AADWFL Chapter 5

Tao Kang immediately noticed Yu Xiuming’s lapse in composure and quickly whispered,
“Don’t act rashly.”

Being able to keep his emotions hidden had been a skill Yu Xiuming had honed since childhood. Even the most seasoned opponents in the business world found it hard to read his expression or guess his intentions.
But right now, he felt a solid weight pressing against his chest—he simply couldn’t calm down.

After a long silence, he finally said,
“Uncle Kang, please—go ahead.”

The apartment was large. The semi-open kitchen was some distance from the living room where they sat, but Yu Xiuming still made sure to lower his voice.

“Xiao Ning just went through something recently. His mood probably hasn’t settled yet. He’s still young,” Tao Kang paused, then continued, “Maybe he’s just scared.”

“Don’t question him about it. Give it some time; maybe he’ll be fine later.” Tao Kang thought for a moment. “After all, that kind of thing isn’t easy for anyone to take lightly. And maybe… because of what happened that day, things between you two—well, they might be a bit awkward now. And even if Xiao Ning does decide to resign later…”

He sighed. “That’s his decision. Don’t act on impulse, and don’t be stubborn. Just make it up to him properly—and let him go.”

The further Yu Xiuming listened, the more wrong it sounded.

If an outsider overheard Tao Kang’s words, it would sound exactly like he’d coerced An Ning into something improper, and that’s why the man wanted to quit!

His vision darkened.
“No, Uncle Kang, I—”

But Tao Kang raised a hand to silence him.

The hum of the kitchen’s range hood had stopped.
Five seconds later came the sound of dishes clinking.
Ten more seconds passed, and the sound of footsteps slowly approached.

Tao Kang shot Yu Xiuming a look—we’ll talk later.

The private kitchen’s delivery came quickly. An Ning opened the building gate for the delivery guy, retrieved the food, and set it out neatly on the dining table with the leftovers from before.

The freshly made dishes from the private chef’s kitchen mixed with yesterday’s leftovers, and surprisingly, the combination tasted great. An Ning opened a bottle of red wine, and the three of them began to drink casually.

After a long day, An Ning was tired, but the relaxed atmosphere made him want to eat heartily. Yet, halfway through his bowl of rice, he noticed something—Yu Xiuming didn’t seem to be in a good mood.

There was nothing obvious on the surface—his words and tone hadn’t changed much—but reading Yu Xiuming’s moods was practically An Ning’s full-time job. Every tiny change in the man’s demeanor registered sharply in his mind.

He couldn’t quite say what was wrong, but that afternoon, Yu Xiuming had clearly been in good spirits. Now, at the dinner table, something was off.

“President Yu, would you like a little more?” An Ning lifted the wine bottle, poured himself half a glass, then walked around the table until he stood about half an arm’s length away from Yu Xiuming. He blinked playfully, testing the waters.

Yu Xiuming’s mind was a storm of frustration. Without realizing it, he was already drinking faster than anyone else at the table.

He hadn’t intended to keep drinking, but when he looked up to refuse, his gaze met An Ning’s—and froze.

After three rounds of wine, even though red wine wasn’t as intoxicating as the liquor served at business banquets, An Ning’s cheeks had turned a soft pink, his complexion glowing. And worst of all—his eyes, those bright deer-like eyes, shimmered as if covered in dew. Innocent. Disarming. Unintentionally landing right on a man’s heart.

Yu Xiuming’s hand tightened around his glass.

“Just a bit more. Half a glass is fine.” His voice came out rough, hoarse—an attempt to disguise something. He pushed the glass forward slightly.

An Ning leaned forward a little and poured him more wine.

As he turned to go back to his seat, the tipsiness started to creep up. His cheeks were warm again.

Why did it feel like Yu Xiuming’s eyes could burn?

Absurd.

An Ning shook his head, deciding to blame it all on the wine.

After dinner, Tao Kang pulled out An Ning’s hospital examination report and went through it carefully.

“I’ve told you before—don’t think you’re young and can just burn yourself out,” Tao Kang frowned, scanning the worrying numbers. “What did the doctor say?”

This last hospital stay had been at one of Yu Xiuming’s own private luxury hospitals, which mainly served internal people. Since An Ning was admitted, he hadn’t just received treatment—they’d done a full-body checkup.

He was young, yes, but after years of overworking under Yu Xiuming’s intense pace, it was inevitable some minor health issues would show up. Things he could usually ignore—but in the eyes of an elder, they stood out sharply.

“The doctor said everything’s fine as long as I manage my routine, eat and rest regularly.” An Ning answered fluently, though for some reason, his chest felt a little hot, nervous even.

“I won’t nag too much. You’ve worked long enough to know better. You don’t need me preaching at you. Still—take care when you’re out, rest when you’re tired. And if something’s too difficult to handle alone, come to me.”

If he hadn’t grown up as an orphan in a welfare home, An Ning thought, if he’d been raised in a real family, maybe someone would’ve spoken to him like this since he was a child—caring, patient, gentle.

His nose stung slightly. Somehow, he knew—if that had been his life, he’d never have gotten tired of hearing it.

“It’s getting late, I should get going,” Tao Kang said, checking his watch. “Don’t want to keep you both up—you’ve got work tomorrow.”

Yu Xiuming didn’t insist he stay. He only asked, “Did you call a driver?”

Tao Kang was heading back to the Yu family’s main residence—somewhere Yu Xiuming rarely went. Since all three of them had been drinking, it made sense to have a chauffeur come pick him up.

“I called just now—he’ll be here in twenty minutes. I’ll head down when he arrives.”

Yu Xiuming nodded, and casually added, “When the car’s here, I’ll walk down with you. I’ll go home after you leave.”

The wine hadn’t been strong, and An Ning’s face, which had been flushed earlier, was back to normal.

Feeling pleasantly dazed, he didn’t argue when both men left the room without letting him see them off. He absentmindedly agreed, then sank back into the sofa once they were gone.

He closed his eyes, then opened them again, focusing on the electronic clock on the wall, trying to confirm—his alcohol tolerance definitely needed work.

He didn’t know how capable the original Assistant An had been with alcohol, but as for himself—he was still practically a student, barely out of college, and nearly a complete lightweight.

Good thing tonight’s little gathering was at home, and he hadn’t drunk too much.

Besides, both Tao Kang and Yu Xiuming had reminded him several times to drink lightly, just enough for the mood, not to overdo it.

It wasn’t quite the “luxurious upper-class dinner” atmosphere he’d imagined.

An Ning spread his hands and lay back, relaxing. His fingers brushed against something—a small folded piece of paper. Slowly, he pulled it out.

A sticky note.

Resignation.

It felt like a bucket of cold water poured straight over his head. The warmth in his body didn’t vanish completely, but it was as if someone had turned off the heater—leaving only the fading echo of warmth.

All the things within reach now… he’d have to let go of them soon enough.

He smiled faintly, propped himself up, and wandered off to the shower.

He would resign—that was certain. But for some reason, there was a strange heaviness in his heart.

---

Sleep, as always, was the best medicine.

When An Ning woke to the first alarm, the mild buzz of last night’s drinking was completely gone. One solid night’s rest had restored him completely.

He glanced at his phone reminders: Wash up. Drive President Yu to the office.

It had only been a couple of days since he started, and he still wasn’t fully familiar with either Yu Xiuming’s custom black Bentley or the finer details of the job. So, he had made an extremely detailed task list on his phone—whenever he forgot something, he’d check it to make sure he didn’t mess up.

Timing things perfectly, An Ning went down to the underground garage, drove the car around, and parked at the front entrance. Five minutes later, Yu Xiuming came down, impeccably dressed, and got into the back seat.

As they drove onto the main road, An Ning knew that Yu Xiuming rarely rested during morning commutes—he usually used that time to discuss the day’s plans. So An Ning smoothly recited what he’d prepared in advance, and the ride passed without a hitch.

They arrived at the office right on schedule, took the elevator up to the 27th floor together, and—like clockwork—went to their respective offices. Ten minutes later, An Ning brought coffee; two hours later, tea. Everything went smoothly.

The lingering weight of Yu Xiuming’s gaze, which had been shadowing An Ning for days, now seemed to have quietly vanished—not that Yu Xiuming wasn’t looking at him at all. They still spent nearly every moment together, at work and outside it.

But now, when Yu Xiuming looked at him, his eyes were calm, still, like water. Gone was the searing intensity that used to make An Ning second-guess everything, heart fluttering and mind scattered.

In any case, that was a good thing.

Without that unsettling heat in the air, An Ning found himself settling comfortably into the job. Soon, he’d no longer need his phone reminders—he’d be able to handle everything with ease.

A month passed smoothly, and An Ning felt more and more like he’d perfectly merged with the original version of himself.

Except for one thing—

He could guarantee that whenever he saw his boss, Yu Xiuming, he could now keep his heart perfectly still.

A good sign. He had to maintain it.

That afternoon, they had just finished a monthly summary meeting. Normally, unless there was a particularly important issue, Yu Xiuming wouldn’t personally attend these meetings—An Ning would preside over them in his place. The meetings were largely routine: repeating key points, listening to departmental reports, and noting any matters requiring the president’s final approval. Only in those special cases would An Ning go to Yu Xiuming afterward for confirmation.

Today, there wasn’t anything particularly urgent to report. Still, An Ning had already received a message from Yu Xiuming before the meeting began. “Come to my office after it’s over.”

When An Ning left the conference room, he went back to his own office first, set down his materials, and took a sip of water.

It was already autumn in Binzhou that September. An Ning wore a light two-piece suit. Unfortunately, the weather had turned warm again, and after talking for several hours straight in the stuffy conference room, he had already removed his jacket, leaving only his shirt.

The moment he stepped into his office, the wide, empty space suddenly felt much colder. Dressed in just a thin shirt, he couldn’t help but sneeze.

The aftereffect hit him hard—his head buzzed faintly. After several hours of intense focus, his expression finally softened into one of dazed fatigue.

After a pause, he picked up his jacket and dutifully put it on again. Then, choosing a few documents that needed to be handed to Yu Xiuming, he went to the president’s office and knocked on the door.

“President Yu, it’s me—An Ning.”

He knocked three times, lowered his hand, and within seconds came a voice from inside.

“Come in.”