AADWFL Chapter 9

An Ning had waited for the private restaurant’s delivery guy to bring the food, personally delivered it to Yu Xiuming’s office, and then left the company for his little walk.

Normally, at this hour, there wouldn’t be any tasks urgent enough to require him, so An Ning hadn’t thought it necessary to report every move to his boss.

Besides, if something important came up, Yu Xiuming could always call. An Ning’s phone was fully charged, the ringer on, and even his WeChat work group notifications were unmuted.

Yu Xiuming didn’t actually have any urgent business. So, after setting the receiver down, he thought for a while but decided not to call An Ning’s mobile.

Maybe An Ning had just gone to the restroom and hadn’t heard the office phone ringing.

Convincing himself of that, Yu Xiuming turned back to the news on his computer screen.

This was usually his brief “post-dinner relaxation period” — though in truth, scrolling through financial and current affairs websites wasn’t exactly relaxing.

An Ning, having worked with him long enough, wouldn’t call it that either.

Though always diligent, An Ning sometimes remembered his university days — the freedom, the promise he’d once made to himself never to take a job like this, serving a boss with exacting habits.

Yu Xiuming’s eyes soon began to sting from staring at the screen too long. He pulled open the drawer, took out his eyedrops, applied a few, then glanced impatiently at the digital clock on the bottom corner of the monitor.

Three minutes had passed.

If An Ning had just gone to the restroom, he should’ve been back by now.

He frowned slightly. Maybe he should check again. He picked up the receiver and dialed the office line once more.

“Beep, beep, beep.”

That empty tone rang in his ear, almost mocking.

Yu Xiuming froze, disbelief flickering across his face.

An Ning — no answer, twice?

Those words, individually, were harmless. But put together, they sounded wrong. Like a sentence that just didn’t make sense.

Before he even realized it, he’d already stood up, one hand grabbing his suit jacket from the coat rack. He’d taken two steps toward the door when a wave of clarity hit him.

What was he doing?

That undeniable truth pressed up from somewhere deep inside him — the sharp sting of worry and a strange, restless anxiety that he couldn’t quite name.

Worry? About what? An Ning was a grown man with five or six years of experience, perfectly capable of taking care of himself. He’d only been out of the office for ten minutes. Was Yu Xiuming really acting like the man had gone missing?

He sat back down and took a sip of tea.

It was a little cold, but soothing.

The news on the monitor now looked even more tedious than before. With a sigh, Yu Xiuming turned off the screen, locked it, and dimmed the office lights — leaving only a single lamp near the door for minimal illumination.

Then he leaned back in his adjustable leather chair, closed his eyes, and tried to rest.

He was, by nature, someone who could endure stillness — calm to the core. That very composure was what had brought him this far. Even in his earliest years in the industry, the old veterans had been startled by how unnaturally steady this young man could be.

He could sit for hours reading, or spend an entire day poring over dry, lifeless reports — without losing focus once.

So, for Yu Xiuming, quietly closing his eyes to rest was an easy task.

But alas, heaven rarely cooperates with man’s plans—just as he’d made up his mind to take a short break, someone knocked on his office door.

There was only one person who ever knocked on this door—An Ning.

Delivering and receiving instructions was An Ning’s duty. He was the executive who reported directly to Yu Xiuming; and as Yu Xiuming’s most trusted right-hand man, whenever there were deeper, murkier matters to handle, he was the one who entered this office to discuss and strategize with his boss.

In short, every business that required entering this office was An Ning’s domain.

So the moment Yu Xiuming heard the knock—since there was no special announcement from outside—he immediately knew who it was.

He should have opened his eyes and adjusted the chair back to a proper sitting position before saying “come in.” After all, that whole maneuver would’ve taken barely a second, not enough for the person outside to notice any delay.

However, muscle memory won out—by the time Yu Xiuming heard himself say “Come in,” his eyes were still closed.

So when An Ning walked in with a polite smile, his expression instantly froze.

“President Yu, were you resting?”

An Ning stood frozen, caught between advancing and retreating, bowing slightly in apology. “I’m sorry, I just saw a missed call from five minutes ago and wanted to ask if you had any instructions… You were resting, I’ll go back first. If you need anything—”

“No.” Yu Xiuming immediately regretted letting him in so soon. He straightened the chair and opened his eyes, sitting upright as he explained, “Just put in eye drops. I wasn’t resting.”

An Ning let out a breath of relief and continued forward—but the unusual lighting in the room caught his attention.

The entire office had been designed for its owner’s comfort. Beside Yu Xiuming’s desk were multiple adjustable fill lights, all controlled by a smart system right on his desk. When he wanted to rest, he could turn off all but a few lamps with a touch, leaving only a dim light near the door far enough not to disturb his brief naps.

However, Yu Xiuming was known to be a workaholic. In all the years An Ning had worked beside him, he could count on one hand the times he’d seen his boss nap in the office.

And even if he was resting, whenever he called An Ning in, it was always for work—Yu Xiuming would already be composed and ready, never as relaxed as he appeared today.

So this was the first time An Ning had ever seen such a dimly lit scene inside his boss’s office.

The lighting was soft and shadowed; under that strange contrast, a beam of light outlined Yu Xiuming’s chiseled features, adding a touch of languid allure to his face.

An Ning only looked for a single second before Yu Xiuming turned all the lights back on.

Startled, An Ning saw him lower his head slightly and quickly put his silver-rimmed glasses back on.

It had to be said—Yu Xiuming looked good in any form.

He exuded a blend of mature masculinity and elite refinement, his features striking and well-defined.

Stop—

Meeting the faint glint of light reflected off Yu Xiuming’s glasses, An Ning realized his thoughts were straying and forcibly reined them back in.

“President Yu, about the phone call earlier—what instructions did you have?”

“Oh, right.” Yu Xiuming’s expression shifted—just slightly unnatural. “It’s Yu Linshan’s birthday. I’ll have to go home for dinner. You’ll come with me. This Saturday—it counts as overtime. You’ll get the bonus and overtime pay accordingly.”

The words bonus and overtime pay were enough to briefly scatter An Ning’s focus, though he didn’t show it. He quickly nodded in acknowledgment.

“Understood, President Yu. If there’s anything extra you’d like prepared, please let me know, and I’ll take care of it in advance.”

“No need. Just follow the usual standard, same as before. Don’t bother putting in extra effort.” Yu Xiuming’s tone was stiff.

An Ning didn’t feel like joking anymore. He simply nodded. “I understand.”

He stood there for a moment longer. Seeing that Yu Xiuming had nothing more to add, he said, “If there’s nothing else, President Yu, I’ll head back to my office.”

Yu Xiuming nodded. “Don’t stay too late today—go home in about an hour.”

“Alright.” An Ning took the order and turned to leave.

—

Recalling memories had become an easy habit for An Ning after spending more than a month inside this book’s world.

He carefully went over everything, listing out the gifts he had prepared in past years when accompanying Yu Xiuming to the Yu family mansion for Yu Linshan’s birthday. Then he called the relevant contacts to place the same orders and arranged to personally pick them up the following day or the day after.

After that, An Ning began reviewing every memory he had of that man—

Yu Linshan, Yu Xiuming’s father.

But it wasn’t really surprising that An Ning had never accessed any memories related to that man until now—after all, this father and son were practically strangers.
Aside from these ritual family dinners where appearance demanded Yu Xiuming’s return home, they had no contact whatsoever.

In wealthy families, it seemed that there was always some tangled, unaccountable ledger between parents and children.

Yu Linshan and Xu Jianan’s marriage had been a business alliance that benefited both families handsomely, but their union itself had ended in shambles.

A year after their wedding, Xu Jianan gave birth to Yu Xiuming—their only son. Not long after, the two, who had never truly gotten along, began living separately. Each had their own business empire, and they rarely saw each other throughout the year.

They both had lovers, and as long as these affairs didn’t publicly tarnish the façade of their marriage, neither cared what the other did. Over the years, whenever Xu Jianan showed a hint of concern, it was usually to find out how many illegitimate children Yu Linshan had fathered—worried they might threaten her son’s inheritance.

Fortunately for her, Yu Linshan’s illegitimate children were all, in one way or another, unremarkable—none posed a real threat, and most stayed quiet. Xu Jianan herself never had more children, and her contact with Yu Xiuming was limited to an occasional phone call, just enough to maintain the formal appearance of a mother-son bond.

Their relationships—as father and son, husband and wife—had long since frozen over. For Yu Xiuming, this was nothing new. He had grown up in the cold.

Or perhaps it was more accurate to say: there had never been a drop to freezing point, because they had always been there—frozen from the start, never warmed.

Still, as a prominent family, regardless of how broken their relationships were, no matter how many illegitimate children Yu Linshan had hidden away, every year during festivals and birthdays they would symbolically gather at the family mansion for a meal.

The rest of the time, that luxurious villa was occupied only by Tao Kang, the housekeeper.

The standard configuration of a rich family in a novel, An Ning thought wryly, sighing.

Now it was time for him, the dutiful assistant, to handle his boss’s chaotic family affairs.

—

Out of caution, after personally purchasing the usual gifts, An Ning decided to call Tao Kang to ask if there was anything special to note this year.

Such occasions, according to memory, were the ones where a single misstep in etiquette could cause disaster—it was better to double-check.

On the other end, Tao Kang listed the expensive gifts already prepared, like reading from a shopping list, before adding, “In theory, it’s the same as every year. But you should tell Mr. Xiuming to ask if he’s heard about Yu Qi lately.”

An Ning froze for a moment. “Yu Qi?”

There it was again—Yu Qi.

It seemed that the power struggles among the wealthy heirs would indeed play a major, dramatic role in this story.

In the original novel, he was the one who opened the floodgates to the Yu family’s messy internal drama.

And if he was appearing again now…

There was no need to guess—it had to do with inheritance and wealth.