AADWFL Chapter 8

An Ning didn’t really have a habit of eating cake. When he said downstairs that he’d treat everyone, it was mostly out of courtesy—as the boss, he felt it was only right to show some appreciation to his employees who were working overtime. Besides, Yu Xiuming had just inexplicably given him a raise, and it felt almost uncomfortable not to spend some of that money on the company.

Downstairs, his mind had been completely absorbed in work—he hadn’t even thought about joining the others for cake.

As far as he was concerned, it was enough that everyone else was enjoying themselves.

Besides, if the atmosphere was lively and cheerful, no one would notice that he hadn’t eaten any.

At least, that’s what An Ning had thought—right until Zhou Yehua knocked on his door with a plate in her hands.

“Thank you,” An Ning stood up, accepting the plate with a polite nod, warmth stirring faintly in his chest. “I really did forget while I was working. You were thoughtful to bring it up to me.”

He paused, then joked lightly, “Next time, you don’t need to bother. Just eat it yourself.”

“How could I? We all saved a piece for you, Director An.”

Her mission complete, Zhou Yehua set the cake down and left. Watching her go, An Ning glanced at the slice before him—and suddenly felt his appetite awaken. He lowered his head and, in just a few quick bites, polished it off.

His phone didn’t seem to want him to rest tonight. The notification tone sounded again.

It was a message from Tao Kang, asking if he’d finished work and what he’d eaten for dinner.

A subtle warmth settled in An Ning’s chest. He replied quickly and casually—enough to put the other at ease.

Tao Kang didn’t check in on him every day, but from time to time, he would ask about his routine. Occasionally, An Ning would be the one to make the call instead. The give-and-take kept their relationship perfectly balanced.

The night had deepened by the time An Ning checked the clock. He straightened his suit jacket, picked up his car keys, and headed out.

The lobby on the first floor was nearly empty, but still brightly lit.
In Binzhou’s central business district, the lights of the towers never really went out—whether the halls were full or empty, the city refused to sleep.

An Ning felt a quiet, unprecedented sense of contentment rise within him.

He thought—he really did have to live on in the original host’s place now.

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Because of the unexpected overtime, it was already more than three hours past his usual clock-out time. After some hesitation, An Ning decided to text Yu Xiuming, telling him he’d just finished work and asking if he needed a ride.

Yu Xiuming was never the type to party till dawn. Even during obligatory social events, he usually kept a strict eye on the time—unless there was a particularly good reason. And since tonight was just a casual gathering with friends, it was probably wrapping up around now anyway.

Yu Xiuming didn’t check WeChat often, so whenever An Ning needed to reach him but didn’t want to intrude, he would send a text message instead.

The reply came instantly.

[You worked overtime?]

An Ning wasn’t entirely sure why that was the first question, but he still replied promptly:

[After I dropped you off, Zhou from the president’s office called. There was a matter that needed handling, so I stayed late. I’ve just finished. I’ll report the details to you tomorrow.]

The response came back almost immediately—

[Good work.]

Two words. One punctuation mark. Sent in seconds.

An Ning stared at the message, a little baffled.

Now wasn’t exactly the right time for a “good job” text, was it?
And besides—Yu Xiuming clearly wasn’t really expressing concern; he was just using the words as a conversational filler. He hadn’t even addressed the main issue yet. Sending a separate text just for that—what a waste of a message fee.

Oh well. It’s not like Yu Xiuming was hurting for money.

Still… he hadn’t actually said whether An Ning needed to go pick him up or not.

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Sunset Bar, VIP Suite on the Top Floor.

Yu Xiuming sat with his phone in hand, looking thoughtful.

“What did he say? What did he say?” Jing Yan couldn’t hold it in any longer, craning his neck to peek at the messages.

“Nothing,” Yu Xiuming said calmly—though he still turned the screen toward him, patient enough to let Jing Yan read everything. “So? How’s that sound? Acceptable?”

Under Jing Yan’s “coaching,” Yu Xiuming had been trying to change his approach—from solving problems through “brutal efficiency” like giving random raises to a softer, more emotionally intelligent strategy: occasionally showing care for his subordinates.

“And one more thing—if you don’t plan on toying with the guy’s feelings,” Jing Yan said, sighing dramatically, “then stop having him come pick you up from a bar in the middle of the night. A dark sky, bright moon, warm breeze, just the two of you—do you want to start something?”

Yu Xiuming pressed his temples. “What would I even be doing to him?”

“What wouldn’t you be doing?” Jing Yan shot back. “You’re a great boss with a perfect setup—assistant, late night pickup, and oh, you even gave him a house in the same building! Who wouldn’t get the wrong idea?”

Yu Xiuming didn’t bother replying.

But he did, grudgingly, take the advice to heart.

[Don’t bother coming. Head home early. I’m finished here.]

A moment later, An Ning replied—

[Understood.]

Yu Xiuming looked at his own sent message for a long moment. The more he read it, the more pleased he became.

It struck the perfect tone: professional, appropriately considerate, and entirely free of ambiguity.

Yes—he thought smugly—it was the ideal example of a civilized, five-star employer.

“Drive me home later,” Yu Xiuming told Jing Yan, “I know you’ve got that new car. Don’t tell me you’re not dying to show it off?”

“Oh, so now that you’ve got no one else to order around, it’s my turn?” Jing Yan jabbed a fist into his shoulder. “And anyway, it’s more fun to drive it myself. Tonight’s been dull enough—I’ve had drinks, so I’ll just have the driver take me.”

Yu Xiuming peeled Jing Yan’s hand off him slowly. “Driver it is. But you’re not going to make me walk home, are you?”

“Of course not,” Jing Yan said, rolling his eyes and calling his driver to come pick them up.

The dinner wasn’t over yet—there were still steaks and desserts being served, and Jing Yan had no intention of skipping those.

“Let’s eat while we talk,” he said, glancing at how Yu Xiuming kept glancing at his phone every few seconds. He smirked. “If you hadn’t confessed all this to me, I’d swear you were in love.”

“Look at you—checking your phone during dinner, replying to texts in seconds.” Jing Yan shook his head with mock disbelief. “The only person I act like that with is Mingfei.”

Yu Xiuming stayed perfectly composed—showing none of the typical frustration one might have after being force-fed a mouthful of dog food.
“I’ve already heard more than enough about your love story,” he said dryly.

His friend, who sat opposite him happily eating cod, wasn’t the least bit embarrassed. He just chuckled and seized the chance to strike back.
“So, Xiuming—since you’ve heard so much about mine, isn’t it about time you told me yours?”

Slightly tipsy, Yu Xiuming froze for a few seconds before regaining his calm.
“There’s nothing to tell. Don’t make things up.”

His gaze turned deep, his tone serious.
“Even if An Ning does seem to have feelings for me, it’s probably just because we spend too much time together. I tend to forget he’s… well, also a man. I might’ve overstepped boundaries here and there, made him misunderstand. I’ll be more careful from now on.”

For once, Jing Yan didn’t shoot him down.

Many people—both inside and outside their circle—thought the long-standing friendship between Yu Xiuming and the Jing family’s son was a miracle. But what they didn’t know was that their bond ran far deeper than all those shallow, pretentious “friendships” others liked to show off.

Take now, for example. Jing Yan was peacefully enjoying his beloved cod, not the least bit interested in meddling with his friend’s wandering thoughts.

And what could Yu Xiuming possibly be thinking about?

Of course—that banquet over a month ago.

A high-end affair by any measure, though to Yu Xiuming, it had been just another routine social event.

That night, An Ning drank wine that had been tampered with.

He confessed his feelings.

And afterward, Yu Xiuming found him unresponsive—he’d fallen into a deep sleep. When he finally woke up, it was as if he had no memory at all of what had happened that evening.

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When An Ning received Yu Xiuming’s text, he wasn’t surprised. He assumed his boss had simply wrapped up earlier than expected, so he drove home, went upstairs, and called it a night.

The next morning, just as An Ning was about to go upstairs to fetch Yu Xiuming’s briefcase as usual, he got a perfectly timed message:

[No need to come upstairs. Go straight to the garage and get the car ready. I’ll meet you downstairs.]

An Ning blinked, a little confused.

To be honest, while Yu Xiuming wasn’t exactly ill-tempered and did everything efficiently, he had always carried a bit of that “refined noble” air about him—one of the reasons he’d hired someone like An Ning in the first place: a hardworking, meticulous assistant who never complained.

Yu Xiuming never snapped at his assistants or acted condescending, but his standards were crystal clear—precision, refinement, and comfort. His life had to be polished down to the smallest detail.

Outside of those expectations, there were no extra demands. If you failed, he wouldn’t yell—he’d just end your probation and have HR handle your dismissal, no hard feelings.

Before An Ning, at least four or five assistants had cycled through that exact process.

Yet somehow, since An Ning took over, he’d lasted—miraculously—year after year.

Clearly, he was the only one who didn’t mind, and maybe even enjoyed, the little things like “going upstairs every morning to fetch the boss’s briefcase.”

But today, Yu Xiuming had told him not to bother?

[Understood.]

Regardless, Yu Xiuming’s instructions came first. An Ning quickly replied, suppressed his confusion, and went straight to the garage as ordered.

The morning passed quietly. That tiny moment of deviation was soon filed away in the mental drawer labeled “unimportant memories.”

Later that afternoon, during his routine tea delivery, An Ning asked—as he always did—what Yu Xiuming wanted for dinner and whether he planned to head home early.

Yu Xiuming requested the same custom meal as the day before. After confirming the order with the private restaurant, An Ning didn’t, as he usually did, request a matching meal for himself.

When he passed the president’s office later, the staff were having afternoon tea. Someone handed him a few pastries, which he carried back to his desk.

He hadn’t eaten them yet, but he figured—it was more than enough to count as dinner.

He wasn’t really in the habit of eating properly at every meal.

To him, dinner had never been a big deal — snacking a little here and there was a regular routine. All those bits and pieces added up to enough for one full meal anyway.

Sure, it wasn’t quite up to the standard of Yu Xiuming’s exclusive private restaurant, but his coworkers had decent taste, and their takeout choices were always good. An Ning filled his stomach quickly, drank some water, and felt a pleasant wave of laziness start to creep in.

Half-reclining in his leather chair, he squinted at the molten gold of the sunset spilling across the riverside view for a few minutes. Then, on a whim, he threw on his jacket and decided to take a little walk.

The Yu Sheng Group tower covered a wide area — one side faced a web of busy streets, and the other opened directly into the most bustling pedestrian district of the central business district.

The sun dipped low, and the breeze stirred ripples over the river’s surface.

An Ning wasn’t particularly cheerful.

After all, for anyone who’d been busy the entire day and still had to work overtime later, “leisure” wasn’t exactly in the emotional vocabulary. Still, a short walk might do some good. After looping around the block, he returned toward the Yu Sheng building — and nearly collided head-on with a little cat by the side of the tower.

It was a pretty black-and-white kitten, fluffy and plump, probably only a few months old. It darted out from the side and bumped straight into An Ning’s leg. Instead of running away, it rubbed against his dress pants affectionately.

Something tugged inside An Ning. The initial startle faded, replaced by a soft ache right in the gentlest part of his heart.

When he was in college, there had been plenty of cats around campus — friendly ones who were used to people. Students fed them and played with them all the time. It was peaceful, cozy.

An Ning had always liked cats. He used to work part-time at a convenience store on campus, and every night the manager would tell him to toss out the day’s unsold food. He’d pick out what was safe for cats and take it to the big banyan tree by the door to feed them.

This little black-and-white one wasn’t afraid of him either. It circled him, mewing in that soft, syrupy voice that felt like a feather brushing across his heart.

His expression relaxed. He crouched down, stretched out a hand, and gently rubbed the kitten’s head.

The soft fur melted against his palm. The kitten purred in delight and butted its little head against his hand.

An Ning’s heart turned to honey.

All the fatigue from the long day evaporated like mist in the wind. He stayed crouched there, happily playing with the kitten. After a few rounds of rubbing and circling, the kitten seemed to realize this human wasn’t offering food or treats, so it slowly backed away, meowed once more — as if to say goodbye — and trotted off.

An Ning stood up, still smiling faintly.

He waved. “If you come back tomorrow, I’ll bring you something to eat.”

Then, light-footed, he walked back toward the office building.

At that very moment, Yu Xiuming was holding the receiver of the office landline, staring blankly at the steady “beep beep beep” of an unanswered call.

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