Chapter Nine: Urgent Notice

She walked into the living room, her gaze involuntarily sweeping over the “home” where she had lived for nearly two months.

Her eyes first settled on the enormous off-white fabric sofa. She had always found it incredibly comfortable to sit on, with just the right balance of support and enveloping softness. At that moment, driven by an inexplicable impulse, she crouched down and lifted the corner of the draped sofa cover, peering into the inconspicuous corner beneath—the usual spot for brand labels.

A small metallic plaque with gilded lettering came into view. It bore a few minimalist English letters: B&B Italia. Beneath it, in smaller print, read: Made in Italy.

Made in Italy? B&B Italia? She vaguely recalled seeing this brand in a design magazine—a top-tier international furniture designer, where even a single armchair could fetch a fortune! She had previously thought Zhao Chen was simply tasteful and the landlord generous in furnishing the apartment. Now, she realized this was far beyond mere generosity.

She stood up, her eyes drifting toward the sleek white round coffee table. Its surface was as smooth as a mirror, with a warm texture. She reached out and touched it; the cool, delicate feel was reminiscent of jade. Could it be marble? She crouched again to examine the leg joint and found another subtle metal plaque: Cassina. Another premier Italian furniture brand!

Yu Ling felt her understanding of this place rapidly transform. Like a spellbound treasure hunter, she began combing through the house.

On the kitchen island was the white enameled cast iron pot she used daily, the underside of its lid engraved with an elegant crown emblem—Le Creuset! A top French cookware brand! She had always thought the stew she made in that pot was especially fragrant and well-sealed; it was no illusion.

Inside the cabinets, a seemingly ordinary set of white bone china bore a slender, graceful blue crown insignia on the underside—Bernardaud! A French national treasure porcelain brand! She had always found those bowls remarkably appetizing for serving rice…

Opening the fridge revealed neatly arranged organic vegetables, imported fruits, premium Wagyu beef, and mineral water bottles adorned with foreign labels (VOSS? Evian?). Until now, she had just thought Zhao Chen valued quality living, but this level of refinement was extraordinary.

Her gaze passed over a frosted glass vase with fresh tulips on the entryway cabinet. Its sleek, minimalist form bore no brand marks, yet its texture and design were far from supermarket fare. There was also the linen-shaded floor reading lamp, and the abstract linear art on the wall she had always taken for mere decoration… Beneath her feet, the smooth warmth of the wooden floor.

The more she looked, the more astonished she became, and the deeper her doubts grew. Everything in this home—from the toiletries to the cookware, from the sofa and coffee table to the slippers at her feet, even the water she drank daily—seemed steeped in a quiet luxury! Zhao Chen had woven these items seamlessly into everyday life under the pretext of “left by the landlord,” “gifts from friends,” or “bargains picked up here and there,” allowing her, an “ordinary employee,” to unknowingly enjoy a life of top-tier material comfort.

This was not just a cozy rented apartment. It was a fortress of luxury cloaked in the guise of normalcy, built from the finest brands.

And the master of this fortress…

Yu Ling spun around sharply, her eyes fixed on the open kitchen. Zhao Chen stood with his back to her, wearing a deep blue apron adorned with little whales. He hummed an off-key tune as he skillfully and gracefully sliced a fresh cucumber with a gleaming chef’s knife that clearly cost a fortune. The cutting board before him was a thick slab of dark wood, its grain so beautiful it resembled a work of art. (Yu Ling would later learn it was a handcrafted black walnut board worth half her wardrobe.) Beside him stood a bottle of olive oil, its label printed with Italian text and an estate emblem she couldn’t decipher.

“Lingling? Daydreaming?” Zhao Chen seemed to notice her gaze and turned around, still holding the sharp knife. A gentle, harmless smile played on his lips, and his clear amber eyes looked especially innocent in the morning light. “Are you hungry? What do you want for breakfast? A fried egg sandwich? Or should I make you a soft-boiled egg?”

His tone was naturally intimate, like the most ordinary husband asking his wife’s breakfast preference. Sunlight bathed him, casting a soft golden edge around his tall figure. Wearing a cartoon apron and wielding a top-tier chef’s knife in a kitchen worth a fortune, he asked whether she wanted fried or soft-boiled eggs…

The scene was absurdly incongruous.

Yu Ling’s heart hammered wildly in her chest. The enormous mystery she had forcibly suppressed erupted like a waking volcano. She could no longer hold back; she had to ask.

She took a deep breath, forcing her voice to sound calm, though the slight quiver at the end betrayed the storm within. Pointing toward the bathroom, she cut straight to the point:

“Zhao Chen, the things in the bathroom cabinet… La Mer, La Prairie… and the sofa in the living room, B&B Italia? The pot in the kitchen, Le Creuset? Are these… really left by the landlord? Or… gifts from friends?”

Zhao Chen paused mid-slice. He set down the knife and turned to face her directly. Sunlight streamed through the vast floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating his gentle face. His amber eyes reflected the shock, suspicion, and inquiry plainly etched on Yu Ling’s expression.

He did not answer immediately, only gazing at her serenely, as if he had long anticipated this day. The silence stretched on, thick with the aroma of food.

Suddenly, Yu Ling’s phone rang! The sharp ringtone shattered the frozen atmosphere.

Startled, she instinctively grabbed her phone. It was an urgent group message from the company’s project team chat!

[Director Chen Ming]: @everyone Urgent notice! In thirty minutes, an expanded emergency meeting for the “Starsea Project” team will be held in the 17th-floor large conference room! All members of the Marketing Department, and key leads from Product and Technical Departments must attend on time! No absences allowed! This is of utmost importance!

Following was a bold, red exclamation mark.

Yu Ling’s heart sank. Something had gone wrong with the project! An emergency expanded meeting at this hour could only mean trouble! She had no time to probe the source of Zhao Chen’s luxurious belongings. Her professional instincts snapped on like a switch.

“There’s an emergency at work! I have to go right now!” she said rapidly to Zhao Chen, then turned and rushed toward the bedroom to change.

“Wait!” Zhao Chen’s voice came urgently from behind.

Yu Ling stopped and looked back, puzzled.

Zhao Chen quickly strode to the entryway cabinet, opened a drawer—the one where the Maserati keys lay casually tossed—and pulled out another car key, this one bearing a shield-shaped emblem with wings—the Bentley logo. Without a glance, he pressed the key into Yu Ling’s hand, his tone unprecedentedly serious and commanding:

“Take my car. It’s rush hour; taxis will be stuck, and the subway won’t get you there in time.” His words came fast, his gaze sharp and unwavering. “The key’s yours. The car’s parked in spot 18 in Section B downstairs—a black sedan. Drive carefully! Call me if anything happens!”

Yu Ling stared at the heavy, exquisitely designed Bentley key in her palm, then at Zhao Chen’s stern, unyielding expression. Her mind spun in confusion. Bentley? He wanted her to drive a Bentley to work? This was a hundred times more shocking than the revelation of all those luxury items.

“I… I don’t know how to drive…” she blurted, her voice faltering. Driving a multi-million luxury car? She wouldn’t even dare touch it.

“It’s automatic, just like any ordinary car,” Zhao Chen cut her off, his tone decisive and commanding, radiating the authority of a superior, utterly unlike his usual gentle, harmless “ordinary employee” self. “Don’t dawdle! Go now! Even being one minute late could jeopardize everything!” He flung open the front door and gently pushed the still-dazed Yu Ling outside.

The door slammed shut behind her.

Yu Ling stood alone in the silent corridor, clutching the Bentley key that symbolized immense wealth and a deep mystery. The cold metal edges bit into her palm. Below, the sleek, understatedly luxurious black Bentley Mulsanne waited quietly in its reserved spot, number 18 in Section B.

The unknown urgent company meeting loomed over her like a dark cloud.

The Bentley key in her hand felt like a red-hot iron brand.

Behind the closed door, the man in the little whale apron—the iceberg beneath his gentle exterior—seemed finally to have revealed a terrifying glimpse to her.

Yu Ling drew a deep breath; the cold corridor air filled her lungs. She glanced at the glaring meeting notification on her phone, then down at the heavy key in her palm.

There was no time to hesitate.

Clenching her jaw as if marching onto a battlefield, she turned and dashed toward the elevator. The sharp click of her heels echoed through the empty corridor—urgent, resolute.