for several seconds, Yu Xiuming finally knocked on the window.

The soft tapping sound was enough to wake An Ning, who had only been lightly asleep.

He opened his eyes, and under the faint, not-fully-turned-off light inside the car, saw Yu Xiuming standing outside the window.

Already finished eating?

He had thought he’d only been resting his eyes, drifting in and out of short naps, checking the time whenever he woke—never losing track of how long it had been.

Apparently, the dinner had ended earlier than expected.

Either way, An Ning immediately unlocked the car and hurriedly adjusted his seat back upright.

Yu Xiuming opened the door himself and got into the back seat. An Ning turned slightly and finally noticed the thing in his boss’s hand—it looked like a food container.

“Fell asleep? How’re you feeling?”

“I’m okay, just slept a bit.” An Ning’s voice came out hoarse—his cold had clearly moved into its official stage. “You’re done already?”

Though phrased as a question, it wasn’t really one.
If the man was sitting in the car, obviously the dinner was over.

“It’s over. There wasn’t much drinking tonight, so it wrapped up early,” Yu Xiuming explained, watching as An Ning adjusted his seat and buckled in. “Let’s go—head home and rest.”

Yu’s voice was clear—no sign of a drunk’s slur.
An Ning had long developed the ability to judge whether his boss had overdrunk just by the tone of his voice, and feeling reassured, he composed himself and started driving toward home.

The warmth of the car had helped; though his congestion and headache had worsened, the chill in his body had eased.
But as his mind cleared, another feeling grew stronger—hunger.

He hadn’t eaten dinner.

What’s left at home?
He mentally scrolled through his fridge inventory—some fruit, but that wouldn’t fill him up. Maybe he’d stop by the convenience store near the gate for a cup of instant noodles later.

But before he could act on that plan, Yu Xiuming handed him a paper bag after they parked.

“What’s this?” An Ning blinked, confused—then noticed the logo of the private restaurant on the bag and suddenly remembered the food container he’d seen earlier.

“You didn’t eat dinner, right?” Yu Xiuming said as An Ning took the bag, looping four fingers through the handle before Yu finally let go. “I had the restaurant pack you a few dishes from tonight’s menu—with some rice. Take it home and eat.”

An Ning lowered his head, staring at the paper bag as if his gaze could bore a hole through the restaurant logo.

The restaurants Yu frequented were all high-end places; even their takeout never came in disposable plastic containers.
Inside the paper bag were new insulated lunch boxes—he could tell the food was still warm, ready to eat.

The lighting in the underground parking lot was dim, barely bright enough to see.

Head lowered, An Ning felt his eyes burn. Maybe it was the poor lighting—or maybe it was just the fever—but his temples ached, a dull pain spreading.

---

Back home, he unpacked the food, arranging the steaming dishes neatly on the table.

The tablecloth was spotless—the cleaning lady who tidied Yu Xiuming’s apartment also came here, though An Ning himself rarely used the place.

Breakfast was usually at the office, lunch and dinner always outside. The last time he’d actually eaten at home was a month ago when Tao Kang had dropped by for a visit.

The place always lacked the warmth of daily life—ninety percent of the time, it felt cold and empty.
But right now, sitting before this meal, An Ning felt a long-lost sense of comfort.

Of course, Yu Xiuming hadn’t ordered the waiter to replicate every dish from the dinner table—not only was there no time, but he’d even given specific instructions: no spicy food at all. He’d also added a bottle of non-alcoholic hot drink just for An Ning.

Eating alone in his quiet apartment, An Ning for once slowed down and savored each bite. When he finished, there was still half left.

He packed up the leftovers, put them in the fridge, and noticed it was almost ten o’clock. After cleaning up, he walked around the rooms to digest, then sat down again—only to feel the congestion return full force. That finally reminded him to take his cold medicine.

The medicine box was within easy reach; he pulled it out effortlessly, made himself a packet of cold remedy powder—but before he could drink it, his phone dinged.

An Ning set the cup down and turned on the screen. Sure enough, there was a new message from his boss.

[Did you take your medicine?]

An Ning couldn’t help thinking Yu Xiuming must’ve installed surveillance in his house.

Of course, there wasn’t any—but still, he had to reply.

[I did.]

After typing those two words, he felt they were too curt—too cold. It didn’t fit the warmth behind Yu Xiuming’s concern. So he added another line:

[Thank you for your concern, President Yu.]

[Good. That’s good.]

Yu Xiuming read the reply, still holding his phone, sitting in his dark gray ergonomic chair in the study, his expression as serious as if reviewing a contract.

Then another message came.

[Don’t forget to wear something warmer tomorrow morning.]

[Okay, I will.]

After replying, An Ning watched the screen. Two minutes passed—no further response.
Certain the conversation was over, he finally lifted the cup, downed the medicine in one go, set it aside, and hurried into the bedroom.

First, he checked the weather forecast.
Then, opening his wardrobe, he picked out a thick coat.

The sleep-inducing effect of Ganmaoling was far stronger than the energizing effect of coffee.
An Ning felt that he hadn’t slept this well in ages.

---

The next morning, however, his cold showed no mercy—completely unmoved by his boss’s concern.

The headache from the previous night had eased, but now the nasal congestion and coughing came in full force.
When An Ning greeted Yu Xiuming upon arriving upstairs, even he was startled by how hoarse he sounded.

After getting to the office, Yu Xiuming told him to stay put and work in his own office instead of running around.
There was supposed to be a monthly meeting chaired by An Ning that day, but Yu directly reassigned it to another executive of equal rank.

With a single wave of his hand, Yu declared, “No need to bring me tea or coffee today—just stay seated, don’t go standing around.”
So An Ning happily took the rare chance to sit quietly and rest his weary soul.

He thought, Today’s going to be my easiest day ever.
…He thought too soon.

Aside from the usual work group chats, An Ning’s WeChat was unexpectedly buzzing.

Somehow, word of his cold had spread—he had no idea how—to executives in other companies.
Not long after the morning rush, once he settled into his desk, messages started flying in like snowflakes.

[Heard President An caught a cold. How are you feeling now—any better?]

[Weather’s getting cold lately, take care of yourself, President An.]

[Is the cold serious? If you’ve got time, I’ll drop by and check on you.]

An Ning was completely puzzled but still had to politely respond one by one—graciously declining visits, reassuring them it was just a mild cold, that he was already back at work and feeling fine.

But seriously—how did everyone know he was sick?

He hadn’t taken sick leave. He hadn’t told anyone.
Other than Yu Xiuming, not even Tao Kang knew.

Outwardly, An Ning seemed like a high-ranking executive with an active social life, but in truth, his personal circle was tiny.
Beyond Yu Xiuming, there was only Tao Kang—and then a few indirect contacts through Yu.
With everyone else, his interactions were strictly professional, no personal ties whatsoever.

So why were so many people suddenly checking in on him today?

Baffled, An Ning couldn’t help but suspect the one and only person who knew he was ill: Yu Xiuming.

Who had been at that dinner last night?
He mentally tallied the names… and realization hit him.

Of course.

Most likely, during the dinner, Yu had mentioned that An Ning couldn’t attend because he was sick—
and just like that, the entire table of people now knew he was down with a cold.

Still, he didn’t understand why people cared so much.
He was just a background character, someone who blended into the wallpaper—why all this attention?

But this kind of surface-level social nicety didn’t bother him much.
He knew how to handle such situations with practiced ease.

However, when Zhou Yehua from the 26th floor personally came knocking—
not for business, but just to ask about his health—
An Ning realized this “small thing” had somehow ballooned into a company-wide sensation.

“It’s fine, really. Just a small cold—it’ll pass soon.”
An Ning’s nasal congestion made his voice sound thick and muffled, which completely undermined his words.
He smiled helplessly and asked, half-curious, half-exasperated,
“Xiao Zhou, how did you guys even find out?”

“President Chen from Haiyun came by with his assistant this morning,” Zhou said with a grin.
“They were here for a joint meeting with us, and while his assistant was making rounds, chatting with our staff, he mentioned it.”

Zhou chuckled.
“President An, word is you were so sick last night you couldn’t even show up to the dinner. Must’ve felt terrible. Please take care of yourself and dress warmly—the temperature difference between day and night lately is huge, easy to catch a cold.”

An Ning had already heard this exact line a dozen times that day—mostly on WeChat—but his ears were starting to form calluses.

Still, hearing someone say it to his face stirred a faint warmth in his chest.

“Thanks—and you all take care too.” He smiled, then added with a bit of chagrin,
“I only caught it because I underdressed on my way home. The office is warm, but still, bring a thick coat—especially those of you taking the subway. Without a car, the wind hits hard.”

“I’ll remind everyone downstairs,” Zhou nodded. “Alright, President An, I’ll let you get back to work.”

“Sure.” An Ning nodded and watched her open the door to leave—

Only to freeze when he saw who was standing right outside.

“Yu… President Yu?”

Before the sound of Zhou Yehua’s footsteps faded away, An Ning instead heard him stop right outside his office door — and his voice, pitching up and down like a roller coaster, calling out a greeting.

An Ning’s brain froze.

Yu Xiuming?

---

Author’s Note:
Feed me! Keep feeding me~
Meow meow meow, please continue to bookmark! [heart] [dog with rose in mouth] [dog with rose in mouth]