Besides mentioning “Brother Wolf” to her close friends, Zhou Mi had also defined Zhang Lian as a “crush” in her heart.

A crush, as generally described, is a kind of rapid infatuation. It’s brief but sufficiently heart-stirring, like an exploding firework, a butterfly skimming over water, plants growing swiftly then quickly withering away. In short, it’s a beautiful and sophisticated term, and it also perfectly describes how Zhang Lian made her feel.

Back then, Zhang Lian wasn’t her boss, but her regular sexual partner.

Back then, Zhou Mi was still a graduate student, having just broken up with her engineering boyfriend.

But each time they met, the “feeling of being loved” that Zhang Lian gave Zhou Mi was far greater than what her ex-boyfriend had provided. His desire was sincere, his emotions intense. He could switch effortlessly between being a scoundrel and a gentleman, could break her down into beautiful words, incorporating her into some fairy tale or poetry collection. She was the rebellious heroine who could make faces at the magic mirror, could take off her shoes and prop up her feet in the pumpkin carriage, yet the prince would always love her.

After daybreak, this enchantment that filled one with deep affection and caused the heart to flutter wouldn’t immediately disappear.

The prince would bend down to kiss her goodbye.

In her drowsy state, the man’s light peck felt like a dream, yet it was exceptionally difficult to part with, enough to make her believe it was real and generate an illusion—that he would return home in the afternoon or evening, bringing a bouquet of flowers.

But in reality, the moment the door closed, the book cover shut, and her halo dissipated.

This was why Zhou Mi always felt let down afterward.

Especially after returning from the hotel for the first time, she was uncontrollably excited for half an hour, then sat despondently in her dormitory for an entire afternoon, unable to summon enthusiasm for anything. It felt like being in a windswept tunnel; her previous dissatisfaction and confusion about the breakup had completely vanished, replaced by a more secretive and vast emptiness.

“I miss him so much, yet I can’t say a word to him.”

By the third day, she finally couldn’t resist and confessed everything to her friend in a voice message.

Her friend was initially surprised, shocked by her uninhibited behavior, but later offered an analysis: “Could it be that because you just broke up and urgently needed to transfer your emotions, and he happened to come along at the right time, so you’re using him as a distraction?”

Zhou Mi sighed: “Then it’s a heaven-sent distraction!”

Her friend clicked her tongue: “Is he that good in that aspect? Lu Ming wasn’t bad either, right?”

Zhou Mi gave a forced smile: “In comparison, Lu Ming is just needlework.”

Her friend doubled over with laughter at her harshness.

Of course, this was just the beginning.

After the second, third, fourth time… Zhou Mi gradually adapted, gradually became accustomed. After a night, she no longer sighed and lamented, repeatedly telling her friend how wonderful Brother Wolf was, regretting why she hadn’t been more demanding initially, instead timidly choosing the once-a-month arrangement.

This secret affair became a bonus in her arduous student life, and the 15th was given special meaning, elevated to her favorite date.

She never missed it, becoming crazy and addicted. Meeting monthly, she would cling to him constantly if she could, even researching works from various countries for reference and learning, striving for perfection.

After all, pleasing him was also pleasing herself.

Once, she whispered in his ear: “Let me tell you a secret, my computer got infected with a virus.”

The man raised his thick eyebrows slightly, clearly feigning ignorance: “How did it get infected?”

She murmured three words like a mosquito.

He laughed upon hearing it, but then his expression became serious, no different from those strict professors at the podium: “If you want to learn something, I’ll teach you.”

Zhou Mi forcefully tapped his chest four times, gritting her teeth: “You. Know. So. Much?”

He grasped her hand, looking at her innocently: “Then will you teach me?”

……

Zhou Mi thought this nighttime ecstasy would last for a long time.

She even named it “The Mysterious Lover”—wasn’t this like a high-scoring art film? Whenever she thought of it this way, she felt somewhat secretly delighted and proud.

However, heaven always mischievously likes to pry open the eyelids of those who are overly intoxicated, letting the sunlight of reality pierce through.

That was the day after she received her Ao Xing offer.

The position Zhou Mi applied for was AE (Account Executive). This well-known 4A advertising agency had somewhat lofty and strict conditions for hiring interns, only accepting undergraduates or graduate students from 211 or 985 universities, with priority given to juniors or above.

This time, Ao Xing only had two intern positions, one in the client department and one in creative.

It was truly a case of too many wolves, too little meat.

After much consideration, Zhou Mi applied for the former.

With the buff of a prestigious university and her quick wit during the interview, Zhou Mi stood out.

She wasn’t surprised. Because as she was leaving, the youngest HR person among them called out to her, and they added each other on WeChat.

She curiously asked in a low voice: “Is this some kind of hint that I passed?”

“This is flirting,” the man smiled, revealing a set of pearly white teeth. “Even if we don’t hire you, I want to stay in touch with you.”

Zhou Mi’s eyes widened slightly, inwardly exclaiming, “impressive.”

The next morning, when she reported to the company, she coincidentally met him in the elevator.

The man was holding a paper cup of coffee, wearing a smoke-gray mandarin collar T-shirt, paired with thin glasses, giving him a somewhat refined yet slightly rebellious look.

His persona was consistent with the day before, with a natural familiarity, greeting Zhou Mi: “Hello, Zhou Mi.”

Then pushing the coffee in his hand closer: “Want some coffee? I haven’t touched it yet.”

“No need,” Zhou Mi smiled, her pursed lips appearing somewhat restrained. “Thank you.”

He curved his eyes, his gaze wandering over her face and upper body for two seconds, implicitly scrutinizing and assessing, but so quickly there was no time to feel offended: “The pattern on your canvas bag is very unique.”

“Ah?” Zhou Mi’s face heated slightly, looking down at the canvas bag under her armpit that he pointed out. On it was a doodle from her university club days, inspired by Alice in Wonderland—a full face of playing cards, with an embedded rabbit with a craggy face, wearing a pocket watch with a speech bubble, making unfriendly “bahbah” sounds.

Zhou Mi realized and quickly explained: “It’s just something I randomly drew in college.”

The man’s praise was gentle and nurturing: “You should go into creative; otherwise your talent would be wasted.”

Zhou Mi didn’t know how to respond, her finger joints tensing to the point of slight twitching.

He waited momentarily, ending the topic and introducing himself: “Let’s get acquainted. My name is Zhang Jue.”

Zhou Mi secretly let out a breath, glancing at him: “Zhou Mi. I think you already know that.”

Zhang Jue smiled, about to speak, when there was a “ding” in front of them. The elevator arrived at the first floor, the silver metal doors opening unhurriedly to either side.

The current Zhou Mi would call it Pandora’s Box, an epic dramatic unveiling, an absurdly bad ending.

But at that moment, her brain flashed with white light, followed by a volcanic eruption, ball lightning, hurricane blizzard, various natural disasters taking turns, completely robbing her of her ability to think.

Standing in the elevator was none other than her mysterious lover.

He was tall and conspicuous, wearing a white shirt, one hand casually in his pocket. His expression was originally relaxed, drifting, but in the next second after their eyes met, his gaze focused, generating a subtle pressure—that was emotion at work.

The emotion was difficult to discern, but Zhou Mi could tell from the subtle changes in his pupils that he had recognized her and seemed not particularly pleased to encounter her here.

Complex feelings surged up, wrapping her in a thin film of weightlessness, completely isolated from her surroundings.

Then, her confusion was pierced in an instant, the truth flooding out, pouring down like a deluge—torrential, suffocating, catching her off guard.

She heard Zhang Jue beside her greeting him normally:

“Morning, boss.”

—

Zhou Mi could no longer remember how she had walked into that elevator, crossing paths with him that day.

After all, under extreme stimulation, people tend to selectively forget certain details of their experiences.

But for the entire day afterward, she practically split herself into two parts: one responsible for dealing with HR arrangements, meeting department colleagues, and being claimed by her leader; the other part racking her brains over how to handle this accident, how to gracefully end her relationship with Brother Wolf.

After settling in, Zhou Mi sat at her assigned workstation. She looked around briefly, then began searching for more information about Ao Xing, adding other keywords like “general manager” and “management.”

As if peering into a secret realm, Zhou Mi’s heart pounded, her keystrokes sounding furtive and nervous.

She discovered several industry accounts that often published news about the advertising circle, such as upper management personnel changes or excellent brand cases.

In one news article, the man’s half-body photo was prominently displayed. His outstanding resume was briefly summarized in a paragraph, ultimately fixing on his current position—Yidu Ao Xing Managing Director: Zhang Lian.

The portrait had a black and white quality, the camera angle slightly low. The man in a black suit, with a high nose and deep eyes, had features not at all inferior to male celebrities, and could even be directly used for magazine inner pages or covers.

But his expression wasn’t friendly; on the contrary, it was rather arrogant and distant, more similar to what she had just seen in the elevator.

Zhou Mi was brought to a boil, her heart rate reaching its peak.

She quickly minimized the window and closed it before she could scream like boiling water.

“What to do when you discover on your first day that your company’s BOSS is your casual sex partner??!!”—This kind of title would get impressive clicks if posted in a group or forum.

In the past, when coming across similar posts, Zhou Mi was mostly disdainful, clearly thinking they were made up by writers to get traffic. But looking at her situation today, she could only bow down to fate’s practical joke.

Her long-awaited first experience as a corporate slave was overshadowed by anxiety. Zhou Mi was uneasy all day, sometimes agitated, sometimes floating, like standing on tiptoe at the edge of a rooftop.

Not to the point of wanting to die.

Just surprised, shocked, uneasy, and regretful with a rather delayed reaction.

The regret stemmed from knowing that Brother Wolf would no longer contact her, and she would no longer contact him.

What else could she do? Send him a startled message? “Wow, you’re my boss, what a surprise!”?

She certainly didn’t want to be the one breaking their agreement.

Of course, this didn’t mean she didn’t have a slight expectation of him, expecting him to take the initiative to acknowledge their secret connection, giving both parties a humane exit.

The result was obvious. Throughout the entire day, until closing time, she didn’t receive any message from Zhang Lian.

She had anticipated this.

Walking out of the building, the changing neon lights were like the city’s alternately warm and cold eyes. Zhou Mi cooled down in the wind and thoroughly realized: she didn’t need to consider any closing method at all. No response was the best response.

From the moment they truly recognized each other, they had already become strangers.

The fairy tale was sealed away.

The prince wasn’t a prince at all.

But a sovereign with the power of life and death.