Iceberg's Deep Love - Chapter 20

The rooftop pool at the hotel was enclosed in a massive glass structure, offering unobstructed views of the azure sky, fluffy white clouds, and the vast ocean beyond.

 

Though autumn had arrived, bringing a slight chill to the air, the pool maintained a constant temperature, ensuring a comfortable warmth. Even the autumnal weather couldn’t dampen the joy of vacationing.

 

Gu Jihuan lay draped in a bath towel, half-reclined on a lounge chair. The setting sun cast a fiery glow across the ocean, its shimmering surface reflecting the crimson hues.

 

“Miss Gu, your package has just arrived,” a hotel attendant approached, carrying a small storage box. With no shipping label, it had clearly been delivered directly to the front desk.

 

Lu Shinian had booked top-tier services at the hotel. After calling Gu Jihuan and learning she was on the rooftop, he had someone bring it up immediately.

 

Gu Jihuan casually accepted the box, glanced inside, and frowned slightly. She closed the lid with a flick of her wrist. “Take it away and throw it out.”

 

“Miss Gu, this…” The attendant hesitated. Though the guest had instructed them to discard it, they couldn’t simply throw it away. If she changed her mind later, it would create a difficult situation.

 

Gu Jihuan understood the server’s dilemma and said, “Never mind, just leave it here.”

 

“Very well. Enjoy your stay,” the server replied, placing the storage box down before retreating.

 

The box had been sent by Yan Yu. Inside were small gifts they had exchanged during their time together—perfumes, jewelry, and other trinkets.

 

Gu Jihuan could almost guess what had happened: Lu Jingqing must have thrown a tantrum yesterday, and Yan Yu, trying to appease her girlfriend, had staged this dramatic gesture of severing ties.

 

What should have been a relaxing two-day getaway had been ruined by this unexpected encounter.

 

Gu Jihuan casually tossed aside her towel and slipped into the pool. The boundless water surged around her, instantly isolating her from the surrounding sounds, as if she had entered another world.

 

Fragments of memories and images flashed through her mind, then shattered into the swirling water. Gu Jihuan had never been an emotional creature. By the time she resurfaced, the memories had already been pushed aside.

 

She spotted Gu Jihuan sitting by the pool’s edge. He wore a cream-colored shirt and black dress pants, his half-long dark hair partially obscuring his face. Yet even in this quiet pose, he exuded a subtle aura of authority.

 

Gu Jihuan swam over, gripped the railing, and effortlessly vaulted onto the pool’s edge. He gazed at Lu Shinian with a warm smile. “President Lu, still dressed so formally even by the pool?”

 

Water splashed onto Lu Shinian’s cheek. Lowering her gaze, she found herself staring into Gu Jihuan’s eyes, her gaze tracing the damp skin beneath them to the delicate collarbones that lay like jade spoons against his neck.

 

Water droplets trickled slowly from her earlobes, leaving faint pink patches on her skin. Her conservative pink-and-white swimsuit only heightened the allure, sparking the imagination.

 

His lips were glossy, his dark eyes sparkling like polished lacquer, reminding Lu Shinian of his words from the previous day: If you keep looking at me like that, I’ll think you want to kiss me.

 

He looked so kissable. Lu Shinian’s eyes flickered slightly, but she maintained her composed tone as she handed him a towel. “Dry off. It’s still a bit chilly.”

 

“Are you done with work?” Gu Jihuan took the towel, roughly dried herself, and casually sat beside Lu Shinian. “We came here for a vacation, but you ended up working anyway. You must be exhausted.”

 

“Almost done,” Lu Shinian nodded. “Grandma asked me to check on the M Country branch while I was here. It was just a quick trip, nothing too strenuous.”

 

As the towel rubbed against her skin, perhaps Gu Jihuan was using a bit too much force, leaving a faint pink mark. She didn’t dry herself thoroughly, draping the towel over her shoulders before reclining.

 

Just then, Lu Shinian asked, “Do you remember what you said last night?”

 

“What?” Gu Jihuan blinked, took a sip of juice, and pondered for a moment before smiling. “I only remember being drunk. Drunk people say silly things. Don’t go spreading it around—it’s too embarrassing.”

 

Lu Shinian seemed momentarily taken aback, then let out a slow breath. “I didn’t hear clearly either. If you don’t remember, it’s fine.”

 

Gu Jihuan’s curiosity piqued. Her eyes darted around as she leaned closer. “What exactly did I say? If you didn’t hear clearly, you must have caught something, right?”

 

Lu Shinian looked into her bright, sparkling eyes and shook his head. “I couldn’t make out anything clearly.”

 

“Never mind,” Gu Jihuan said, a hint of disappointment in her voice. “I was hoping to find out just how outrageous my sleep-talking really is.”

 

“Outrageous sleep-talking?” Lu Shinian couldn’t help but ask.

 

“My mom used to say I’d babble all sorts of nonsense in my sleep when I was little,” Gu Jihuan chuckled. “Sometimes I’d declare myself Superman, ready to fight monsters, and other times I’d insist there were eight suns in the sky…” She laughed again. “Mom even encouraged me to write down the stories from my dreams.”

 

Children’s dreams are often bizarre and fragmented, but her mother had meticulously recorded every scrap of her sleep-talking. Together, they wove those fragments into a long, whimsical tale.

 

But later, there was no one left to help her remember those scattered dream-fragments, no one to co-write stories with her. The tale remained unfinished, the notebook buried at the bottom of a storage box.

 

As Lu Shinian listened, his gaze softened slightly. “That must have been a fascinating story.”

 

“Let’s not talk about that anymore,” Gu Jihuan said, sizing up Lu Shinian. “You’re not planning to wear that on vacation, are you? We agreed to come here for two days.”

 

“It’s your vacation, not mine,” Lu Shinian replied calmly. “Just have fun.”

 

“How can I have fun alone? This huge pool, and it’s just me,” Gu Jihuan said tentatively. “Why don’t you change and play with me for a bit?”

 

Gu Jihuan genuinely felt that Lu Shinian was exhausted. Despite her wealth, she lived a tiring life. Whenever Gu Jihuan saw her, she always carried herself with a detached restraint, as if she were trapped in a shell, afraid to relax even for a moment.

 

“But…” Lu Shinian paused before continuing, “I can’t swim.”

 

Her deep eyes blinked gently, a hint of helplessness in their dark pupils. The brown beauty mark beneath her lower eyelid twitched slightly as she pressed her lips together, seemingly embarrassed.

 

Pfft! Gu Jihuan couldn’t help but laugh. She rested her arm on Lu Shinian’s shoulder and leaned closer, saying, “Don’t worry, I won’t make fun of you. Just don’t tease me about talking in my sleep, okay?”

 

Finally, she suggested, “Why don’t I teach you?”

 

Ripples gently disturbed the water’s surface. Lu Shinian gripped Gu Jihuan’s hand tightly, her expression strained, and a hint of nervousness flickered in her eyes.

 

She was indeed nervous—more so than when she’d argued with Lu Chuan at Ludi Group. Having always been somewhat afraid of water, she’d never learned to swim.

 

Strangely, she had initially refused. But after Gu Jihuan’s repeated invitations, she inexplicably changed her mind, changed into her swimsuit, and entered the water.

 

Lu Shinian’s long limbs and athletic build suggested natural prowess in sports, but reality often fell short of expectations.

 

Even in the shallowest part of the pool, her anxiety made her lose her footing, her movements stiff and awkward, as if walking on land.

 

Gu Jihuan couldn’t help but say, “President Lu, relax. Don’t fight the water. We’re supposed to float, remember?”

 

“Mm,” Lu Shinian nodded, meeting Gu Jihuan’s gaze. “Don’t call me ‘President Lu’ here. We’re on vacation.”

 

The title “President Lu” sounded so distant. Gu Jihuan could have affectionately called Lu Yuqiong “Sister Qiong,” but she stubbornly refused to abandon the formal address.

 

Gu Jihuan blinked, catching her reflection in those deep, dark eyes—only her reflection. How amusing, she thought. Here I am, nervous as hell, and she’s still fixating on these trivial details.

 

“Alright, President Lu,” Gu Jihuan teased deliberately. “Understood, President Lu.”

 

She released Lu Shinian’s hand and dove into the deep end of the pool. After swimming a lap, she resurfaced, grinning at Lu Shinian. “Hey, Shinian,” she called out, using her given name instead of the formal title. “Want to come play in the water with me?”

 

Water droplets clung to her long, thick lashes, and the corners of her eyes tilted upward with a mischievous smile. Her radiant face lit up as she extended her hand, inviting Lu Shinian just as she had when they first met at the bar.

 

Lu Shinian reached out and gently took Gu Jihuan’s hand. “Okay,” she said softly. “I trust you.”

 

Despite Lu Shinian’s show of complete trust, Gu Jihuan remained cautious. She didn’t take her to the deep end right away. Instead, she taught Lu Shinian how to float by letting the water’s buoyancy lift her up in the shallow end.

 

Lu Shinian’s progress was far slower than Gu Jihuan had anticipated. When she had learned to swim, she had mastered floating effortlessly on the surface in a single lesson. But Lu Shinian was tense, his movements clumsy and panicked.

 

Finally, Lu Shinian tentatively released Gu Jihuan’s hand. The water rippled gently as his limbs relaxed, as if sensing the subtle undulations.

 

But as the water gradually submerged his limbs, Lu Shinian suddenly panicked. It felt as if an endless ocean was surging in from all directions, its crushing weight dragging him relentlessly downward, downward, downward.

 

In that moment, he completely forgot they were in the shallow end, where simply standing upright would keep him safe. His mind went blank, filled only with the vast, churning waves and the overwhelming sensation of salty seawater flooding his senses.

 

“Lu Shinian! Lu Shinian! What’s wrong?” The voice at his ear shattered the emptiness in his mind, jolting Lu Shinian back to reality. The turbulent waves before him slowly receded.

 

“I’m okay,” Lu Shinian said, his eyelashes trembling slightly as he exhaled slowly. “I’m fine.”

 

“Maybe we should take a break? Learning to swim isn’t something you can master in one session,” Gu Jihuan suggested, her voice tinged with lingering fear. Lu Shinian’s face had gone deathly pale just moments ago.

 

Everyone in the world has different natural talents. Just as Gu Jihuan could never learn to drive, forever remaining clueless about cars, Lu Shinian was simply born without any aptitude for swimming.

 

“Mm,” Lu Shinian nodded, only then realizing something felt off. Their current position with Gu Jihuan was… awkward.

 

Perhaps it was the lingering tension from earlier. She had instinctively clung to the nearest lifeline, and Gu Jihuan, determined to keep her safe, had practically pulled her into a full embrace.

 

Beyond the gentle caress of the water, her arms were filled with softness.

 

Looking down, she could see Gu Jihuan’s delicate collarbones and the expanse of pale skin on her neck.

 

The distance was too close, close enough to kiss. Lu Shinian unconsciously softened her breathing.

 

Seeing that Lu Shinian was still somewhat dazed and worried, Gu Jihuan took her hand and slowly led her toward the pool’s edge.

 

Her hand was warm, with a particularly soft touch. Lu Shinian remembered those hands—slender and elegant when holding a wine glass, and undoubtedly graceful when wielding a scalpel…

 

And now, that beautiful hand was intertwined with hers. Lu Shinian lowered her lashes, concealing the emotions in her eyes. She liked this very, very much, but she wasn’t sure if she should.

 

After sitting by the pool for a while, Gu Jihuan noticed Lu Shinian’s expression softening slightly. She continued to reassure him, “It’s okay if you don’t get it right away. It’s just swimming. You’ll learn it quickly.”

 

“I’ve been afraid of water since I was a child,” Lu Shinian admitted, his voice slow and steady. “So this is my first time trying to swim.”

 

“Ah?” Gu Jihuan paused, feeling a pang of regret. She had only wanted to lighten his mood, but she had inadvertently struck a sensitive nerve.

 

Lu Shinian blinked and said calmly, “But it wasn’t so bad. I think I’ll try again after resting a bit.”

 

Perhaps because she had heard about the maritime disaster, Gu Jihuan had always harbored a fear of water. Chen Yuefang had been fiercely protective, ensuring she never learned to swim or fell into any body of water. The experience just now had indeed been novel.

 

“Then…” Gu Jihuan was about to say something when a crisp phone ring interrupted her.

 

Lu Shinian stood up, picked up his phone from the table, and answered, “Grandma.”

 

“Mm, I’ve reviewed the branch company’s accounts here. I don’t think the investment audits are thorough enough. Some people are overreaching their authority…”

 

Gu Jihuan wanted to speak, but the words caught in her throat. She could only quietly gaze at Lu Shinian’s profile.

 

A faint trace of water still clung to Lu Shinian’s temple. Beneath her slightly aloof eyelids, a small, light brown mole stood out with a cool detachment. The woman who had seemed so flustered in the pool now exuded an aura of cold, refined authority as she spoke about company matters.

 

Lu Shinian wasn’t the type to be overly approachable. Her presence carried a subtle sense of pressure, making it difficult for others to befriend her. Yet she was undeniably intriguing, drawing people in with an irresistible desire to learn more.

 

After hanging up the phone, Lu Shinian noticed the package on the table. “What’s this?”

 

“Just some…” Gu Jihuan paused, choosing her words carefully. “Trash.”

 

She added, “I’ll throw it away later. No need to let it bother you.”

 

Lu Shinian’s eyes flickered slightly. She already knew what it was.

 

She hesitated, unsure whether to reveal the truth to Gu Jihuan—the truth about Yan Yu.

 

Earlier that day, while reviewing the branch office’s financial records, Lu Shinian had also investigated the branch’s investments in the region. She had examined the documents Yan Yu’s company had submitted to request funding and ordered a thorough investigation.

 

Yan Yu’s so-called company project was a complete fabrication, nothing more than an empty shell. The “company” employed only three salaried individuals.

 

In other words, it was a shell company with no actual business operations, established solely to defraud investors.

 

One of Yan Yu’s primary methods of extracting funds was targeting women. She would simultaneously romance multiple women under the guise of genuine relationships, then pressure them to “invest” by claiming the company was experiencing cash flow problems.

 

All the money Gu Jihuan had given Yan Yu was framed as “investments,” not gifts. This meant Gu Jihuan bore full responsibility for any losses, and once the funds were committed, not a single penny could be recovered.

 

Lu Shinian’s gaze shifted from the small storage box to his phone, where he opened a chat window.

 

Continue investing in Fanxing Company as planned. Do not suspend funding.

 

The other party replied swiftly: President Lu, their documentation is non-compliant, and the project doesn’t exist. Continuing to invest carries a significant risk of losses.

 

Continue investing. Do not let them suspect anything.

 

After sending this message, Lu Shinian added: Set a trap for her. Make her regurgitate every penny she’s swallowed.

 

The person on the other end seemed to hesitate before replying, Alright, President Lu. I’ll submit a proposal to you within three days.

 

Lu Shinian’s subordinates were well-acquainted with his decisive style. In handling company affairs, he was always swift and resolute, and once he made a decision, no one could sway him, even if the matter carried risks.

 

For the Ludi Group, the investment losses were negligible. However, much of the money Yan Yu had swallowed was Gu Jihuan’s hard-earned savings. While Gu Jihuan might tolerate it, Lu Shinian refused to let it stand.

 

Seeing Lu Shinian absorbed in work, Gu Jihuan suggested, “Maybe we should call it a day. We can continue swimming lessons another time.”

 

“Alright,” Lu Shinian nodded, adding, “But don’t forget—you’re teaching me until I learn to swim.”

 

“Whoa,” Gu Jihuan blinked and chuckled softly. “Looks like I’m being blackmailed.”

 

She clicked her tongue. “You want to learn to swim? You could hire an Olympic champion! Why pick on an amateur like me? I have zero teaching experience, so there’s no guarantee of quality instruction.”

 

“No worries, you can learn at your own pace,” Lu Shinian said casually, as if it were an afterthought.

 

From now on, besides dinner dates, we could also go swimming together. That wouldn’t be bad at all.

 

“But once I’m back home, I won’t have the luxury of learning at my own pace,” Gu Jihuan said, stretching languidly. “There’s no pool as nice as this for me to use.”

 

As a member of the working class, she lived in a small apartment and her life revolved around work. As a busy doctor, she simply wouldn’t have time to go swimming after work.

 

Lu Shinian replied calmly, “Then why not build a pool at Qingnan Hospital?”

 

Lu Shinian had thought this through. Her villa didn’t have a pool because she disliked water, and adding one now would be a hassle. Besides, it wouldn’t be convenient for Gu Jihuan to come all the way here.

 

“Pfft—” Gu Jihuan, who had just taken a sip of juice, nearly spat it out. Building a pool at the hospital was something only a capitalist like Lu Shinian would even consider.

 

“Lu Shinian,” Gu Jihuan called out, wrapping her towel tighter as she leaned closer. She stared at Lu Shinian for a long moment before slowly asking, “Do you… like girls?”

 

“This…” Lu Shinian hesitated for a moment. “How do I put it?”

 

Gu Jihuan and Lu Shinian locked eyes. In those deep, dark eyes, there was a profound stillness, like the unruffled surface of an ancient well. Her slender neck stood out against the black swimsuit, her expression cold and detached, showing no reaction to Gu Jihuan’s question.

 

“Maybe I was wrong,” Gu Jihuan said, dismissing her own idea. “You don’t seem sensitive to physical contact between women. If we were still together with Yan Yu, I wouldn’t be able to teach you swimming like this. But it doesn’t matter now.”

 

When she was with Yan Yu, Gu Jihuan had been very careful about maintaining social distance with others. Apart from her best friend Jiang Min, she didn’t have any particularly close female friends.

 

Lu Shinian was straight, so it shouldn’t be a problem, as long as she didn’t get the wrong idea. Besides, Gu Jihuan no longer needed to worry about Yan Yu’s feelings; there was nothing between them anymore.

 

Gu Jihuan reclined back in her chair. Lu Shinian’s fingers, which had been gripping the juice cup tightly, relaxed slightly. She suddenly felt a pang of regret.

 

Because of Chen Yuefang’s opposition, Gu Jihuan had subconsciously resisted revealing her true feelings for years, including when Gu Jihuan asked her earlier, her first instinct was to deny it.

 

As twilight deepened, Gu Jihuan and Lu Shinian bid farewell at the rooftop pool and returned to their rooms to rest. Their short vacation was coming to an end, as they were scheduled to fly back home the next day.

 

Gu Jihuan took a few steps forward, then paused, remembering something. She turned back. “Are you absolutely sure you didn’t hear anything I said in my sleep last night?”

 

“No,” Lu Shinian replied with a slow shake of his head. After a pause, he added, “But there’s something I want to say.”

 

“What is it?”

 

“If you’re feeling sad, it’s okay to talk about it,” Lu Shinian said gently. “Yan Yu isn’t worth it.”

 

“I’m not sad,” Gu Jihuan said with a soft smile, her eyebrows arching slightly. “I told you before, it’s better to blame others than to reflect on myself. This was never my fault to begin with.”

 

Her eyebrows curved into a crescent shape as she turned away, leaving Lu Shinian with her back. She waved casually. “See you tomorrow morning. Don’t stay up too late and oversleep. We’ll miss our flight.”

 

Lu Shinian sighed softly, watching Gu Jihuan’s retreating figure with a hint of helplessness. Her sadness was plain to see, yet she refused to acknowledge it.

 

Gu Jihuan was like a proud socialite, concealing her emotions and sorrow beneath a radiant smile. She insisted she wasn’t hurt, almost convincing herself in the process.

 

Yet, on the very day Yan Yu broke up with her, she had gotten drunk at a bar. And now, on the day she ran into Yan Yu again, she had mumbled those ambiguous words in her sleep.

 

Lu Shinian still remembered Gu Jihuan’s last sleep-talking phrase: “Lu Shinian, if I liked you instead, would things be less terrible?”

 

As a child, Gu Jihuan’s dreams had been filled with fantastical stories. Now, she seemed to enjoy deceiving herself, pretending not to care even though she knew things were terrible.

 

Moreover, Lu Shinian keenly picked up on the crucial implication in her words: If I liked you instead… This proved that Gu Jihuan didn’t like her at all.

 

For some reason, obtaining this answer brought Lu Shinian both relief and a faint sense of disappointment.

 

In the restaurant across from Jianghuan Hospital:

 

“I’m late, I’m late, I’m late… There was an emergency surgery, I’m so sorry…” Jiang Min practically jogged to the table.

 

Gu Jihuan poured her a glass of water and watched as she gulped it down in one breath. “Why are you rushing?” she said, a hint of exasperation in her voice. “The food hasn’t even arrived yet. There’s no need to hurry.”

 

“I didn’t want to keep Doctor Tang and Doctor Shen waiting,” Jiang Min clicked her tongue. “They just finished their night shifts. We shouldn’t delay their rest. We could have just eaten at the hospital cafeteria, but you had to treat us again.”

 

“Well… the cafeteria’s off-limits now, isn’t it?” Gu Jihuan replied. “I originally planned to wait for you there, but my facial recognition access has been revoked.”

 

Jianghuan Hospital has two cafeterias: a large one open to the public and a smaller one for staff only. At this hour, the public cafeteria hadn’t opened yet, leaving only the staff cafeteria operational.

 

The staff cafeteria required facial recognition for entry. Gu Jihuan had intended to wait there for them, only to discover her access had been blocked.

 

Jiang Min frowned. “No way. When did Jianghuan’s HR and logistics become so efficient? Didn’t doctors who’d left three or four years ago still come back for meals?”

 

“Who’s been pressuring logistics? It’s practically an open-book exam,” Gu Jihuan said. Even she hadn’t expected Liu Zhiping to be so petty.

 

Jianghuan Hospital’s administrative and logistical departments had always been criticized by medical staff for their sluggishness. They’d drag their feet on everything, never showing such efficiency before. Yet, less than a week after Gu Jihuan’s departure, her internal access had been completely wiped clean, as if to leave her no room for second thoughts.

 

Gu Jihuan was a rebellious doctor who refused to blindly obey her superiors. As her skills and reputation gradually surpassed Liu Zhiping’s, he naturally felt threatened.

 

Moreover, Jiang Min had revealed his collusion with Vice President Zhou. Being ousted from his position at his age would be humiliating, so Liu Zhiping practically threw a farewell parade to celebrate Gu Jihuan’s departure.

 

“Jianghuan’s cardiology department will inevitably be ruined by Liu Zhiping,” Jiang Min snorted, then corrected herself. “No, I should say Jianghuan’s entire surgical department will eventually be destroyed by Vice President Zhou.”

 

“Alright, let’s not talk about them anymore,” Gu Jihuan said. “We’ve been on night shift all night. You must be starving.”

 

The freshly cooked dishes filled the air with an enticing aroma. Jiang Min’s eyes lit up with hunger as she devoured her meal, all while teasing, “It’s nothing compared to you, vacationing with the boss, stargazing by the sea. We don’t get any holidays.”

 

“Are you deliberately teasing me?” Gu Jihuan shot her a glare and lightly kicked Jiang Min under the table.

 

“Hey, hey, hey! That’s assault! I could call the police! It hurts, it hurts…” Jiang Min instantly transformed into a drama queen, baring her teeth and feigning pain, clearly trying to stage a scene.

 

Tang Menghua couldn’t help but chuckle. “Professor Gu and Professor Jiang are still as close as ever.”

 

“Of course! She can’t just ditch me now that she’s climbed the social ladder.” Mentioning this, Jiang Min’s gossip-loving soul ignited. “Did you really not know Lu Shinian’s true identity beforehand?”

 

“No idea,” Gu Jihuan shook her head. “He didn’t exactly have ‘Heir to the Lu Family’ tattooed on his forehead. You saw him at the hospital when he brought me in, didn’t you? You didn’t recognize him either.”

 

Jiang Min nodded. “True, I just figured he was rich, not that rich.”

 

Jiang Min’s eyes sparkled as she gazed at Gu Jihuan. “With your bar encounters and overseas trips together, there must be a story there, right?”

 

Gu Jihuan shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. “What kind of story could there be?”

 

“Boss falls for me, a hundred chance encounters with her soulmate, she chases, he flees, but she can’t escape, beach romance, tension at its peak…” Jiang Min winked at Gu Jihuan, grinning. “Isn’t this just a novel plot come to life?”

 

“Even food can’t shut you up,” Gu Jihuan said, both amused and exasperated by Jiang Min’s wild imagination. “It was a normal business trip to sign a contract with the M Country Heart Center. Where did you get all these crazy ideas?”

 

They had simply shared a bottle of wine on the beach. Nothing happened. Gu Jihuan only remembered drinking a bit too much, then drifting off to sleep. Lu Shinian woke her up, and she went back to her room to rest. The next day, they returned to China.

 

“I should have kept it a secret from you,” Gu Jihuan said, stuffing a peeled shrimp tail into Jiang Min’s mouth to shut her up. She then turned to Tang Menghua. “I heard Liu Zhiping has been scheduling you for night shifts lately?”

 

“It’s fine, I’m used to it,” Tang Menghua said, taking small bites of her food, a stark contrast to Jiang Min, who was devouring her meal. “Lately, the night shifts haven’t been too hectic. I can even sneak in a nap now and then.”

 

“Liu Zhiping is targeting me, and you’re all suffering because of it,” Gu Jihuan said. When she left, she hadn’t anticipated Liu Zhiping’s pettiness would reach this level.

 

“It’s not your fault, it’s mine,” Jiang Min said, biting into her food angrily. “Last time, I accused them of collusion, and they’ve been holding a grudge ever since. They’ve branded us as accomplices and won’t rest until they’ve driven us all out.”

 

“That’s why I came to see you today,” Gu Jihuan said. “I spoke with Vice President Yu at Qingnan Hospital. She said they would welcome you there anytime.”

 

Jiang Min hesitated. “Forget it. My family’s near Jianghuan, and I can still take care of them here. Qingnan is too far; I wouldn’t be able to look after them.”

 

Gu Jihuan had anticipated Jiang Min’s concerns and had already addressed them. “Vice President Yu said that if you come, they’ll advance five years’ worth of benefits as a lump-sum relocation bonus. That should cover your living expenses.”

 

Jiang Min paused mid-bite, her gaze sweeping up and down Gu Jihuan.

 

Gu Jihuan shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny. “What… what are you doing?”

 

“I’m checking if you sold yourself to Lu Shinian while you were abroad these past few days.”

 

Gu Jihuan fell silent.

 

For some inexplicable reason, she felt a twinge of guilt. After all, she hadn’t actually discussed this with Yu Hong; she’d spoken to Lu Shinian directly. To her surprise, Lu Shinian had agreed immediately, offering remarkably generous terms.

 

Just for teaching him to swim once… As for selling myself… that’s probably not the case, right?

 

Besides, even though they’d talked about continuing the swimming lessons, once they returned to China, they’d both be busy. It was likely just empty talk, with no follow-up.

 

Even if she had “sold herself,” it was only to Lu Yuqiong, agreeing to pretend to be Lu Yuqiong’s girlfriend.

 

“Great!” Tang Menghua exclaimed, clearly delighted. “I’d love to go… if Qingnan doesn’t mind me. If we live close by, I can even help Professor Jiang with caregiving when it’s convenient.”

 

Seeing Tang Menghua’s guileless enthusiasm, Jiang Min couldn’t help but remark, “You’re just too naive. Be careful Professor Gu doesn’t sell you off too.”

 

“I’m not like that, you know?” Gu Jihuan retorted, while still analyzing the situation for Tang Menghua. “Qingnan’s foundation isn’t as strong as Jianghuan’s, but their collaboration agreement with the M Country Heart Center might make them just as competitive.”

 

“Don’t worry, I’ll have your back even in Jianghuan,” Jiang Min said, patting her chest. “I promised I’d assist with anesthesia for your first solo surgery, remember? I’ll be your unwavering support.”

 

Gu Jihuan snorted softly. “You’re the one who’s trying to kidnap young ones! Xiao Tang, be careful—she tried to trick you the first time you met and she’s still at it.”

 

“That’s not true… Professor Gu and Professor Jiang are both wonderful…” Tang Menghua pretended to focus on her meal, but couldn’t resist stealing glances at Gu Jihuan.

 

As she chatted and laughed with Jiang Min, her eyes sparkled with radiant joy. The slight upturn at the corners of her eyes gave her a striking yet refined appearance. She seemed to be wearing perfume today, a subtle, rich fragrance that matched her own elegant and captivating presence.

 

Since joining Gu Jihuan’s team, Tang Menghua had gradually come to know this extraordinary professor.

 

Far from being rigid or conventional, Gu Jihuan’s personal life was as vibrant and dazzling as a blooming rose. Yet she was also remarkably attentive to those around her, radiating a captivating warmth that drew people closer.

 

Tang Menghua felt her heart pounding in her chest, the thudding audible even to herself.

 

Their relationship was purely professional, limited to superior and subordinate. Their mistreatment by Liu Zhiping had nothing to do with Gu Jihuan, who had already left Jianghuan and could easily have ignored their plight.

 

Yet Gu Jihuan was the only one who cared enough to consider them, these minor players, and fight for their positions at Qingnan Hospital.

 

Jiang Min’s case was different. Tang Menghua knew that, given her qualifications, Jiang Min would never have secured a position at Qingnan Hospital through the standard hiring process.

 

“I’m so glad you’re both willing to come,” Gu Jihuan said, finally feeling a weight lift from her shoulders. “Once you’re here, you’ll join my team. We’ll continue working side-by-side, just like before.” She considered them friends and couldn’t bear to leave them behind in Jianghuan, vulnerable to Liu Zhiping’s mistreatment.

 

Her team now consisted of herself, Shen Shuo, and Tang Menghua. With the addition of Li Mingyue, as Vice President Yu had mentioned, they would have four members—a typical size for a small medical team, and a relatively well-staffed one at that.

 

After lunch, Tang Menghua and Shen Shuo went home to rest. Jiang Min, however, refused to leave, insisting on helping Gu Jihuan move. She claimed she wasn’t tired, having “slacked off” and slept half the night before.

 

As Gu Jihuan walked out of the restaurant, Jiang Min grabbed her hand. A black Cayenne pulled up smoothly beside them.

 

The car window rolled down, and the driver leaned out to say, “Miss Gu, President Lu sent me to help you. We’ve met before.”

 

“Whoa, Gu Jihuan, tell me, are you really hiding something from me?” Jiang Min stared in disbelief. Helping her find a job was one thing, but now assisting with her move? That was pushing it.

 

“No, what would I be hiding?” Gu Jihuan had a sudden premonition that Jiang Min’s mind was racing with wild theories again. “Can’t a boss just care about their employee? Help them move, let them rest well, and expect them to work hard on Monday? Isn’t that normal?”

 

Lu Shinian had indeed said something similar. He felt he had taken up two days of Gu Jihuan’s time, so he sent someone to help her move as a gesture of concern for his employee.

 

Jiang Min scoffed, “Normal? Only you would think that’s normal.”

 

“Alright, let’s go,” Gu Jihuan said, feeling overwhelmed by Jiang Min’s gossipy gaze. She hurriedly pushed Jiang Min into the car.

 

The only person in the car was the driver, Zhong Tian, Lu Shinian’s newly hired chauffeur. He had been sent to help with the move, but also received another instruction from Lu Shinian: to keep this matter hidden from Chen Yuefang.

 

Lu Shinian didn’t want Chen Yuefang to know about his private dealings with Gu Jihuan. Their recent trip to the M Country for business had gone unnoticed, but asking for help with moving now would draw too much attention.

 

At present, the only person Lu Shinian fully trusted and who wouldn’t report to Chen Yuefang was his driver, Zhong Tian.

 

Gu Jihuan’s rented apartment was near Jianghuan Hospital. After some consideration, she decided not to move everything. She would take only the essentials and move the rest to her old family home in the Happiness Community for now.

 

The car stopped at the foot of the Happiness Community building. Zhong Tian immediately got out and began unloading the boxes, bustling back and forth with remarkable diligence.

 

Suddenly, his phone buzzed incessantly in his pocket. He looked slightly embarrassed. “Miss Gu, would you mind if I take this call?”

 

“No problem, we can start moving things ourselves.”

 

Gu Jihuan picked up two small boxes and headed into the building.

 

The Happiness Community was an old residential complex without elevators, and the stairwells were narrow. Fortunately, the old apartment was on the ground floor, so they didn’t have to climb any stairs, making the move less cumbersome.

 

Gu Jihuan opened the door, placed the boxes in the living room, and turned back to fetch more. Her eyes immediately fell on the overflowing mailbox. Several letters were only half-stuffed inside, the rest protruding out. She paused in her tracks.

 

The last time Gu Jihuan came to handle the loan, the mailbox had been overflowing. She had cleared it out then, but how could it be full again after less than a month?

 

She didn’t live here, and her grandmother, Mei Yu, had passed away long ago. Logically, no one should be using this address for correspondence.

 

Gu Jihuan pulled open the mailbox, and a cascade of packages tumbled out, forming a small mountain on the ground.

 

After a quick glance, she noticed they all came from the same sender, but the address was illegible, making it impossible to trace the exact origin.

 

She randomly tore open one of the envelopes. Her fingers twitched slightly as her eyes fell on the large, bl00d-red characters that filled the page. The sight was unsettling. Inside was a single sheet of paper with just four words: “Pay your debts.”

 

The vivid red ink, smeared across the page like fresh bloodstains, startled even Gu Jihuan, a doctor accustomed to the sight of bl00d.

 

“What’s wrong?” Jiang Min, who had just finished carrying another load of belongings, approached and peered at the paper in Gu Jihuan’s hand. She gasped sharply. “This… this is a threatening letter, isn’t it?”

 

Jiang Min frowned and continued, “It looks like debt collectors. Their methods are clearly illegal. Jihuan, you didn’t take out a high-interest loan for that bastard Yan Yu, did you?”

 

“No,” Gu Jihuan shook her head, exhaling slowly. “I finally figured out what happened to the three million…”

 

“Huh?” Jiang Min was taken aback. “What three million?”

 

Gu Jihuan hadn’t told Jiang Min about the three million yuan loan before, so she had to explain it now.

 

Then she shared her theory: “I’ve always wondered why the money my parents left as compensation for their deaths was spent on my overseas education. As a doctor, her income wasn’t low, and she never bought any property. How could she have spent three million yuan?”

 

“Now I think I have the answer,” Gu Jihuan scoffed softly. “It was probably for my good-for-nothing uncle again, draining the entire family’s savings.”

 

Gu Jihuan’s relationship with her grandmother, Mei Yu, had deteriorated over the years. Her long absence abroad had strained their bond to the point of estrangement, stemming from a legal battle they fought over the compensation money after her parents’ deaths.

 

Mei Yu was a highly respected obstetrician and gynecologist, renowned for her exceptional medical skills and kind nature. Yet one thing remained puzzling: her unwavering favoritism towards her good-for-nothing eldest son.

 

As she put it, Gu Jihuan’s father was capable, successful, and had a happy family, so he should naturally help his elder brother. “Bl00d is thicker than water,” she’d say, “and the strong should always support the weak.”

 

Initially, Gu Jihuan’s parents had indeed followed this principle, helping their eldest son find jobs and providing financial support. But eventually, all these resources became gambling chips on the mahjong table, a bottomless pit that could never be filled.

 

The final straw came when Mei Yu secretly took the tuition money she had saved for Gu Jihuan’s international school education and gave it to her eldest son. This sparked a violent argument, leading Gu Jihuan’s mother to sever ties with Mei Yu completely and flee the house with Gu Jihuan.

 

Later, Gu Jihuan’s father mediated between the two sides and made Mei Yu promise to cut off all contact with her eldest son. Only then could the family barely hold together.

 

Though Gu Jihuan was young at the time, the intense arguments and the memory of running away from home remained vividly etched in her mind, still as clear as day.

 

Later, Mei Yu truly kept her promise, severing ties with her eldest son and living peacefully until Gu Jihuan’s parents passed away, leaving behind a substantial compensation.

 

Gu Jihuan wanted to study medicine abroad, but Mei Yu refused to release the funds, arousing Gu Jihuan’s suspicions.

 

One day after school, Gu Jihuan saw Mei Yu bringing a strange man home for dinner. The man acted evasively, hiding his presence, clearly something was amiss.

 

Remembering her childhood experiences, Gu Jihuan feared the compensation would ultimately be squandered. Steeling her resolve, she sought legal counsel and filed a lawsuit, recovering half of the funds. Despite Mei Yu’s pleas, Gu Jihuan resolutely left the country and severed all contact with her.

 

When things were normal, Mei Yu had been a decent grandmother, preparing three meals a day for Gu Jihuan, taking her to and from school, and accompanying her to painting classes.

 

Yet Gu Jihuan felt only pity and sorrow. The eldest son Mei Yu had cherished most in her life never returned to claim her body, even on the day she died. It was Jianghuan Hospital that eventually contacted Gu Jihuan overseas, who returned to arrange her funeral.

 

If it weren’t for that paternal uncle, her grandmother and she might have shared a close, familial bond, enjoying the simple joys of family life like any ordinary grandmother and granddaughter.

 

A mother’s love is like the sea, a deep and boundless devotion… Perhaps Mei Yu wasn’t entirely wrong, but things had spiraled beyond repair.

 

“Miss Gu, is there anything else I can help with?” Zhong Tian asked, carefully maneuvering the two largest suitcases through the narrow hallway.

 

“No, thank you, Brother Zhong,” Gu Jihuan replied, hastily folding the papers in her hand and tucking them back into the express delivery package. She shot Jiang Min a meaningful glance, clearly signaling that she didn’t want Zhong Tian to see the contents of the papers.

 

Understanding her intent, Jiang Min quickly gathered all the express delivery packages scattered on the floor, stuffed them into a bag, and tossed it into the least conspicuous corner of the living room.

 

Gu Jihuan didn’t have much to move—just a few suitcases, which were all carried in two trips.

 

She handed Zhong Tian a bottle of mineral water, smiling. “Thank you so much, Brother Zhong, for deigning to do manual labor for me.”

 

For Zhong Tian, this was indeed a condescension. As Lu Shinian’s personal driver, he wouldn’t normally be doing heavy lifting like moving luggage—such tasks fell far outside the scope of a driver’s duties.

 

“President Lu instructed me to do this. It’s my duty,” Zhong Tian said with a faint smile. He knew Lu Shinian wanted to keep this matter from Chen Yuefang, so he couldn’t delegate the task to anyone else. Coming personally was the most discreet approach.

 

He also had his own calculations. Having been recruited by Lu Shinian, he was now firmly on Lu Shinian’s ship and knew that loyalty was essential to stay the course. The woman before him… she clearly held a special place in Lu Shinian’s heart.

 

Even though Chen Yuefang still maintained an iron grip on the Ludi Group, Zhong Tian had a strong intuition that Young President Lu would soon surpass his mother’s influence.

 

But Zhong Tian was a man of action, not words. He completed his task and left promptly, embodying the discretion of a professional driver who knew how to keep his mouth shut.

 

Gu Jihuan and Jiang Min had just finished tidying up the room when Gu Jihuan’s phone buzzed twice in her pocket. It was a message from Lu Shinian.

 

He had sent three renderings of swimming pool designs, asking: [Qingnan Hospital is adding a pool to its sports complex. Which design do you like best?]

 

Gu Jihuan fell silent for a moment. President Lu’s efficiency was truly remarkable. He had finalized the pool project within a single day, even producing detailed renderings. Such a massive pool—he could just decide to build it, and it would be done.

 

Gu Jihuan glanced at her old, dilapidated apartment and couldn’t help but sigh softly. The richest man’s friend and poor me.

 

Before she could reply, another message arrived: If you don’t like either of those, tell me what you have in mind. Just keep in mind that a hospital might not be able to accommodate a rooftop pool of resort-level grandeur.

 

Gu Jihuan: “……” She didn’t just want a pool; she wanted a rooftop pool like those at luxury resorts.

 

In that moment, Gu Jihuan felt like she had a Su Daji experience card. With a single word, she could make a tycoon spend money like water.

 

The feeling was exhilarating, but also immensely stressful, as if she had become a femme fatale.

 

Gu Jihuan quickly replied: No need! I don’t think Qingnan Hospital needs a pool. It’s too much trouble.

 

Qingnan Hospital is being developed into Jiang City’s premier private hospital. A gymnasium and swimming pool are part of the plan, providing future recreational facilities for medical staff.

 

After sending the message, Lu Shinian added: Employee benefits contribute to the hospital’s long-term development. I don’t consider it too much trouble.

 

Gu Jihuan blinked. It seemed this wasn’t entirely about her being his “Su Daji.” It was about the hospital’s overall development. So I was just overthinking things.

 

In Lu Shinian’s office at Ludi Group, she flipped her phone face down on the desk and looked at the man across from her. “Continue.”

 

The middle-aged man nodded. “President Chen is aware of the situation in M Country. Her view is that further investment in Fanxing is unnecessary. We should simply compile the evidence and hand it over to the M Country police.”

 

Lu Shinian’s gaze paused briefly, her fingertips tapping lightly on the desk. “And what about Ludi Group’s losses?” she asked slowly. “Are we just going to ignore them?”

 

“Well…” The man hesitated before continuing, “The M Country police will cooperate with us in punishing Fanxing. This should serve as a warning to others, deterring any future attempts to defraud Lu Di.”

 

He didn’t say it directly, but the implication was clear: Lu Di wasn’t concerned about recovering the losses; they simply wanted to make an example of Fanxing.

 

Yan Yu’s surface-level accounting was impeccable, making it appear as though the funds had been lost through legitimate investment failures. Pursuing legal action through standard channels would make it nearly impossible to find any regulatory violations.

 

However, Ludi Group’s legal team was far from ordinary. If they truly cooperated with the police and relentlessly pursued the case, Yan Yu would have no escape.

 

This was precisely Chen Yuefang’s strategy: make an example of Fanxing and stop there. There was no need to waste further resources on this minor project.

 

“I’ll speak to Grandma. The project will continue. I’ll make Fanxing Company regurgitate everything they’ve swallowed,” Lu Shinian said, lifting his gaze to meet the middle-aged man’s eyes. “You know what needs to be done.”

 

“Yesterday’s news reached Grandma today. It seems some people have… ulterior motives,” Lu Shinian added casually. “They can’t see who will be calling the shots in the future. Choosing the wrong side would be unwise.”

 

The man paused, then replied slowly, “Understood, President Lu.”

 

As the middle-aged man left, closing the door behind him, he exhaled slowly, a knot of anxiety tightening in his chest.

 

He was Chen Yuefang’s man, a fact Lu Shinian had likely known all along. Previously, Lu Shinian hadn’t seemed to resist Chen Yuefang’s arrangements for him. But recently, the young president had changed significantly…

 

He didn’t know why Lu Shinian had begun concealing things from Chen Yuefang, but he understood that Lu Shinian’s words were a clear ultimatum, forcing him to reconsider his allegiance.

 

Inside the office, Lu Shinian’s gaze drifted to his phone screen as he leaned back in his chair, lost in thought. It wasn’t just about making Fanxing Company return the money they’d taken. Lu Bei and Lu Jingqing would also face consequences. He couldn’t let them off so easily.