AADWFL Chapter 18

If this had been a simple business trip, it wouldn’t have required so much fuss.

The reason was simple—though Yu Xiuming had grown up with refined habits, he wasn’t actually fussy. His clothing style was elegant but practical: one business suit per day, all from a fixed luxury brand, tailored regularly, requiring no extra thought. For purely professional travel, An Ning just needed to pack the usual suits neatly into the luggage compartment reserved for them—simple, efficient, and done.

But this trip to Lunzhou wasn’t entirely business.

They would arrive Monday and attend a mandatory meeting Tuesday. After that, however, there would be a gap in the schedule.
Coincidentally, Jing Yan—a mutual acquaintance—was currently in Lunzhou as well. Upon hearing that Yu Xiuming would be there, he insisted on arranging a gathering with other friends.

Rich people’s social events were always a headache.
Even though Yu Xiuming himself didn’t care much, proper etiquette was still expected. Showing up in his work attire would be out of the question.
And so—this part of the trip fell to An Ning: the wardrobe curation.

“This one’s fine,” Tao Kang said, nodding approvingly at one of the outfits An Ning had picked. Then, watching him compare it with another, he couldn’t help but chuckle. “Honestly, between those two, he probably wouldn’t even notice the difference.”

That wasn’t wrong—but lately, An Ning had been receiving so many bonuses that he was full of motivation.
And really, it didn’t cost much effort to look over a few extra outfits. He was happy to do it.

Money may not buy happiness, but it sure greases the wheels.

Given how generously his boss paid him, doing these small, detail-oriented things felt almost joyful.

“The white set is a new release from brand H this year—flashier, better suited for social events. But I don’t think President Yu will like it,” An Ning mused. “I showed it to him when it first arrived; he didn’t express any interest, so the darker one is the safer choice.”

Tao Kang nodded, impressed. “Then we’ll go with what you say. No one knows your boss better than you.”

An Ning felt a flicker of discomfort at that—but he couldn’t quite pinpoint why.

“Xiao Ning, have you been busy at work lately?”

As they neared the end of packing, Tao Kang watched him fuss with the last few details before suddenly asking.

“It’s fine,” An Ning replied without looking up. “Everything’s the same as usual—nothing unusually busy.”

The same as usual—which meant still busy as hell, of course.

Tao Kang thought for a moment. “If you ever feel too tired, just tell Xiuming directly. He wouldn’t let you overwork yourself.”

An Ning blinked, confused by the implication. “Don’t worry, Uncle Kang. I can handle everything just fine—and President Yu doesn’t overwork me.”

“That’s good.”

An Ning tilted his head, still puzzled. “Really, you don’t need to worry. I take care of President Yu—I’d never let him exhaust himself.”

Tao Kang hesitated, realizing An Ning completely missed his point, but chose to drop it with a sigh.

The elder’s well-meaning concern ended there.
An Ning finished packing, neatly organizing several large suitcases to perfection.

---

The next day, Yu Xiuming’s private jet departed from the nearest airfield to Jialin Garden.

He didn’t use his private plane often—aside from overseas trips, he usually flew commercial for domestic travel, with An Ning booking business class seats.

This time was an exception.

Ever since the night An Ning (before transmigrating) had accidentally drunk the drugged wine at a banquet, Yu Xiuming’s sense of caution had sharply increased. After some thought, he filed a flight request and decided to use his private aircraft.

It was An Ning’s first time boarding Yu Xiuming’s private jet.
He followed the flight attendants up the steps, pulling several suitcases behind him, and handed them over to the crew once inside. Outwardly calm, inwardly, his curiosity was impossible to hide.

The cabin wasn’t dramatically different from a commercial plane, but the interior was understated and luxurious, with comfort levels far exceeding business class.

Not long after takeoff, the flight attendant brought over coffee, placing a cup before both Yu Xiuming and An Ning.

Yu Xiuming had immediately settled into his usual single-seat spot after boarding.

Normally, An Ning knew, his boss would use flight time to continue working. He reached for the laptop to prepare it—but this time, Yu Xiuming didn’t seem inclined to do any work.

The man looked visibly tired, and after sitting down, simply leaned his head back against the soft seat cushion.

An Ning fell silent instantly.
He didn’t even ask, “Would you like to rest?”—he just quietly closed the laptop, rose to his feet, and dimmed the cabin lights by a few degrees.

In truth, the flight attendant would soon return after serving the coffee, bringing in a crystal plate of freshly cut fruit. She would probably also ask if they wanted anything else to eat, and at that point, she would likely dim the cabin lights herself.

But An Ning had always been proactive and meticulous—he never waited for others to take care of such things.

The carpet beneath his feet was thick and soft, muffling the sound of his leather shoes, yet he still took care to step lightly, afraid even the faintest sound might disturb the rare moment of rest Yu Xiuming managed to find.

Yu Xiuming was reclining on the sofa with his eyes closed, resting. The elegant line of his nose was sharp under the dim cabin light, half his face cast in soft shadow. His lips, naturally curved and healthily tinted, bore at the corner an almost invisible crack if one looked closely.

An Ning’s gaze flickered—his memory unspooled.

The night before, at Jialin Garden, they had worked overtime together, and he’d been forced to overhear Yu Xiuming’s phone call with Xu Jianan.

What began as cold civility had quickly escalated into an argument. By the end, Yu Xiuming’s voice had returned to its usual calm, but his expression had grown colder and colder—until ashes from a cigarette scattered across the carpet.

He was a self-disciplined man, one who never smoked. Even then, he hadn’t actually smoked that cigarette—just lit it while on the call, holding it loosely between his fingers, eyes fixed on the glowing ember, watching the ash fall piece by piece onto the expensive carpet.

An Ning had watched from nearby, feeling an inexplicable pang of sympathy.

When he saw the dark circles under Yu Xiuming’s eyes the next morning, he knew at once that the man hadn’t slept well.

Now, a flight attendant in uniform entered the cabin, carrying the crystal fruit plate. Seeing that the lights were dimmed, she instinctively fell silent.

An Ning gestured for her to set the plate down, then quietly led her a few steps away from Yu Xiuming’s seat. In a soft whisper, he said, “Thank you. Please bring a blanket for President Yu.”

“Would you like one as well, Mr. An?” the attendant mouthed silently, matching his low tone with professional ease.

Normally, flight attendants were the ones who handled everything aboard an aircraft. But on this private jet, she’d long since realized that Mr. An was no mere assistant—he was the one truly in charge.

“No need. I’ll ask if I do. Just bring one for President Yu first,” An Ning said with a polite smile.

The flight attendant nodded, turned to fetch a blanket, and returned shortly.

It was a soft, lightweight wool blanket—warm yet breathable. An Ning took it from her, unfolding it gently in the air.

The man reclining on the leather sofa stirred slightly, instinctively cooperating as An Ning leaned down to cover him.

Muscle memory worked faster than conscious thought; the wool brushed lightly against his waist, separated only by the thin layer of his dress shirt, before settling neatly over the upper half of his trousers.

An Ning—or at least, the An Ning armed with all the memories in his mind—knew every one of Yu Xiuming’s habits. He knew exactly how to help him rest comfortably.

Once the blanket was arranged, Yu Xiuming shifted, turning slightly onto his side, one arm resting against his forehead as he lay along the wide sofa. An Ning glanced once, saw that he seemed at ease, and quietly returned to his own seat.

He packed away the laptop and, not feeling sleepy, turned his gaze to the fruit plate the flight attendant had brought. Not wanting to waste it, he picked up the crystal fork, speared a piece, and slowly ate it.

The sweet fragrance of peach bloomed across his tongue and nose. His mind wandered freely for once, thoughts drifting aimlessly.

He found himself puzzled. Why were Yu Xiuming’s relations with his parents so cold—and why was Xu Jianan, his mother, suddenly so intent on arranging marriage alliances for him?

She herself had suffered through a loveless arranged marriage. Her son clearly had no interest in such things. And Xu Jianan didn’t seem like the kind of mother who meddled unnecessarily—nor one who would deliberately worsen her already distant relationship with her son. So why was she doing it?

Every time Yu Xiuming received a call from her, his expression screamed exhaustion and irritation.
An Ning had even guessed, at one point, that the real reason Yu Xiuming agreed to take time off and accept Jing Yan’s invitation to Lunzhou was simply that he was worn out—emotionally, mentally, and physically—and wanted to escape both the workload and his mother’s relentless matchmaking.

Countless thoughts drifted through his mind like waves washing over sand, leaving everything damp and smooth before slowly receding.

His eyes felt faintly sore. He closed them for a moment, then picked up a piece of kiwi with his fork and slipped it into his mouth.

The chilled fruit melted sweetly across his tongue; he loved the taste. He reached for another piece—but before he could swallow it, a low, resonant voice spoke beside his ear.

“An Ning.”

Yu Xiuming’s voice was deep and quiet, heavy with fatigue.

“President Yu, you’re awake?” An Ning responded quickly, glancing around. “Would you like me to turn off the rest of the lights?”

Yu Xiuming straightened his back a little; the blanket slid slightly down his torso. An Ning moved instinctively to fix it, but Yu Xiuming stopped him with a small gesture.

Instead, he adjusted the edge of the blanket himself, pulling it into a comfortable position, and then said softly,

“An Ning, if you’re tired, you should get some rest too.”

The deep, magnetic voice lingered near An Ning’s ear, like a slow-working poison—so subtle that one barely noticed how utterly meaningless those words actually were in that moment.

And yet, without thinking, An Ning simply nodded. “Okay.”

—

The journey to Lenzhou took barely three hours by private jet.

Yu Xiuming truly was exhausted. After instructing An Ning, he’d fallen asleep beneath the blanket, not touching even half a sip of his coffee. Still, no one ever slept soundly on a plane; so when the flight attendant quietly informed An Ning that they would soon be landing, Yu Xiuming’s eyes fluttered open.

An Ning rose from his leather seat. Seeing that Yu Xiuming was still half-asleep, he stepped closer, bent down slightly, and whispered, “President Yu, we’re almost there.”

The soft, measured voice brushed against Yu Xiuming’s ear, gentle as the sound of falling rain. Still hazy with sleep, he found it oddly soothing.

He opened his eyes, straightened his back, and lifted his hands to smooth the collar of his shirt.

An Ning, ever attentive, leaned forward again to lift the blanket that had slipped askew around Yu Xiuming’s waist. Once he was sure his boss no longer needed it, he swiftly turned and handed it back to the flight attendant.

They were about to disembark, and according to Yu Xiuming’s usual habits, he would want to change clothes before stepping off the plane.