After breakfast, Bai Yuyou and Tang Keke headed off to school.
Since Ye Shuang hadn’t taken a shower the night before, he took the rare opportunity to soak in the tub in the morning. As he enjoyed the warmth of the water enveloping his body, he idly scrolled through the latest news on his phone.
“Hmm?” A familiar corporate name caught his attention. Ye Shuang took a closer look and realized it was Chen Qin’s company.
The company seemed to be embroiled in a controversy due to an HR representative’s attitude problem. Someone had secretly recorded the incident and uploaded it to short-video platforms, where it quickly went viral. This led to an influx of netizens flooding the company’s official accounts with insults. By the time the stock market closed the previous day, shares had dropped by 3%, wiping out over a dozen “small targets” (a colloquial term for hundreds of millions) from the company’s market value.
“A PR crisis?” Ye Shuang thought for a moment before dialing Chen Qin’s number.
“Morning, Ah Ye,” Chen Qin’s voice on the other end was lively and cheerful, tinged with amusement. “Miss me after just one day apart?”
“I was thinking about your company,” Ye Shuang replied. “Heard your group ran into some trouble? Something about an HR issue.”
“Huh?” Chen Qin responded. “Oh, you mean that HR thing?”
“Yeah.”
“That was ages ago. No idea where you dug that up from. Nowadays, these so-called ‘WeMedia’ types have nothing better to do than dredge up old news for clicks. Bloody nuisance.”
Hearing that it was just an old incident, Ye Shuang said, “Ah, got it. Never mind then. I’ll hang up.”
“Hey—!”
On the other end, in her office, Chen Qin stared at her phone as the call ended abruptly. Pouting, she jabbed her finger at Ye Shuang’s profile picture on the screen.
But then it occurred to her—Ye Shuang had called first thing in the morning to check on her company. That meant he cared about her, didn’t it?
With that thought, her mood instantly brightened.
One of Chen Qin’s greatest strengths was her ability to cheer herself up.
……
Meanwhile, Ye Shuang stepped out of the shower, drying his hair with a towel before plopping onto the sofa. He brewed himself a cup of coffee, took a short break, then settled in front of his computer to start the day’s work.
“Where did all my readers go?” He checked the backend data and noticed that his novel, which had been ranked first on the Urban Slice-of-Life New Releases chart, had now dropped to twelfth place—under the Urban Fantasy New Releases category.
Huh?
Ye Shuang messaged his editor and learned that his book had been reclassified from Slice-of-Life to Fantasy.
“I was doing just fine at the top of my original category. Why move me?” He glanced at his novel’s genre label and couldn’t help but grumble. “Or is my plot so outlandish that even the moderators think it’s fantasy instead of everyday life?”
“But this is my everyday life…” Ye Shuang sighed and resigned himself to finishing the day’s update.
The drop in rankings sapped his motivation to write. If only some readers would recommend his book or spread the word on short-video platforms.
But that seemed unlikely. He was just a no-name newbie author, after all, with no die-hard fans willing to go out of their way for him.
Ye Shuang scratched his head. Whatever.
Que sera, sera.
After updating his novel, he drove to the school.
As usual, he donned his white coat and sat in his chair, waiting for the usual troublemakers to show up. But the morning was unusually quiet—so much so that after an hour or two, Ye Shuang began to wonder if it was actually the weekend.
“She’s not here either.” He glanced at the bed behind him, where a certain ninja-like figure was conspicuously absent.
Not that he minded the peace. He sipped his tea and passed the time studying.
“You’re quite diligent,” a voice suddenly remarked from behind him.
Startled, Ye Shuang turned his head and found himself face-to-face with an elderly yet energetic man. He jolted. “Damn it, why do you never make any noise?!”
“You were just too focused,” Anshi Yilang said flatly.
Regaining his composure, Ye Shuang looked at the old man standing beside him and said, “Could you knock next time?”
“Hmph. Since when do I need to knock anywhere in this academy?” Anshi Yilang retorted with an air of self-importance.
Without missing a beat, Ye Shuang deadpanned, “The women’s changing room. Go ahead.”
Anshi Yilang stiffened but doubled down. “Same rules apply!”
Ye Shuang held up his phone, thumb raised. “Got it. Recording saved.”
“You little brat!”
Anshi Yilang couldn’t help but notice how much Ye Shuang’s infuriating tone resembled his granddaughter’s. Suppressing his temper, he glanced around and asked, “Where’s my Xiao Yu?”
“No idea.”
“She’s not here with you?”
“Why would she be?” Ye Shuang countered.
“Ever since this infirmary opened, she’s been here every single day. Don’t think I haven’t noticed!” Anshi Yilang huffed.
Ye Shuang thought about it. It was true—An Shiyu showed up at least two out of three days. But given her personality, her absence today wasn’t exactly surprising.
“Why not just text her?” Ye Shuang suggested.
“She blocked me.”
“Wow. What a stellar grandfather you are…”
“Nonsense! She’s just going through a rebellious phase!” Anshi Yilang insisted. “You have no idea how sweet and clingy she was as a kid. Always following me around, calling me ‘Grandpa’ in that adorable voice.”
Ye Shuang’s lips twitched. He had a hard time picturing the sharp-tongued An Shiyu as the sweet little girl the old man described.
“Following you around calling you ‘old fossil’ sounds more like it,” he muttered under his breath.
Suddenly, Ye Shuang’s expression turned serious. “Old man, you know I’m decent at medicine, right?”
Anshi Yilang gave him a measured look and nodded.
“I think An Shiyu might have a heart condition. You should take her to the hospital for a thorough check-up.” Recalling the congenital heart disease he’d noticed before, Ye Shuang felt compelled to warn him.
To his surprise, Anshi Yilang didn’t react with shock. Instead, his brow furrowed deeply, and he fixed Ye Shuang with an intense stare.
“Old man—”
“She’s not sick!” Anshi Yilang suddenly snapped, his tone uncharacteristically stern. “You don’t need to worry about that!”
Ye Shuang was taken aback. The old man’s reaction puzzled him. Did Anshi Yilang already know? Then why insist she was fine?
Since when was a heart condition something you could just deny?
“I really think—”
“Enough.” Anshi Yilang cut him off with a wave. “Since Xiao Yu isn’t here, I’ll be going.”
Without another word, he turned and strode out, leaving Ye Shuang utterly bewildered.