AADWFL Chapter 2

After returning to his own office, An Ning didn’t rush into his next tasks. Instead, he took the opportunity to sort out his thoughts.

Sure enough, Yu Xiuming’s attitude toward him showed no sign that the original An Ning’s unrequited love could ever succeed.

He smiled faintly, unconcerned, pulled out a small sticky-note notebook, and under the previously written “Stage Goals,” he added a new line in black pen:

Ultimate Goal: Resign.

Before work this morning, An Ning had already checked the balance in his bank account. He was relieved to find that although the original had been foolish in love, he hadn’t actually let himself suffer financially all these years.

The salary was generous—an income level the college-student An Ning of the past could never have dreamed of. Though Yu Xiuming had never returned his feelings, he had never been stingy toward his trusted aide. Following him every day meant nearly all of An Ning’s living expenses were covered. Even his apartment was gifted by the boss. As a result, nearly all his salary had been saved.

An Ning did some quick math, considered the cost of living in Binzhou City, and drafted a financial plan. He wanted to ensure that after resigning, he could still afford to buy property and live comfortably through the transition to a new job.

At present, as long as nothing went wrong, he was steadily moving toward that goal.

Still, though he would eventually quit to escape his role as cannon fodder, during this interim he intended to work diligently and earn every cent of his salary.

—

That afternoon, Yu Xiuming had business at another company. An Ning prepared the car in advance for his boss’s trip, then went upstairs to carry the briefcase for him. Following Yu Xiuming down to the underground garage, he smoothly opened the car door, closed it, slipped into the driver’s seat, shut his own door, and started the engine in one seamless motion.

It wasn’t until the black Bentley glided steadily onto the road that he noticed the thin film of sweat forming at his fingertips.

The tasks all seemed simple enough, but carrying them out flawlessly, one after another, without a single mistake—executed smoothly and with perfect timing—was anything but easy. Especially as a personal assistant, where every detail had to ensure the boss’s utmost comfort. That truly demanded painstaking effort.

“What’s wrong?”

An Ning was focused on the road when Yu Xiuming suddenly spoke from the back seat, catching him completely off guard.

Seeing the confused look on the driver’s face, Yu Xiuming continued, “Are you feeling unwell today? You don’t look so good.”

“Ah… no, I’m fine.” An Ning quickly denied it, only then realizing how stiff his own expression was. He hurried to put on a polite smile. “It’s nothing, Mr. Yu. I just haven’t driven for a few days, so I’m a little out of practice. It’ll pass soon.”

Out of practice?

Yu Xiuming didn’t respond, but both of them knew that wasn’t exactly a convincing excuse.

They sometimes went on business trips abroad, and it wasn’t unusual for An Ning to go over a month without touching a steering wheel. Yet every time he came back, he was perfectly composed — not once had he been so tense that even his expression froze.

After a while, Yu Xiuming spoke again. “If you’re not feeling well, or if you’re tired, you can tell me. I’ll give you a few days off.”

“Really, it’s fine, Mr. Yu,” An Ning replied calmly, politely declining once more.

“As long as you’re fine. But if anything comes up, just let me know.” Yu Xiuming didn’t press further and leaned back again, closing his eyes to rest.

An Ning nodded. Seeing his boss close his eyes through the rearview mirror, he quietly adjusted the car’s temperature to the most comfortable setting, helping create the right atmosphere for a brief rest.

He couldn’t quite say why, but he had the feeling that Yu Xiuming’s attitude toward him was… different from what he had expected.

He thought all he needed to do was be a quiet background figure — diligent, professional, and discreet. But somehow, his boss seemed to pay more attention to his every move than he should.

Before An Ning could dwell on it any longer, forty minutes later, the Bentley smoothly pulled into another underground garage, and he went right back to his busy routine.

The two attended a business meeting held by a partner company. The fact that both Yu Xiuming and An Ning showed up together was already a great show of respect.

The meeting didn’t last long — about three hours — and afterward, their hosts warmly invited them to dinner. An Ning glanced at Yu Xiuming’s expression, then politely declined on their behalf, saying they already had plans that evening and would host next time instead.

By the time they left, the sky had already darkened. It was past six — later than most people’s quitting time — but out of habit, An Ning still drove toward the company.

Most of the lower floors had emptied out, but the 27th floor’s workday was far from over.

Their average finishing time was around seven or eight in the evening — two to three hours later than the building’s other employees. During peak times, pulling all-nighters wasn’t unusual.

“No rush. Let’s grab some dinner first.”

Just as they were about to turn toward the company, Yu Xiuming spoke up.

“What would you like to eat today, Mr. Yu?” An Ning hesitated, then asked respectfully.

Normally, he would drive Yu Xiuming straight back to the office, where their dinner — prepared by a private kitchen they regularly used — would be delivered. The menu changed daily, carefully designed according to the recommendations of a professional chef and nutritionist. If there were any special requests or if Yu wanted a change of flavor, An Ning would personally contact the kitchen to arrange it.

“There are plenty of restaurants in the nearby mall,” Yu said casually. “We can just pick one. What do you think?”

The headquarters of Yu Sheng Group was located in the most prosperous area of Binzhou’s central business district, surrounded by massive shopping centers and endless dining options. Many white-collar workers in the area usually chose to eat in those mall restaurants — not exactly cheap, but definitely convenient.

When An Ning had first familiarized himself with the area after transmigrating into this world, he’d thought that if he weren’t Yu Xiuming’s personal assistant — if the original An Ning hadn’t followed his boss everywhere out of a secret crush — he might’ve been just another office worker grabbing dinner at one of those mall eateries.

Only… those mall restaurants were far too low-end for someone like Yu Xiuming.

For An Ning, though, it was the exact opposite.

Growing up in an orphanage, he’d had a fulfilling childhood but hardly a luxurious one. During university, he’d supported himself through part-time jobs and scholarships, barely spending money on anything beyond necessities. The upscale business district malls had always felt like distant, untouchable worlds to him — much less the idea of dining in one of their fancy restaurants.

So when Yu Xiuming brought it up in that calm, almost consultative tone, An Ning couldn’t quite figure out what was going on.

According to the original An Ning’s memories, his boss wasn’t a difficult man to serve. Despite his meticulous habits — some of which bordered on strict — most of his demands were directed at himself rather than those around him. For his assistants, Yu Xiuming was considered easygoing and unpretentious. As long as one understood his routines and paid attention to detail, the job was relatively simple.

But “unpretentious” didn’t necessarily mean that someone raised amid wealth and refinement could truly accept eating dinner in a noisy, crowded mall restaurant.

“There are plenty of dishes available in the mall restaurants,” An Ning said after a brief pause, deciding to follow instructions and list the facts. “I’ll check the specific menus right away and help you pick one — it’s just that, the places aren’t very high-end. Most only have open dining halls, no private rooms or booths. And since it’s the dinner rush, it might be quite crowded.”

“That’s fine,” Yu Xiuming replied, clearly set on trying an ordinary person’s dinner for once. “As for the food — you decide. Pick whatever you like. The seating doesn’t matter — though if possible, make it decent. We’re not representing the company tonight, so there’s no need to be formal.”

Let him choose?

An Ning froze for a moment. Of course, he wasn’t foolish enough to actually pick his favorite dishes. Instead, his mind began sorting through Yu Xiuming’s usual preferences.

But the more he thought, the more he realized — despite being meticulous about quality, Yu Xiuming didn’t seem to have any particular taste or cravings.

Cantonese? Anhui? Sichuan? Western cuisine?

Yu Xiuming had eaten them all — yet had never shown a strong preference for any. Even his daily private chef meals were based on balanced nutrition, perfect in color, aroma, and taste — but without a single personal indulgence to reveal.

Left with no better idea, An Ning parked the car, pulled out his phone, and chose a Sichuan restaurant with a high rating and a relatively classy atmosphere.

Among the few options, he remembered that when nothing else was an issue, Yu Xiuming tended to enjoy mildly spicy food. So — Sichuan cuisine might suit him best.

“Would this one be all right, Mr. Yu?” An Ning turned his phone toward him, showing the page for Sichuan No. 1, carefully scrolling the cheaper combo meals out of sight before presenting it.

“Looks good. Let’s go with that,” Yu Xiuming said pleasantly after just a glance. “Come on, let’s go upstairs.”

Even as they followed the flow of people up the crowded escalators toward the fourth-floor dining area, An Ning couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

Was he hallucinating from exhaustion on his first day of work?

He searched through the original host’s memories, hoping to find an explanation for why Yu Xiuming was acting so out of character today.

No luck.

Fortunately, they managed to get one of the few semi-private booths, separated by partitions — enough to keep them from being squashed into the noisy main hall.

“You order,” Yu said, pushing the menu toward him. “Just pick what you like.”

The screens around them blocked sightlines — but not sound.

“You order what you like. I’ll pay,” came a man’s voice from the next booth, making An Ning’s fingers twitch slightly as he reached for the menu.

When they’d walked in, he’d already noticed.

Evening diners in mall restaurants weren’t just tired white-collar workers — there were also young couples, enjoying dinner dates after work.

Unfortunately, seated right outside their booth was one such couple — a man and a woman — their voices unmistakably intimate.

Awkward. So awkward.

An Ning couldn’t help coughing softly to break the tension, then quickly turned the menu around and lowered his head to make his selections, pencil in hand.

Instinctively, he ordered dishes he thought Yu Xiuming would like — mostly spicy ones.

When the table filled with fiery red dishes, An Ning took one bite and immediately realized he had just trapped himself.

He couldn’t eat spicy food at all.

And only now did he notice — somehow, he hadn’t inherited the original body’s taste buds. His own palate from his previous life had carried over instead.

This table full of authentic Sichuan dishes — forget eating them with a straight face, even swallowing a few bites felt like torture.

“What’s wrong?” Yu Xiuming, sitting opposite, instantly noticed the change in his expression. He paused mid-bite, quickly putting the pieces together. “Don’t tell me… you can’t eat spicy food?”

An Ning couldn’t even reply immediately — his face was flushed bright red from the heat. He scrambled up, grabbed his cup, and hurried to the water dispenser outside the booth to fill it with cold water. After downing a full glass, the burning on his tongue finally subsided a little.

“Mr. Yu, I…” An Ning began haltingly, staring at the sea of red dishes before finally deciding to tell the truth. “I’m… not very good with spicy food.”

Without a word, Yu Xiuming stood up.

Even though An Ning had just gulped down cold water, he still felt unbearably awkward, not daring to lift his gaze. A moment later, he heard footsteps returning — and then a second glass was placed in front of him.

“Drink some more. I’ll order a few new dishes for you.”

The usual imposing authority in his voice softened into something calm and almost gentle.

For a moment, An Ning felt as if he’d been enchanted.

Mature, confident, and — when he chose to be — impossibly kind.

He suddenly began to understand why the original An Ning had fallen hopelessly in love with Yu Xiuming.

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