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Chapter 6 — The Rich and the Wealthy
Huo Enhui didn’t wake up until past eight. If the servants hadn’t called him, he might have slept all the way until noon.
By the time he opened his eyes, Zhong Qi had already finished her morning run. She came in, changed her shoes at the door, and glanced over to see him sitting up in a daze. Within seconds, he was fully awake—crossing the room in a few quick steps to take the sports jacket she was about to hand to the maid.
He noticed the fine beads of sweat at the tip of her nose, glistening and translucent, hanging there like they might fall at any moment. In a slightly hoarse voice, he asked, “Did the chairman have breakfast?”
Zhong Qi thought he looked a little like a dutiful wife in that moment. She didn’t respond, just slipped into her slippers and walked toward the dining room.
Huo Enhui’s gaze followed her. The sports tank clung tightly to her body, outlining her narrow waist beneath it. On her pale skin, there were two faint marks—pinches left behind from somewhere unseen.
A maid brought out breakfast. Zhong Qi sat down at the table, and when she looked up, she caught him still staring.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” she asked.
Huo Enhui drifted upstairs almost like a sleepwalker. He washed up, splashing cold water onto his face with force. Then he braced both hands against the sink, breathing heavily.
Zhong Qi had other men.
So why keep him?
A woman like her—if she wanted to stand firm in the business world—inevitably had to brush against those kinds of transactions. Most of the people she dealt with were men. So was keeping him just about self-respect? About taking back what she lost elsewhere, from someone weaker than her?
If that was the case, Zhong Qi was ruthless.
He had clearly been hard yesterday. They could have continued without issue—but she told him to sleep instead. Then she went out to find someone else, and came back with marks on her body.
It was humiliating.
Huo Enhui closed his eyes. When he opened them again, all the turbulent emotion had already been pressed back down.
By the time he went downstairs again, Zhong Qi was fully dressed, bare-faced, already picking up her bag to leave.
Seeing him, she glanced over casually. “Which school are you from?”
“I study at the Imperial Capital Film Academy,” he replied.
Zhong Qi nodded in understanding. No wonder a young, handsome man like him would end up here—he was trying to get into the entertainment industry. If she wanted, she could easily make him a rising star.
As if sensing her misunderstanding, he added, “I’m in directing.”
That stubborn pride again. He couldn’t even tolerate a moment’s ambiguity, always adding unnecessary clarification—as if being a director who might be ‘kept’ was somehow different from an actor who might be ‘kept.’
Zhong Qi gave a slight nod. “If it’s not vacation time, you don’t have to stay here every day. You can go back to school whenever you want.”
For a split second, Huo Enhui took it as rejection. That she was dissatisfied with him. That she wanted to send him away.
Suppressing the surge of emotion, he said quickly, “Chairman, I’ve already moved out of the dorm. I’ve also informed my advisor.”
Zhong Qi smiled faintly. “If you’re free at night, I’ll have Qiu Yang pick you up. We can have dinner together.”
Only then did Huo Enhui quietly relax.
The AI project team had existed in the Zhong Corporation for years, well-established and highly structured. Entire floors—fifteen to eighteen of the Zhong Corporation Tower—belonged to them.
Even before meeting Jiang Shicheng, the team had already been tracking global AI development and expanding into new directions. The goal was simple: when the time came for major investment, they could scale and integrate instantly, rather than waste time building from scratch.
Zhong Qi placed great importance on the AI division. Even though other shareholders had complaints, she bore the pressure alone and allocated as much funding as possible to the team.
Of course, the others didn’t dare protest too loudly. Zhong Qi wasn’t just a nominal leader—she was the true decision-maker of the entire group. Her vision and judgment carried real weight. Without her, the Zhong Corporation would be nothing but a hollow shell.
But the heavier the responsibility, the broader one’s shoulders had to be.
A knock came at the office door.
After a pause, a voice finally answered from inside: “Come in.”
Zhong Qi stood with her back to him, facing the floor-to-ceiling window. The setting sun was sinking behind layers of skyscrapers, its brilliant afterglow pouring through the glass and spilling across her figure. She seemed almost to dissolve into it—her outline blurred, her expression indistinct.
“Chairman,” Qiu Yang said quietly. “The restaurant has been booked.”
Zhong Qi turned slightly, leaning against the window. “That… Enhui? Has he gone over?”
“He’s already there.”
At the restaurant, Huo Enhui was indeed already waiting.
The waiter pulled out a chair, and Zhong Qi sat across from him. They exchanged a few words as they ordered.
Soon after, the waiter returned with a trolley, setting down dish after dish until the table was filled with food that looked almost too good to resist.
Zhong Qi unfolded her napkin and placed it neatly over her lap. When she looked up, she saw Huo Enhui watching her closely. He mimicked her and unfolded his own napkin.
He seemed a little tense.
Earlier, when the waiter handed him the menu, just a glance at the prices had stunned him. He only ordered one dish—until Zhong Qi added a few more for him.
His family wasn’t poor. He came from a business household in a second-tier city, raised comfortably enough that he could afford the Imperial Capital Film Academy—and even a costly major like directing.
But he had never been to a restaurant like this before. A single meal here could easily run into tens of thousands.
And it wasn’t just the price. The cutlery alone—multiple forks and knives, each slightly different in size and shape—was already disorienting. He didn’t even know which one was meant for what. Nor did he understand how the sauces were supposed to be used.
So this was the difference between the rich and the wealthy.
Not just money—but class itself.
Zhong Qi could tell exactly what he was thinking.
She didn’t say anything. Instead, she slowly picked up a fork and knife, calmly cutting into the fish on her plate.
Huo Enhui noticed her movements and froze for a moment. Then, almost reflexively, he followed her lead.
By the end of the meal, Zhong Qi looked satisfied. She wiped the corner of her lips with a napkin and said casually, “Take your time. No rush.”
Huo Enhui still put down his cutlery. “I’m full too.”
Zhong Qi glanced at the barely touched dishes in front of him, then smiled as she set her napkin aside.
