Chapter Twenty-One: A "Friend" Has an Urgent Matter

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Yuling gazed at the flawless smile on his face, then recalled the cold, icy silhouette she had glimpsed behind the balcony glass just moments ago. A profound sense of absurdity surged within her. She lowered her eyes, picked up a blueberry between her fingers, and softly murmured, “Hmm,” without pressing further. She knew that even if she asked, she wouldn’t receive the genuine truth. This man, when it came to things he didn’t want her to know, could conjure a thousand airtight explanations.

Scenes like this began to play out repeatedly, at varying intervals and in different corners.

Sometimes, it was late at night in the study. Yuling would get up for water and pass by the study door, which was slightly ajar. Through the crack, she could see the light and hear Zhao Chen’s voice lowered to a serious tone.

No longer gentle, his voice was now calm to the point of cruelty, analytical and rapid, with precise logic that pinpointed fatal flaws in the other party’s strategy. He proposed ruthless corrective measures, his wording concise and powerful, carrying an unquestionable authority. Yuling stood outside the door, heart pounding with fear. It didn’t feel like a friendly discussion; it felt more like a verdict being delivered.

Other times, it was a weekend afternoon. The two of them were nestled on the sofa watching a movie when Zhao Chen’s phone vibrated. He glanced at the screen, his brow tightening imperceptibly, then offered Yuling an apologetic smile:

“Sorry, Lingling, I need to take this call. A friend has an urgent matter.” Holding the phone, he walked to the balcony, his figure quickly shrouded by a heavy, distant gravity. Through the glass, Yuling watched him pace briskly, then stop, his fingertips tapping unconsciously against the cold railing, as if calculating something.

After the call ended, he returned casually to the sofa, picking up the chips and pointing at the screen, saying, “That last special effect looked pretty good,” as if the imposing, solemn man on the balcony had never existed.

The occasion that left the deepest impression on Yuling occurred one weekday evening.

Yuling had returned home early, frustrated by a stuck data model, hoping for quiet to think. Using her fingerprint to unlock the door, the house was silent. She assumed Zhao Chen hadn’t come back yet, changed her shoes, and tiptoed toward the living room.

But as she reached the doorway, her steps abruptly halted.

Zhao Chen stood with his back to her, in front of the vast floor-to-ceiling window. Outside, the city glittered with countless lights, like an inverted Milky Way. He held his phone to his ear, his silhouette blurred in the glass reflection but radiating a chilling, solitary dignity.

His voice came through clearly, not loud, yet each word like an ice pick, saturated with a bone-deep chill and a stark, icy menace:

“…Director Gu, I believe my stance has been made clear. Fifteen percent is the bottom line. No room for negotiation.”

The other end erupted in heated argument.

Zhao Chen’s voice remained flat, terrifyingly calm: “Your side’s violations in the Southeast Asia project have been thoroughly documented. Now, you have only two choices: accept my terms or watch Gu Corporation’s stock plummet in free fall when the market opens tomorrow.”

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He paused, seemingly listening to the other party’s frantic shouting. Then, a faint, cruel smile curved the corner of his mouth, his voice still steady but weighted with the power to crush all opposition:

“Threats? Feel free to try. Let’s see whether Gu’s foundation is deeper or my blade faster. Remember, this is a notice, not a negotiation. By 10 a.m. tomorrow, I want the signed agreement in my assistant’s inbox. Otherwise, bear the consequences.”

With that, he didn’t give the other side a chance to respond, cutting off the call decisively. His movements were sharp and efficient, emanating complete control.

He stood silently by the window, gazing out at the dazzling nightscape, his posture tall and solitary like a lone peak. Around him radiated a suffocating, lingering cold aura so potent that even the city lights seemed to dim.

Yuling stood hidden in the shadow of the living room entrance, holding her breath, her heart pounding wildly in her chest, her hands and feet growing cold.

Director Gu? Gu Corporation? Southeast Asia project? Violations? Stock in free fall? Bear the consequences?!

Each word hammered her understanding relentlessly. This was no casual complaint shared with a friend. It was a naked, condescending business threat—a display of capital’s overwhelming power to make or break at will.

The man on the phone, delivering verdicts with an icy tone, wielding life-and-death control… was he truly the same Zhao Chen who every day tied on his little whale apron to brew her brown sugar ginger tea and coquettishly begged for a lap pillow?

A surge of terror and an indescribable sense of estrangement gripped Yuling. She felt like an ignorant child who had stumbled into forbidden territory, glimpsing a fragment of a monstrous abyss.

At that moment, Zhao Chen seemed to sense the gaze behind him and slowly turned around.

When his eyes met Yuling’s pale, shocked, and fearful face hidden in the shadows, the lingering cold aura around him receded instantly, like a tide withdrawing—astonishingly fast.

In those amber eyes, the ice melted away, replaced by a gentle smile, clear and deep as a thawing lake in early spring, tinged with just the right amount of surprise and concern:

“Lingling? When did you get back? Why are you standing there so quiet?” He stepped forward and naturally reached out to brush a stray lock of hair from her cheek.

But Yuling, startled like a frightened rabbit, instinctively stepped back, avoiding his touch. Her fingertips were icy cold.

Zhao Chen’s hand froze mid-air, his smile faltering for a brief moment, and a flicker of something dark and hard to grasp flashed across the depths of his eyes. Yet immediately, that subtle oddity was masked perfectly by his gentle facade.

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He withdrew his hand, voice laced with genuine concern: “What’s wrong? You look unwell. Too much work?” He stepped closer without waiting for an answer, gently placing his hand on her forehead, his touch soft and natural. “No fever, right? Are you feeling okay anywhere?”

His palm was warm and dry, carrying a familiar scent of cedarwood. His caring gaze was close enough to touch, sincere and flawless.

Yuling stared at his handsome face so near, those clear amber eyes filled with worry… The cold, ruthless man in the phone call seemed like a dreadful hallucination born of her fatigue.

The immense discord left her dizzy. She opened her mouth but found her throat too dry to speak. She wanted to ask: Who is Director Gu? What is Gu Corporation? Who are you threatening? Who exactly are you?

But the words dried up, transformed into a hoarse whisper: “I’m… fine. Just… a bit tired.” She lowered her head, avoiding his searching eyes, her fingertips icy.

“If you’re tired, then rest first.” Zhao Chen’s voice was tender enough to drip, his arm naturally wrapping around her shoulders with an irresistible strength, guiding her toward the bedroom. “What would you like for dinner? How about some light porridge?”

His embrace was warm and firm, radiating reassurance. But as Yuling leaned against him, feeling his steady heartbeat, her heart grew colder still.

That “friend’s” call was like a glaring, unavoidable warning light, casting a heavy, icy shadow over the sweet and stable life she thought she had.

At last, she understood with crystal clarity that the husband who wore the little whale apron and smiled so kindly might be one and the same as the cold, unyielding “friend” wielding power over life and death on the other end of the phone.

The “ordinary” and “gentle” sides he showed her were perhaps only the insignificant tip of an iceberg. Beneath the surface lay a vast, unfathomable shadow and a turbulent current strong enough to swallow her whole.

Those “friends” he casually mentioned, those flashes of dominance and chill in his calls—they were no harmless mysteries but cold pointers toward a colossal truth she might never reach or comprehend.