Volume One, Chapter 57: Conquest

To avoid unnecessary misunderstandings and trouble, Song Qingyu promptly explained.
“Yes, but the other party mistook me for someone else.”
“Is that so?”
Lu Rongrong eyed Song Qingyu with suspicion, her attitude doubtful. It was simply because Song Qingyu was so beautiful—indeed, the term “first love” suited her perfectly.
“It’s true.”
Song Qingyu’s response was neither humble nor arrogant, her face betraying no guilt, nor any excitement at being called the prince’s first love.
Only then did Lu Rongrong say nothing more and entered the president’s office.

Gu Yundong.
A scion of the capital’s elite circle.
Whether by family background or personal achievements, he was the most outstanding figure in all of the capital.
If she were to marry, it would be to a man like him.

He wore a black suit, and a silver mask which made him appear tall and mysterious.
“Mr. Gu, would I be fortunate enough to invite you to lunch?”
Having grown up abroad, influenced by foreign culture, Lu Rongrong was bold, distinct, and went after what she wanted.
At the prince’s welcome banquet, her interest in this untouchable man had already been piqued.
Seeing that he hadn’t come looking for her, she took the initiative to seek him out.
“Sorry, Miss Lu, I’m very busy and don’t have time to have lunch with you.”
Anyone else, faced with Gu Yundong’s cold rejection, would have left in anger or embarrassment, their pride wounded.
But Lu Rongrong was no ordinary woman.
Today, she wore a red spaghetti-strap gown, elegant yet relaxed.
With a proud stride, she walked over and sat on his desk, her slender fingers pressing onto the documents in front of Gu Yundong.
Her gaze was seductive, ambiguous as she looked at the man opposite her. “No matter how busy you are, there’s always time to eat, isn’t there?”

Pei Jingmo looked at Lu Rongrong coldly, his face devoid of expression. “Get down.”
Lu Rongrong’s face stiffened; she hadn’t expected Gu Yundong to be so uncooperative.
Or perhaps he was playing hard to get.
Under his sharp and unyielding gaze, she awkwardly got down from the desk.
“Mr. Gu, your family must have introduced me to you, right? Aren’t you the least bit curious about me?”
“They did. I hear Miss Lu is fluent in eight languages, skilled in chess, music, calligraphy, and painting?”
Pei Jingmo leaned back in his chair, his gaze meaningful as he looked at Lu Rongrong, as if he could see right through her. The pressure was almost irresistible.
“You don’t believe it?”
“I believe it. But what does that have to do with me?”
“I am the only woman in this world who can match you.”

“I admit Miss Lu is outstanding, but what I want is a soulmate, not someone who speaks to me in eight languages every night and only talks about art and music.”
Such an obvious rejection made Lu Rongrong’s expression darken instantly.
“Is your refusal because of the first love you can never have?”
Pei Jingmo’s gaze was icy and terrifying. “Miss Lu, you’re well-informed.”
Lu Rongrong made no attempt to hide her intentions. “You’re the man I’ve chosen, of course I’ll pay attention to you.”
“I refuse you simply because I don’t like you. It has nothing to do with anyone else. Secretary He, see her out!”
He Shubai immediately entered, gesturing politely to the sullen Lu Rongrong. “Miss Lu, please…”
Lu Rongrong gritted her teeth, then suddenly smiled with interest. “Gu Yundong, you’ve successfully awakened my desire to conquer. Just wait—one day, I’ll make you love me desperately!”
Pei Jingmo: “…”
She may not be much to look at, but her bravado is something else.

One wave had barely settled before another arose.
But compared to these matters, what troubled Pei Jingmo most was how to coax his wife to come home first.
However, good news travels slowly while bad news spreads like wildfire.
The rumor that Lu Rongrong, heiress to the Lu Group, was to be the future Mrs. President, spread through the entire Tianqi Group in the blink of an eye.
Even the staff on the twelfth floor were gossiping enthusiastically.
“The Lu heiress is really beautiful—I just saw her downstairs. My god, she’s like a goddess, a perfect match for our Mr. Gu.”
“Lu Group and Tianqi Group joining forces—will we get flight discounts in the future?”
“I heard Mr. Gu had a first love. Could it be Miss Lu?”
“The domineering CEO and the heiress returned from abroad—I ship this couple already.”
Hearing the chatter, Xie Changhe glanced nervously at Song Qingyu.
Sure enough, Song Qingyu’s face had darkened—she was clearly jealous.
“Alright, enough gossip, back to work. If Mr. Gu is really getting married, he’ll tell us himself. No wild guesses.”

No sooner had he finished than a deliveryman came in. “Who is Miss Song Qingyu?”
Song Qingyu raised her hand. “That’s me.”
The deliveryman handed her a bouquet of gardenias and a delicate paper bag.
Opening it, Song Qingyu found her favorite matcha cake and a cup of mango sago.
There was a note attached, the handwriting a messy scrawl—clearly Pei Jingmo’s.
After some time, Song Qingyu had finally learned to decipher his writing, albeit barely.
“Will you come home tonight? I’ll pick you up.”
Xie Changhe had been watching Song Qingyu, guessing that the delivery was from Mr. Gu.
But the situation didn’t seem promising.
Suddenly, Song Qingyu walked over to him, and he straightened up, pretending to know nothing.
“Manager Xie…”

“Yes, Qingyu? Is something wrong?”
“Thank you for looking after me all this time. Please, have this little cake.”
Xie Changhe: “!!!”
This was the afternoon tea Mr. Gu had sent her—if he ate it, wouldn’t Mr. Gu kill him?
It felt less like dessert and more like a fatal poison, ready to send him to the afterlife at any moment.
He waved his hands frantically. “No, no need, I don’t like sweets.”
Song Qingyu was surprised. “But at the last celebration, you ate several pieces of cake.”
Xie Changhe: “It’s just that I had too much then, and now I’m sick of it. I don’t want any more.”
Noticing his embarrassment, Song Qingyu assumed he simply didn’t want others to know he liked sweets, lest it undermine his managerial dignity.
She placed the bag discreetly on his desk. “Don’t worry, no one saw me come in.”
As Song Qingyu left, Xie Changhe reached out impulsively, wanting to call her back, but she had already closed the door considerately.
Xie Changhe: “…”
Song Qingyu was in no mood for cake, but since it was bought already, she couldn’t just throw it away. So she gave it to Xie Changhe, not realizing how much inner turmoil she’d caused him.

—

Recently, Song Qingyu had been staying at Xie Liuzheng’s place after work.
When Chu Xingzhi found out, he was overjoyed, feeling as though his chances had revived.
He timed her off-work hour and waited for her.
“Qingyu—”
Seeing Chu Xingzhi, Song Qingyu’s mood worsened. She ignored him and headed toward her residential complex.
But Chu Xingzhi suddenly grabbed her arm.
Song Qingyu shook him off coldly. “What do you want now?”
The person he loved most now looked at him with such impatience—Chu Xingzhi was hurt.
He lowered his eyes to hide his sadness. “I’m not here to gloat. I was just worried about you and wanted to see you.”
“No need!”
Song Qingyu had no desire to get entangled with him, but Chu Xingzhi took her hand and handed her a bag.
“Grandma’s out of the hospital. She made your favorite chestnut pastries and asked me to bring them to you.”
Not giving her a chance to refuse, he added quickly, “It’s fine if you hate me—you should—but don’t let Grandma’s effort go to waste. She made these especially for you.”
The bag in Song Qingyu’s hand felt unusually heavy. She was about to speak when she suddenly caught sight of Pei Jingmo at the entrance to the complex.
She didn’t know how long he had been standing there, but he simply watched them in silence, his face indistinct in the dim light.