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Chapter 8
Surprise
Zhong Qi stepped out of the bathroom, and as expected, Huo Enhui hadn’t gone to sleep. He was sitting at the head of the bed, drying his hair, as if he had been waiting for her.
Zhong Qi glanced at him, then reached out to dim the bedside lamp. She wrapped a blanket around herself and left the bedroom, moving to the sofa in the living room.
Not long after, Huo Enhui came downstairs as well. His steps were light as he sat down on the floor opposite her. He had brought a thick notebook with him. After thinking for a moment, he opened it and wrote something down.
Zhong Qi typed on her laptop. At a glance upward, she saw him holding a pen in one hand while the other was extended, his long, evenly jointed fingers spread slightly as if measuring distance in midair.
Sensing her gaze, Huo Enhui paused.
“Director… am I disturbing you?”
Zhong Qi lowered her eyes and noticed the small word “camera” among the notes in his book.
“Storyboarding?” she asked.
Huo Enhui nodded. Zhong Qi looked away and continued working.
In the middle of the night, when Zhong Qi stretched her arms slightly, Huo Enhui abruptly stopped writing.
“Are you going to sleep, Director?”
“I’m not sleeping tonight,” Zhong Qi said, rotating her wrist.
Huo Enhui thought for a moment, closed the notebook, and came over. He sat on the floor near her.
“If your hands are sore… I can massage them?”
Zhong Qi smiled faintly. “Sure.”
Huo Enhui took her hand and began to knead it slowly—from her wrist down to each fingertip, not missing a single point.
Her hands were extremely thin, skin tightly wrapped over bone, every joint sharply defined. Her fingers were long and pale, the lines of her palm faint. Under the fragile skin on the back of her hand, pale blue veins were clearly visible—almost giving off a delicate, fading beauty, as if something life-like was slipping away.
And yet, these hands—when wrapped around a man’s arousal—carried an understated sense of control.
Huo Enhui’s throat rolled. The heat that hadn’t fully subsided rose again, restless and insistent.
He couldn’t understand it. Why did he feel such endless desire toward a woman like Zhong Qi? He was only massaging her hand, yet somehow ended up aroused himself.
Forcing himself to stay composed, he didn’t dare look at her anymore and instead focused on the laptop screen in front of her.
Zhong Qi didn’t hide anything. She was tracking currency fluctuations; dense charts and unfamiliar English technical terms filled the screen. Huo Enhui couldn’t understand any of it.
After massaging her hand and forearm, he moved behind the sofa, sitting on the armrest, and began massaging her shoulders.
Suddenly, Zhong Qi reached out and picked up the notebook on the table, flipping through it.
For a brief moment, Huo Enhui tensed.
She looked through it for a while, then closed it and placed it back down without a word.
His work… meant nothing to her.
Huo Enhui steadied his breath and lowered his head, his gaze fixed on the pale curve of her neck. He almost wanted to bite down on the protruding bone of her nape.
Zhong Qi suddenly turned her head. Her fingers slipped into his short hair, stroking slowly.
“Tomorrow I’m leaving Imperial Capital. While I’m gone, if you’re free, go out and have some fun.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw him nod with his head lowered and thought—this little thing really was too sensitive.
She patted his cheek and said patiently, “I’m not from your field. I don’t understand your work. If you have time, show it to Du Lin.”
Du Lin—Xue Dulín, a true media mogul.
Huo Enhui had heard of him but never met him. Still, from Zhong Qi’s tone, it was obvious they were familiar. And the implication was clear—she intended to introduce him.
Most of the top domestic AI teams were based in Imperial Capital. But just yesterday, a capable team in H City had disbanded due to lack of funding. They had failed to continue their project and were suddenly unemployed. The news hadn’t spread widely yet. People like them were rare; once word got out, they would be quickly snapped up.
Zhong Qi needed to expand her AI division, so she personally came to H City to meet them.
At the dinner table, she didn’t say much, but her sincerity was already laid out clearly. The offer she gave verbally was extremely generous, and several of them were clearly tempted.
Zhong Qi observed their expressions calmly, interlacing her fingers under her chin.
“Since we get along so well, there’s no need to be polite. The next stop is nearby—let’s all relax and enjoy ourselves there.”
Some of them looked uncomfortable.
One of them hesitated and said softly, “Director Zhong… we might not be able to go. We already have another appointment—”
Before he could finish, a companion beside him nudged him sharply into silence.
Zhong Qi smiled faintly.
“You mean someone else has already arranged to meet you?”
These people had already made an appointment with Jiang Shicheng.
Zhong Qi’s intelligence network had moved almost in sync with his. Both had arrived in H City—she first, he after.
When Jiang Shicheng stepped into the private room, the dim golden lighting immediately revealed Zhong Qi sitting among the group.
He wasn’t surprised. Someone like her—who shared his ambitions in AI—would inevitably cross paths with him.
Hands in his trouser pockets, he said lightly, “Director Zhong. What a coincidence.”
He lowered himself into the sofa beside her.
Zhong Qi turned slightly, leaning close to his ear.
“It’s not a coincidence. I came here specifically to give Mr. Jiang a surprise.”
Her warm breath and faint fragrance brushed against his ear, pulling a slight smile from him.
Zhong Qi wore a simple white dress that day. Her soft curves were hidden beneath the fabric, revealing nothing, but her long, pale legs were exposed beneath the skirt, the thin straps over her shoulders teasing just enough to draw the eye.
Jiang Shicheng’s arm slid behind her back, long fingers hooking one of her shoulder straps.
“Director Zhong’s surprise… I’ve received it.”
“You might be misunderstanding,” Zhong Qi said evenly, raising her hand and snapping her fingers. “My surprise is this.”
The door opened again.
Secretary He Qiuyang led in a group of young women—slender waists, long legs, delicate and striking. The room’s atmosphere shifted instantly.
Some of the men, unused to this kind of scene, shifted awkwardly as the women sat beside them. But He Qiuyang had arranged it carefully: none of the women sat next to married men. The rest were surrounded in twos and threes by those who were single.
With the women’s enthusiasm, the initially restrained guests quickly loosened up.
Two women sat beside Jiang Shicheng as well, leaning in from both sides.
He tilted his head slightly and saw Zhong Qi already sitting farther away, legs crossed, toes pointed. She raised her hand lazily and pulled a young man who had just entered to sit beside her.
The boy lit her cigarette. Through the thin haze of smoke, Zhong Qi flicked ash slowly.
“These girls are all clean,” she said calmly. “If you’re still not satisfied, there are suites upstairs.”
The atmosphere in the room heated up instantly.
Jiang Shicheng narrowed his eyes slightly, wrapped an arm around the girl beside him, and asked in a low, husky voice:
“How clean are they, hmm?”
