Chapter 17: Midnight Intelligence

It seemed someone possessed an uncanny awareness of her predicament, because the very next day Xia Chan received a text message notification about a package delivery awaiting collection. She initially assumed Zhou Lan had indulged her online shopping addiction again, probably using Xia Chan's account to purchase more dubious "antiques" from unreliable internet vendors. With barely a thought, she simply instructed the delivery person to bring everything upstairs and have Zhou Lan sign for whatever treasures she'd acquired this time.

When she finally returned home that evening, she discovered a sophisticated black dress draped artfully over the sofa like a sleeping panther, and several pristine cardboard boxes stacked on the floor beside it with the careful precision of luxury packaging. Xia Chan glanced at the designer logos emblazoned on the boxes and felt her breath catch with startled recognition.

Zhou Lan emerged from the bedroom at that moment, leaning casually against the wall with studied nonchalance before extending one leg in theatrical display. "Does it look good?"

Xia Chan's gaze dropped to her roommate's feet—a pair of elegant low-cut black high heels, presumably included with the dress as part of some coordinated ensemble.

"Your feet are so ridiculously wide," Xia Chan observed with characteristic bluntness. "Didn't you break the shoes just trying to squeeze into them?"

Zhou Lan released a scoff of pure indignation, kicked off the offending footwear with perhaps more violence than necessary, and walked barefoot to the sofa where she plopped down with zero grace. "Who sent all this expensive stuff to you anyway?"

"An insurance salesman." The lie emerged smooth and practiced.

"What kind of insurance salesman possesses this kind of wealth?" Zhou Lan's skepticism was palpable.

"You certainly didn't raise such philosophical questions last time when you complained endlessly about someone giving you a Volvo—you thought they were being stingy and cheap." Xia Chan lifted the dress with careful hands and held the fabric up against herself, evaluating the fit in the mirror's reflection.

Zhou Lan grew visibly agitated, seemingly determined through sheer force of personality to pry that mysterious benefactor's name from Xia Chan's guarded lips. "Tell me the truth right now. Did you actually find someone? Some man providing all these gifts? Was it someone from your company?"

Xia Chan ignored the interrogation entirely, instead trying on the shoes again with focused attention. They fit absolutely perfectly, as if custom-made for her specific measurements. The leather quality was exceptional—supple and soft beneath her exploring fingers—and undoubtedly expensive enough to represent a month of her previous salary.

"I'm asking you a direct question! The least you could do is acknowledge my existence!"

Xia Chan reluctantly removed the shoes and turned to pose a seemingly unrelated query to Zhou Lan. "Are your cheongsams still stored somewhere? The ones you used to wear?"

"Don't even think about commandeering my cheongsams for your purposes!" Zhou Lan's voice rose with protective fervor. "Let me tell you something important—they're all made of authentic Yun brocade, traditional craftsmanship. One single set is worth more than these three designer pieces of yours combined!"

Xia Chan genuinely hadn't known about the value. "So expensive? Well then, we absolutely can't let them go to waste gathering dust, especially since you can't wear them anymore anyway due to your expanded waistline."

Zhou Lan appeared on the verge of actual physical collapse from rage, pointing an accusatory finger while launching into an elaborate tirade that combined genuine fury with performative outrage.

Xia Chan paid absolutely no attention to the theatrical display. She carefully packed her dress, shoes, jewelry, and coordinating handbag back into their original boxes with meticulous attention to preservation, then composed a message to He Huaisheng.

Zhou Lan immediately attempted to peek at the phone screen. "Wang Fugui from Ping An Insurance..."

Xia Chan quickly concealed her phone behind her back with the reflexes of someone accustomed to guarding secrets, then turned and headed toward the bedroom's relative privacy.

Zhou Lan muttered to the empty room, her voice carrying bewilderment and calculation in equal measure. "...Are insurance salesmen really this financially lucrative these days? Have I chosen the wrong profession entirely?"

A moment later, Xia Chan's phone vibrated with He Huaisheng's reply: "You can't always wear a cheongsam to every formal event."

Just as Xia Chan began formulating her response, another message arrived in rapid succession: "Of course, you look exceptionally beautiful in a cheongsam—that's not the issue. But in this particular kind of high-profile setting, you might inadvertently steal the spotlight from the actual main character, which would be diplomatically problematic."

Xia Chan couldn't suppress a smile at his unexpected concern for social dynamics. "Well, you can't keep 'lending' me expensive things every single time either. I can't realistically repay too many such generous loans."

"This time it genuinely is just a loan, not a gift." His clarification arrived promptly. "Don't get anything dirty, and you have to return everything later in exactly the condition you received it."

Hearing He Huaisheng frame it this way—as a temporary borrowing rather than another lavish present she couldn't possibly reciprocate—Xia Chan accepted the arrangement readily. It wasn't that she'd never borrowed clothing before for important occasions, but she'd never managed to borrow something of this exceptional quality from anyone in her previous social circles.

On the evening of July 8th, the anniversary party commenced as scheduled, right on time.

Xia Chan kept her assigned duty firmly in mind, following closely in He Qihua's wake after he exited his vehicle with the practiced bearing of someone accustomed to grand entrances. After finishing an apparently important phone call, He Qihua turned to properly look at Xia Chan for the first time that evening and offered an unexpected comment. "Nice clothes. Very appropriate choice."

Xia Chan allowed herself a faint smile, deploying the perfect blend of professional gratitude and subtle humor. "To receive such praise from Mr. He himself, it seems the three thousand yuan daily rental fee isn't too unreasonably expensive after all."

He Qihua's response carried the dry amusement of someone who appreciated quick wit. "Go ask the finance department for reimbursement later. Consider it a legitimate business expense."

The party overflowed with elegant ladies and strikingly beautiful women, the collective beauty far surpassing any social gathering Xia Chan had ever attended during her hotel years. However, she paid virtually no attention to the spectacular displays of wealth and attractiveness surrounding her. Every time someone approached He Qihua's orbit, she had to remain on high alert, her mental database instantly accessible.

He Qihua embodied his dual role perfectly tonight—serving as host while maintaining the careful balance between displaying sincere warmth and preserving appropriate dignified distance. He navigated the social dynamics with masterful precision, engaging in eloquent conversation throughout the evening, and somehow managed to close several significant business deals amid the laughter and seemingly casual banter.

After expertly handling one particularly important guest, He Qihua finally told Xia Chan she could take a break and rest for a while. He then excused himself to the private lounge reserved for VIP hosts.

Xia Chan didn't dare actually relax her vigilance. Instead, she strategically selected a sofa positioned with clear sightlines to the lounge entrance, maintaining careful surveillance of He Qihua's movements and potential summons.

A familiar voice emerged from behind her position. "Why are you sitting here all alone like some wallflower?"

Xia Chan turned around and greeted Chen Aijia with a genuine smile of recognition. "Are you working overtime tonight?"

"Of course I am." Chen Aijia settled down beside her with the comfortable ease of old friendship and extended a plate of delicacies. "Thanks to your company's business, the number of VIP clients we've been serving this month has far exceeded our projected quota. Management is thrilled."

Xia Chan's carefully applied makeup meant she didn't dare eat anything casually that might smudge or stain. She employed a small dessert spoon to extract tiny pieces of cake, feeding herself with the delicate precision of someone defusing a bomb.

"Why haven't I seen He Huaisheng anywhere tonight?" Chen Aijia's question carried casual curiosity.

Xia Chan shook her head with genuine uncertainty. "I don't know his whereabouts." She had been scanning the crowd all evening without catching even a glimpse of his distinctive presence.

"Xinghui is, after all, fundamentally his family's business by blood and inheritance." Chen Aijia's observation carried layers of implication. "Now that He Qihua has completely taken over operational control and organized such an ostentatiously grand anniversary celebration, I can't help wondering what He Huaisheng actually thinks about all this, how he processes being displaced."

Xia Chan's small spoon paused mid-motion, frozen between plate and mouth.

Chen Aijia smoothly changed the subject with practiced social grace. After a prolonged stretch of continuing conversation, noticing that Xia Chan had grown strangely unresponsive and distant, she nudged her companion lightly with her elbow. "What are you thinking about so intensely?"

Xia Chan surfaced from her distracted thoughts with visible effort. "Oh, I'm sorry—where were we in the conversation?"

"I was saying that your dress looks genuinely stunning. Seriously beautiful. Who gave it to you?"

"What do you mean, who gave it to me?" Xia Chan's defensive response emerged perhaps too quickly. "Can't I buy something nice for myself occasionally?"

Chen Aijia released a laugh that suggested she wasn't fooled for a moment.

Xia Chan had no intention whatsoever of revealing the truth. "I borrowed it from someone in the public relations department. They maintain a closet of formal wear for exactly these situations."

After chatting for a while longer about inconsequential matters, Chen Aijia received a phone call that transformed her relaxed expression into professional concern. "Something urgent came up in the housekeeping department. I have to return immediately and deal with whatever crisis is developing. We'll catch up again later when I'm not being summoned."

Xia Chan nodded understanding.

Chen Aijia gestured toward the plate still balanced in Xia Chan's lap. "Want to eat more? Should I leave this?"

"No, you can take it back with you. I'm done picking at things."

After Chen Aijia departed with characteristic efficiency, Xia Chan continued to sit in her strategic position and wait for any signal from He Qihua.

Sitting there in a state of distracted contemplation, Xia Chan found herself unable to resist extracting her phone from her designer handbag and opening WeChat. However, she stared at the chat interface with He Huaisheng for an extended period, cursor blinking, not knowing what message to send that wouldn't sound needy or inappropriate.

Just as she remained lost in this indecisive state, she suddenly registered the sound of approaching footsteps.

Xia Chan startled to full alertness and quickly stood with professional composure. "Mr. He."

He Qihua's gaze swept over her briefly. "Let's go. Time to return."

Xia Chan tucked her phone back into her handbag and followed He Qihua back toward the banquet hall's glittering chaos, though unease continued gnawing at her thoughts.

He Qihua resumed his expert handling of various guests and business associates, while Xia Chan listened attentively from her position slightly behind and to his left, occasionally allowing her gaze to drift toward the hall's main entrance.

Suddenly, she noticed a significant figure making his entrance and quickly stepped forward, leaning close to He Qihua to deliver her whispered intelligence. "Mr. He, Mr. Ju from Guanghe Real Estate has just arrived."

He Qihua's expression remained perfectly unchanged, revealing nothing. He subtly but smoothly concluded his ongoing conversation with the financial reporter positioned before him, straightened his collar with casual precision, and walked with unhurried confidence toward the entrance to greet the newcomer.

Ju Heguang, the formidable general manager of Guanghe Real Estate, had originally launched his business empire in electronics, becoming an overnight millionaire and minor business legend. Later, he'd suffered a catastrophic setback when venturing into the notoriously unpredictable food industry, and temporarily faded from public visibility. Several years later, riding the relentless wave of rising housing prices with perfect timing, he'd orchestrated a spectacular comeback and now reigned as the undisputed "land king" of Chongcheng. Every ambitious businessperson in the city wanted to cultivate his friendship and favor.

Clearly, He Qihua was absolutely no exception to this universal desire.

Xinghui had originated as a fast-moving consumer goods company, later strategically expanding into clothing, furniture, cosmetics, and various other commercial fields. After years of steady development and market consolidation, it now faced the inevitable dilemma of industrial upgrading and transformation to maintain competitive relevance. Therefore, He Qihua had set his calculating sights on the lucrative real estate sector as the next frontier.

After exchanging the requisite pleasantries with Ju Heguang, He Qihua deliberately attempted to steer their conversation toward substantive business topics. However, Ju Heguang proved frustratingly adept at dodging direct discussion, maintaining strategic vagueness and studied ambiguity throughout their interaction.

He Qihua felt mounting frustration but absolutely dared not reveal his intentions too transparently or prematurely, lest he sacrifice negotiating position and lose the crucial initiative in whatever arrangement might eventually develop.

In the end, their careful probing exchange yielded only an empty social promise to play golf together at some unspecified future date—the classic brush-off disguised as friendly interest.

The party officially concluded at 10 PM sharp.

However, the secretariat staff couldn't simply go home and rest. They faced the additional obligation of preparing a comprehensive briefing document summarizing the evening's events and significant interactions, to be presented to He Qihua first thing the following morning for his review.

By the time everyone finally finished their mandatory overtime work, the office clock read 12:30 AM.

Just as the exhausted staff members were gathering their belongings to finally depart, He Qihua called with new demands. The documents were needed immediately—not tomorrow morning as originally planned—and had to be personally delivered to his villa residence in the exclusive Qiushan district tonight.

The first secretary team consisted entirely of veterans except for Xia Chan, so this thankless late-night errand naturally fell to the newest member without discussion or debate.

Xia Chan felt profound frustration but recognized her powerlessness to object. She collected the completed documents and headed to the copy room to print the final versions.

The printer chugged with mechanical persistence, spewing out sheets of formatted paper in steady rhythm. A brief commotion erupted in the secretary's office not far down the corridor, voices raised then gradually subsiding to silence. Within minutes, she found herself the only remaining person in the entire massive company headquarters.

Xia Chan stood there alone in the humming quiet, ostensibly watching data and carefully formatted documents emerge from the printer, when a thought suddenly crystallized in her mind with dangerous clarity.

She glanced around the empty office space, confirming her complete solitude. Then she raised her hand and deliberately pressed several additional buttons on the printer's control panel.

The streets lay utterly deserted in the small hours of early morning. Xia Chan drove toward Qiushan through empty intersections, the city transformed into something ghostly and unfamiliar.

It was already well past midnight when she finally arrived at He Qihua's residence.

Xia Chan gathered the document folder and approached the front gate to ring the doorbell, her finger pressing the button with more force than strictly necessary.

She took the opportunity to glance inside through the ornate ironwork. It was an impressive Chinese-style villa featuring an elaborately landscaped courtyard that probably required a full-time gardening staff. Qiushan represented the absolute pinnacle of wealthy residential areas, where land values reached astronomical figures. To build such an extensive private garden in this particular location demonstrated either tremendous wealth or tremendous arrogance—probably both.

After a brief interval, a man emerged from the house but didn't bother opening the gate properly. Instead, he simply accepted the documents through the fence bars and disappeared back inside without a word of acknowledgment.

Xia Chan took several steps back toward her car, then found herself glancing back at the imposing residence. Every window blazed with light despite the late hour, suggesting significant activity within.

Puzzled by this observation and unable to suppress her investigative instincts, she stood on the road for a moment in deliberation. Then she quietly circled around the property perimeter toward the parking area located in the villa's rear courtyard.

The parking lot contained seven or eight luxury vehicles arranged with the casual precision of serious wealth, one of which she immediately recognized as He Qihua's distinctive Lincoln.

Xia Chan methodically identified each vehicle, extracted her phone from her pocket, and carefully memorized all the license plate numbers, committing them to both phone memory and mental record.

Just as she prepared to retreat from her unauthorized surveillance, she suddenly heard a dog's aggressive bark erupting from somewhere inside the compound.

Xia Chan very nearly released an involuntary scream of terror. She quickly clutched her phone against her chest and ran back to her car with undignified haste, her heart hammering. After driving for several blocks, as the He residence finally receded into comfortable distance behind her, Xia Chan finally permitted herself to breathe with something approaching normal rhythm.

She retrieved her phone and composed a message to He Huaisheng: Where are you right now?

A moment later, his reply arrived: At home.

Xia Chan's fingers flew across the screen: Come out. I have something important to give you.

He Huaisheng's response carried audible reluctance even through text: Asleep.

A surge of pure indignant anger welled up inside Xia Chan's chest. She thought with rising fury that she had worked herself to exhaustion all evening without even managing a single sip of hot soup, and this privileged man was comfortably sleeping...

Her fingers attacked the keyboard with aggressive energy: Don't regret it later if you don't come out now!

Finally, He Huaisheng apparently recognized he'd pushed too far and relented: Where should we meet?

Xia Chan considered the question for a moment, then typed her practical concern. "Where else can we possibly get a late-night snack at this hour?"

He Huaisheng's response arrived with surprising speed: My home.

Thoughts:

He Huaisheng's gift of an expensive dress and accessories—carefully framed as a "loan" to maintain Xia Chan's sense of independence—shows his growing understanding of her psychological boundaries and pride. It explores the complex dynamics between Xia Chan and He Huaisheng, with her reaching out to him specifically to share this intelligence, indicating growing trust despite her earlier rejection of romance. Chen Aijia's pointed question about He Huaisheng's feelings regarding his displacement from the family business plants seeds of doubt and sympathy in Xia Chan's mind. 

The late-night summons to He Huaisheng's home carries obvious implications that Xia Chan seems willing to accept despite her previous firm boundaries, suggesting her feelings are evolving beyond what she's willing to consciously acknowledge.