The pushover offended a top-tier boss

With the dean and department heads lining up to see her off, Ye Zhenzhen was finally able to leave.

The black Audi merged into the nighttime traffic.

On the way back, Ye Zhenzhen remained silent.

The main issue is that Taisha just died...

She stared blankly out the window.

Suddenly I realized a problem: this wasn't the way to work.

"Boss, it seems we need to turn left to get to the office..."

Zhou Huaijin didn't look at her, his gaze still fixed on the road ahead, and said in a calm tone: "If you want to go back to your unit, you can turn back now."

Ye Zhenzhen was taken aback for a moment, then quickly waved her hand: "Hehe, that's not what I meant..."

Who wants to work overtime?

She silently added a sentence in her mind and obediently shut her mouth.

The car fell silent again. She continued looking out the window.

Then she discovered a problem.

"Boss, my home is... in that direction."

He's driving in the direction of his home.

Zhou Huaijin turned the steering wheel with one hand, and the car smoothly turned into a narrower street. The streetlights shone through the car window onto his face, but his expression remained unchanged.

"Your clothes are still with me," he said.

Ye Zhenzhen opened her mouth, then closed it again.

Her clothes.

How did her sweater and underwear—those soaking wet old clothes she had taken off—end up with him?

She closed her eyes, and the scene from that day began to replay in her mind.

She was rescued from the ice, soaking wet and numb with cold. She changed out of her wet clothes and wrapped herself in his coat.

Did he collect those wet clothes himself, or did someone else collect them?

She didn't dare to think about it anymore.

Her face started to burn again.

The embarrassment they've caused each day is enough to fill an "Encyclopedia of Social Demise".

The car was parked at the entrance of Yuyuan.

The red brick house stood quietly in the night, a warm yellow light shining in the yard, and the light inside the house could be seen through the window, gentle and quiet.

Zhou Huaijin got out of the car, and Ye Zhenzhen followed behind him, stepping on the stone-paved path, crossing the courtyard, and walking to the front door.

The door opened.

The entryway light is motion-activated; it turns on as soon as they enter.

Ye Zhenzhen stood at the door, hesitated for a moment, and didn't dare to go in.

A corner of the living room unfolded before her. It was large, decorated in an understated yet undeniably expensive style. Dark solid wood floors, light gray walls, and simple, uncluttered furniture. A traditional Chinese ink painting hung on the wall; she couldn't identify the artist, but its artistic flair was unlike anything found in ordinary decorative paintings.

The whole house was spotless, and the air was filled with the aroma of food, as if someone had just cooked there.

"You're here? I just finished cooking." A gentle female voice came from the direction of the kitchen.

Ye Zhenzhen saw a woman in her fifties come out of the kitchen, wearing a plain apron, her hair neatly tied up, and she looked very kind.

The auntie held a pair of cotton slippers in her hand, bent down and placed them beside Ye Zhenzhen's feet: "Girl, change into these shoes, they're new."

"Thank you, Auntie." Ye Zhenzhen quickly changed her shoes, her movements a little hurried.

"Auntie, I'm here to pick up something—" she explained.

"The clothes, right?" The aunt smiled and straightened up. "My husband had me pack them a while ago, they're upstairs. You should eat first. My husband said you haven't had dinner yet because you've been working overtime, so I made a few extra dishes."

Ye Zhenzhen subconsciously looked at Zhou Huaijin.

He had already changed into slippers and was taking off his coat. After taking off the coat, he casually draped it over the coat rack in the entryway, revealing a light gray cashmere sweater. Standing in the warm yellow light, he looked less serious and cold in the office and more relaxed and at home.

"Sit down and eat."

He said it in a low tone.

But it is equivalent to an order and must be executed.

The aunt chimed in, "Young lady, your husband specifically told me you have menstrual cramps, so I made some ginger and brown sugar water. Drink it while it's hot to warm yourself up."

Ye Zhenzhen felt a warmth in her heart, but also a little flustered.

"Thank you, Auntie," she said, then looked at Zhou Huaijin, hesitated for a moment, and said, "Boss, I—"

She wanted to say, "My boyfriend is still waiting for me at home."

But the words stuck in his throat.

Because Zhou Huaijin had already turned and walked towards the restaurant, his posture clearly saying: Follow me.

She is the kind of person who doesn't dare to refuse or say no.

The dining area is to the right of the living room, with a rectangular solid wood dining table on which several dishes have already been set.

Steamed sea bass, enoki mushrooms and sliced ​​beef, a bowl of blanched bok choy, a plate of sweet and sour pork ribs, and a small pot of white rice.

Every dish was arranged neatly, even the direction of the chopsticks was correct.

The aunt came over with a bowl of brown sugar ginger water and placed it next to Ye Zhenzhen: "Girl, drink this first, it'll warm your stomach."

"Thank you, Auntie." Ye Zhenzhen held the bowl with both hands, lowered her head and took a sip. The ginger flavor was strong, and the sweetness of the brown sugar neutralized the spiciness of the ginger. The warmth traveled all the way to her stomach, and her lower abdomen also felt warm.

She was indeed hungry. From noon until now, she had only eaten a few mouthfuls of porridge and a few bites of vegetables, and after a whole night at the hospital, her stomach was completely empty. Now, smelling the aroma of food, her stomach let out a disapproving growl.

She quickly lowered her head, pretending nothing had happened.

Zhou Huaijin had already taken his seat in the main seat, picked up his chopsticks, and took a piece of fish.

Ye Zhenzhen sat down opposite him and picked up her chopsticks.

The two people sat across the table, eating quietly.

The restaurant was quiet, with only the soft sound of chopsticks touching bowls and plates, and the sound of water from the kitchen where the aunt was washing dishes in the distance.

Ye Zhenzhen lowered her head and ate bite by bite. The sea bass was very fresh, with tender flesh, and steamed to perfection. The broth from the enoki mushrooms and beef was rich and flavorful, and tasted especially delicious with rice. Before she knew it, she had eaten a large bowl of rice.

The man across from me continued eating at a leisurely pace.

But she was still thinking about getting home quickly, because Meng Chen was still waiting for her.

She quickly ate two bites and then put down her chopsticks.

"Boss, I'm full, thank you for the meal."

She stood up and gently pushed the chair back into its original position.

"Then I'll be going now."

Zhou Huaijin put down his chopsticks and glanced at her.

"Okay, be careful."

His voice was calm, without any extra words. It was as if her coming to eat and her leaving were just ordinary things.

Ye Zhenzhen nodded and turned to walk out.

The aunt came out of the kitchen, carrying a paper bag, and handed it to her: "Girl, I've washed, dried, and folded all your clothes."

Ye Zhenzhen took the paper bag, glanced down at it, and saw the sweater and underwear she had worn that day, neatly folded and clean.

"Thank you, Auntie..."

The aunt saw her to the door and opened it for her.

"Miss, I am Mr. Zhou's nanny. He doesn't like to be disturbed. I just come here regularly to cook and clean."

"Young lady, come visit more often when you have time. A home thrives when it's filled with people. Your husband has been alone for so many years—"

"Auntie," Ye Zhenzhen quickly interrupted her, her voice a little hurried, "I'm just his subordinate."

The aunt smiled and didn't say anything more.

Ye Zhenzhen, carrying the paper bag, quickly walked out of the yard.

On her way home in a taxi, she leaned against the window, gazing blankly at the night view outside.

The taxi was playing radio music; it was an old song with a familiar melody, but she couldn't remember the name.

She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes.

My mind was a mess, and then I suddenly remembered what my aunt had said: "The gentleman is still single after all these years."

Is Zhou Huaijin still single at 33? Or is she divorced?

Oh dear, what does all this have to do with me?

She shook her head vigorously, trying to banish these chaotic thoughts.