AADWFL Chapter 4

Yu Xiuming had already told An Ning over the phone to go downstairs and meet Tao Kang, while he himself went ahead to wait in the lounge.
When An Ning accompanied Tao Kang inside, he realized his boss hadn’t just arrived—he’d even taken the time to brew tea with a full set of teaware.

When they entered, Yu Xiuming had his back to the door.

At work, he was always impeccably dressed in tailored suits—custom-made each season, outrageously expensive, and of the highest quality.

To An Ning, this boss of his, always striding around in high-end designer suits, was not only a walking goldmine—but, he had to admit, also a walking embodiment of pure pheromonal allure.

Years of discipline and regular exercise had sculpted Yu Xiuming into a man with the perfect build—slim in a suit, muscular beneath it.
There wasn’t a single inch of him that wasn’t pleasing to the eye.

A mature man in a suit—that was the ultimate aphrodisiac.

An Ning’s throat tightened, and he quickly looked away—

He had a thing for men in suits.

After transmigrating into this world, that particular fetish seemed to have followed him over as well. He’d gotten used to seeing his boss in tailored clothing and had worked hard to “de-romanticize” it—but in this moment, hit by such a sudden visual onslaught, his composure wavered.

Yu Xiuming was pouring hot water from a purple clay teapot over a tea pet, his wrist steady and elegant. When he heard the door open, he turned smoothly, smiling—every motion deliberate, refined.

“Not busy today, Young Master?” Tao Kang spoke first.

Even though Yu Xiuming was still occupied with the tea, An Ning could clearly read the innate authority and poise of a man born to be on top.

Yu Xiuming set the teapot down, smiled politely, and gestured for Tao Kang to sit.
“Not too busy today,” he said mildly.

An Ning didn’t notice Yu Xiuming’s gaze shifting toward him and hurried to add,
“President Yu already mentioned that we were planning to get off work early today.”

Then, taking a quiet breath, An Ning mentally scrubbed away any trace of his boss’s charm from his mind, regaining his professional composure. He stepped forward, took the teapot from Yu Xiuming’s hand, and invited Tao Kang to sit.

Tao Kang didn’t stand on ceremony—he followed Yu Xiuming to the leather sofa and sat down.
Then, turning to An Ning, who was brewing tea, he asked seriously, “How’ve you been feeling these past couple of days?”

“I’m fine,” An Ning said with a smile. He’d heard that Tao Kang had visited him at the hospital when he’d been in a coma, and he felt genuinely grateful. “No major issues. I’ve rested for two days and feel completely normal now.”

Tao Kang gave him a long, thoughtful look, then sighed with a smile.
“Every time I ask how you are, you always say that, don’t you?”

That one question made the tension that had been coiled in An Ning’s chest suddenly unwind.

Tao Kang’s tone carried a warmth—and that helpless affection of someone saying, “Kids never listen once they’ve grown up.”
It stirred something in An Ning’s chest, making him feel, at last, a faint but real sense of connection to this world.

“This time I really am fine,” An Ning said with a soft laugh, handing Tao Kang his cup of tea first after glancing briefly at Yu Xiuming, then serving one to Yu as well.

Once the tea was served, An Ning took a seat too, happy to relax and chat for a while.

In the original host’s memories, An Ning and Tao Kang had always been on excellent terms. It was through Tao Kang’s introduction that he’d joined the Yu Sheng Group all those years ago. Since then, he had followed Yu Xiuming through storm and sunshine alike, and his relationship with Tao Kang had grown even closer—close enough that Tao Kang treated him almost like a godson.

So this surprise visit was, in all likelihood, out of concern—checking whether An Ning had jumped right back into work too soon after his illness. And since Tao Kang happened to be free that afternoon, he decided on a little surprise inspection to see how things were going.

After chatting for a while, Yu Xiuming’s teapot had run dry, and it was about time for them to get off work as scheduled. Tao Kang mentioned that he wanted to drop by An Ning’s place for a bit, so An Ning went downstairs to get the car, leaving Yu Xiuming and Tao Kang to follow shortly.

Once the lounge door closed and An Ning’s footsteps faded toward the elevator, Tao Kang smiled faintly and spoke, his tone leisurely.

“So? Did you see it?”

Yu Xiuming sat slouched on the leather sofa—a rare sight, his usually straight posture now showing a trace of weariness.

Tao Kang continued, “Young master, this must be the first time you’ve run into something that actually troubles you, hm?”

An Ning, of course, had no idea that such a conversation was happening.

He drove carefully, a pleasant warmth still lingering in his chest from Tao Kang’s unexpected visit.

Having grown up an orphan, he’d never known what it was like to have parents. In the orphanage, he used to listen to his classmates with intact families describe their homes—kind parents, or strict ones—and those feelings had always seemed impossibly foreign to him.

Now, about to graduate from university, An Ning realized that if he had parents, they’d probably be around Tao Kang’s age.

When they arrived at his place, An Ning quickly discovered that even the most dignified butler of a wealthy family was not immune to the classic instinct of every elder visiting a younger person’s home—

He went straight to the refrigerator and opened it to inspect the contents.

An Ning was good about restocking regularly. He wasn’t much of a foodie, but since his boss was a stickler for details, An Ning had picked up quite a few good habits. Though there were no fresh vegetables—he rarely cooked at home—the fridge always had fruit, bottled water, and some instant meals.

What An Ning had forgotten, however, was that the night before, he’d brought home several takeout boxes of Sichuan food from a restaurant.

Tao Kang’s brow furrowed.

An Ning’s heart sank—oh, no.

But Tao Kang’s first words weren’t aimed at him.

“Xiao Ning can’t handle spicy food, can he?”

At that, Yu Xiuming immediately regretted his own negligence.

Why on earth had he allowed An Ning to pack up all that bright-red, chili-filled food last night?

True, he hadn’t known at the time that An Ning couldn’t eat spicy food—but he’d found out by the end of dinner. When An Ning had asked the waiter for takeout boxes, saying it would be wasteful to throw out barely touched dishes, Yu Xiuming had thought that was reasonable and didn’t object.

“You two eat together and work together,” Tao Kang said, frowning. “You should at least consider each other’s tastes. And you even let him bring it all back?”

Seeing Yu Xiuming’s bewildered expression, An Ning hurried to the rescue. “No, no—it was me! I ordered those dishes. I thought I could handle spicy food, but later realized I couldn’t. I just didn’t want to waste it, so I brought it home.”

Even at the time, when he’d stuffed the boxes into the fridge, An Ning had felt uneasy.

Yu Xiuming had grown up in luxury, never once needing to pack up leftovers after dining out. Not because he was wasteful, but because abundance—and a lifetime of discipline—had made it unnecessary. He ordered exactly what he needed, no more, no less.

Last night had been an exception.

But An Ning, having lived through years of poverty, couldn’t bring himself to throw good food away, even if he couldn’t eat it.

“Yesterday’s?” Tao Kang asked.

“Yes.” An Ning nodded obediently. “Last night.”

“Take it out,” Tao Kang said, gesturing toward the fridge. “I actually like spicy food. Let’s not go out tonight—heat these up, and we’ll order a few new dishes to go with them.”

Yu Xiuming gave a slow nod. “That sounds fine to me.”

And so, something entirely contrary to An Ning’s image of a “wealthy household” soon unfolded before his eyes.

Yu Xiuming and Tao Kang sat chatting on the living room sofa, while An Ning—having volunteered—busied himself in the kitchen, reheating last night’s leftovers and waiting for the private restaurant’s delivery of a few fresh dishes.

“Still busy lately? Lots of social engagements?” Tao Kang asked.

“The usual,” Yu Xiuming replied, leaning back in a light coffee-colored armchair. His elbow rested on the armrest, his posture relaxed, though his expression betrayed exhaustion. “A bit busier than the first half of the year. But since… the incident, I’ve turned down what I can. Haven’t worked overtime these past few days, you can rest easy.”

In recent years, Tao Kang had interfered less and less in company affairs. Still, seeing how overworked Yu Xiuming seemed, he couldn’t help but nag a little.

“I won’t say much,” he sighed. “You can’t avoid every engagement, I get that. But—” His tone turned serious. “You’ve been in this position long enough to know how dangerous high places can be. So whatever happened before, it ends here. It cannot happen again.”

Yu Xiuming’s face darkened, his voice cooling. “I understand.”

Tao Kang relaxed slightly, leaning back with a sigh, his tone lowering. “From what I’ve seen, Xiao Ning seems perfectly normal. Could it be that you’re overthinking it? Or maybe… a side effect from the medication?”

Yu Xiuming glanced toward the kitchen, expression unreadable, about to speak—

When Tao Kang suddenly exclaimed, “What’s this?”

He had absentmindedly reached between the sofa cushions and pulled out a small slip of paper—a note, the kind you could carry in your pocket.

The writing on it was perfectly clear.

And to Yu Xiuming, shockingly so.

Resignation.

Their eyes met—both filled with disbelief.

Tao Kang was the first to react. He quickly shoved the sticky note he’d accidentally pulled out back where it belonged, lowered his voice, and asked,
“What did you do to him, hmm?”

Yu Xiuming had never encountered something so baffling in his life.

An Ning had been working just fine by his side, so how was it that the first time Uncle Kang came over to visit, he could just happen to pick up a random note from the sofa and find that kind of explosive message on it?

After the initial shock, Yu Xiuming’s eyes darkened, a shadow clouding them. A faint but persistent irritation rose in his chest—sharp and clawing, impossible to shake off.

An Ning—his assistant, his company’s executive—why would he quietly, without a word, continue working beside him so dutifully, so devotedly as if his whole heart was in it… and at the same time, write something like a “final goal to resign”?

Had he treated him unfairly? Taken advantage of him somehow?