AADWFL Chapter 35

After work, the first thing An Ning did was take Yu Xiuming’s tea-stained shirt and call Tao Kang that evening.

An Ning didn’t personally handle clothing care; that was always left to the house steward, Tao Kang.

“What happened, spilled tea?” Tao sounded surprised.

“It was my fault,” An Ning admitted apologetically. “Luckily, the tea wasn’t too hot—if it had burned President Yu, that would’ve been terrible.”

“It’s fine,” Tao reassured, hearing the guilt in his voice. “But the shirt’s probably done for. That kind of fabric warps after washing… I’ll come by later this week and take it to get checked. If it can’t be cleaned, don’t worry about it—Yu won’t be angry over a shirt.”

“President Yu wasn’t angry,” An Ning said quickly, even more guilty at the thought of shifting blame. “It was just my carelessness.”

His tone was so contrite that Tao actually grew puzzled, assuming Yu Xiuming must’ve been displeased. He tried to comfort An Ning a few more times over the phone.

But in truth, what weighed on An Ning’s mind wasn’t just the ruined shirt.

Somewhere beneath all that guilt, he suddenly realized—he had begun to covet something far beyond what he should.

That weekend, An Ning decided quickly and cleanly — living by the creed “if it feels right at first sight, it’s the best choice.”
Among the few apartments that had made it to the final round, he chose the one that had caught his eye first. After the usual back-and-forth bargaining, he signed the contract without hesitation.

The apartment he chose was the very first one he’d visited — the best in both hardware and atmosphere.
After some effort, the price came down a little — only 150,000 yuan above his original budget — an amount he could easily pay in full. Considering the actual conditions of the place, it was already a very cost-effective choice.

Once the contract was signed, the move-in date was quickly settled with the owner.

The owner also worked in Binzhou — a busy office worker like him. After learning that someone had finally taken interest in the property, they exchanged a few symbolic rounds of bargaining through the agent, and both sides were refreshingly straightforward.

Since the owner also needed to work around their job schedule, they agreed to set the handover on the weekend — a plan that suited An Ning perfectly.

“Congratulations, Mr. An.” The agent, having closed the deal smoothly and secured his commission, was all smiles as he shook An Ning’s hand inside the new apartment.

“You’ve worked hard too,” An Ning nodded with a polite smile. “You showed me so many places — who’d have thought I’d end up choosing the very first one? Had I known, we could’ve saved the trouble.”

The agent, already content with the commission, didn’t mind in the slightest whether it was the first or last unit An Ning chose. He grinned widely and said, “You know what that means, right? Fate. The house you liked at first sight is bound to bring you happiness and harmony in your home life.”

When it came to saying the right auspicious things, An Ning could never compete with a real estate agent. He smiled and thanked him sincerely for the blessing.

The handover was in the morning, just before lunchtime — too early to share a meal, and likely their last meeting for the foreseeable future. For convenience, An Ning had driven over in his own Mercedes sedan.

As they were parting ways, the agent glanced at An Ning’s car with a hint of admiration.
“Mr. An, you’re really accomplished for your age — you’ve already got both a car and a house, and both top-notch ones at that. Your job must be going well, huh?”

It was the kind of small talk people make in passing, and since they’d gotten along well during the apartment viewings, there was no reason to dodge the question.

An Ning answered modestly, “It’s alright… just busy most days. I work at a company, same as everyone else.”

The agent chuckled. “Working at a big company isn’t quite the same as the rest of us. Anyway, whoever ends up dating or marrying you is going to have a very comfortable life here in Binzhou.”

Dating? Marriage?

An Ning’s mind flickered, but he kept his expression composed, replying with a polite smile, “Who can say what’ll happen in the future? I wish you success at work too.”

He soon got in his car and drove off, the agent departing in his own vehicle as they waved goodbye.

After receiving the keys and completing the property registration, An Ning felt the heavy stone in his chest finally drop.

What followed was a natural rush of joy — a buoyant, floating feeling that refused to settle.

The agent’s words, that small flicker of admiration, made him look at himself from a new, objective angle for the first time — and he suddenly realized: maybe he really was a “young and promising” man after all.

A faint smile crept over his lips.
Driving home, he was already planning what to add or remove from the new apartment — lost in thought to the point that he barely noticed how quickly the trip passed, until he was pulling into the underground garage.

He went upstairs light as air, his steps effortless, every movement flowing like clouds and water — even his hair seemed to sway with quiet joy.

After unlocking the door with his fingerprint and changing his shoes at the entrance, his phone suddenly rang.

The abrupt ringtone cut through his floating excitement, cooling him down in an instant.

Before even checking the screen, at least four or five possibilities flashed through his mind —
Did the agent need him to sign another agreement?
Did the seller forget some paperwork?

But no — none of that.

The caller ID read: Yu Xiuming.

On a proper rest day, Yu Xiuming rarely called him — unless something urgent had happened at the company.

“President Yu?”

An Ning’s polite but slightly puzzled voice echoed softly through his foyer.

“At home?”

On the other end, Yu Xiuming’s voice was calm, unhurried, as though he had all the time in the world. Only after confirming An Ning had picked up did he start talking — casually, like small talk.

“I’m here,” An Ning replied — though he’d only just arrived home moments ago.

Maybe it was because of all the secrecy surrounding the apartment purchase — the endless little lies he’d already told his boss. Now, even if this wasn’t a situation where he was caught red-handed, telling a small white lie barely made his heart skip anymore.

“Are you free tonight?”

An Ning froze for a moment. He hadn’t expected Yu Xiuming to invite him out on a weekend evening for a social engagement. Fortunately, he’d finished all the paperwork for his new apartment that morning, so he quickly said, “I’m free.”

“Let’s head out together at five-thirty,” Yu Xiuming said lightly. “We’ll take my car—going to Binjiang Avenue.”

“Are we… going out for dinner?”

Binjiang Avenue was built along the riverside, lined with upscale restaurants and large banquet halls. An Ning couldn’t quite tell whether the evening’s event was a formal banquet or a private dinner.

His thoughts wandered for a moment, and—quite inappropriately—he remembered that one of the top-floor revolving restaurants there was famous as a lovers’ sanctuary.

Elegant, atmospheric. Countless Binzhou elites had chosen it as the perfect spot to propose, under the night sky and river lights.

“I’m treating you to dinner,” Yu Xiuming said offhandedly, as if it were the simplest, most obvious thing in the world—but the words made An Ning question his own hearing.

“President Yu, you… what do you mean by that?” An Ning asked cautiously, nerves tightening.

Even through the phone, he could sense something unusual in the man’s breathing—a subtle undertone, intimate and warm.

Ambiguous. Tangled. Burning.

Yet elusive, impossible to grasp.

Amid the confusion, Yu Xiuming spoke again, his tone even.

“It was Xu Jianan who made the reservation,” he said calmly, as though talking about someone else’s story. “Didn’t she assume that Yi Mingwei and I have been spending time together lately? She’s always making these decisions on her own.”

He paused briefly, sounding almost helpless, his words coming a little faster now. “Since she booked the place, the restaurant will call her if no one shows up… But I’ve already explained things to Yi Mingwei—she won’t be going. So I thought, maybe the two of us could go instead. How about that?”

For a second, An Ning’s heartbeat lagged behind.

But soon enough, everything returned to normal.

“Understood, President Yu,” he heard himself say calmly. “I’ll bring the car around at five-thirty.”

“Good.”

The man on the other end seemed pleased, though since An Ning couldn’t see his expression, he could only guess at the emotion behind the tone—and wasn’t sure if he was right.

After hanging up, he went back inside and sat down, his thoughts tangled and heavy, finally settling on two points.

One: his long quest to buy a home had finally succeeded.
Two: Yu Xiuming had originally planned to have dinner with Yi Mingwei that night.

An Ning knew all the details of their business arrangement—he had been the one handling everything from start to finish. Though both Yu Xiuming and Yi Mingwei had been in Binzhou lately, they had never actually met in person.

Still, something about it made him uneasy.

The faint thrill he’d felt when Yu Xiuming first invited him to dinner had completely vanished, replaced by a dull ache of disappointment he couldn’t shake off.

Xu Jianan was Yu Xiuming’s mother.

In An Ning’s eyes, though Yu Xiuming’s relationships with both his parents were strained, his bond with his mother was at least marginally closer.

She wasn’t the tender, understanding kind of mother—but despite the constant arguments, despite the way every phone call seemed to drive him to light a cigarette and cool his temper, there was still an unspoken understanding between them.

And suddenly, An Ning wondered—what if Yu Xiuming told Xu Jianan that he didn’t like Yi Mingwei, didn’t like women at all… but liked men? That he wanted to be with a man instead?

No. Impossible.

The moment the thought crossed his mind, he immediately sentenced it to death.

Even chaos shouldn’t spiral this far.

The gap between them was too wide—and one of them was far too prone to wishful thinking.

No wonder even the original author of the novel had decided such a daring, impossible love deserved the death penalty—an absolute and final one.

Ever since An Ning had transmigrated into the novel, he’d developed a habit: whenever work or fleeting happiness made him forget why he’d wanted to quit his job in the first place, he would force himself to remember the tragic ending he still hadn’t escaped.

Lately, that thought had been surfacing more often.

He picked up his phone, set an alarm for five o’clock, then grabbed a throw pillow from the couch and lay down, still in his clothes, sinking into the soft cushions.

He was tired—and he needed a little rest before facing the dinner ahead.