Chapter 20: Unspoken Language

As attendees gradually arrived, Xia Chan poured He Qihua a cup of coffee and returned to her seat. He flipped through the documents with the distracted attention of someone who had already made up his mind, then said simply: "Let's begin."

Fu Ruyu stepped forward. Without consulting the documents in her hands, she delivered the entire presentation from memory — target customers, design concept, profit and cost expectations — concisely, clearly, without hesitation.

He Qihua appeared to be listening. When she finished, he asked: "Same question as before. What's the difference between your product and our existing product line?"

Fu Ruyu didn't miss a beat. She rattled off a series of figures. "This is the market share and profit-and-tax performance of YouthHouse for each quarter over the past two years. You can see the detailed data in the PPT. The trend is clear: the YH series is declining quarter by quarter in both categories. At this rate, YH will be operating at a loss in less than two years — which means Xinghui will completely lose its market share among young consumers."

She pressed a button on the remote. The next data set appeared on the screen. "On the left is the average income and per capita consumption level of the twenty-to-thirty-five age group we surveyed, as well as specific income ranges and sample proportions. On the right is YH pricing. As you can see, only a very small percentage of young people can actually afford to buy YH products."

He Qihua made a gesture. "You're talking about small profits but quick turnover, right?"

Fu Ruyu remained completely composed. "Right now, Xinghui's products are solely focused on the high-end market — which completely contradicts the original founding concept of affordable, accessible products."

He Qihua looked at her. "Are you questioning my business strategy?"

"No," Fu Ruyu said, her tone still perfectly calm. "Consultant He is simply questioning an unreasonable business strategy." She paused for just a beat. "President He — Xinghui's founder, Mr. He Menghui, started by selling soap for three cents a bar."

He Qihua went very still.

Xia Chan, watching from her seat, felt a cold sweat break across her back.

The answer was incredibly provocative — practically a direct accusation that He Qihua had forgotten his roots, abandoned the principles that had built the company he now controlled.

For a moment, no one in the room made a sound.

He Qihua laughed — a short, dry sound. "Only kids resort to their parents when they can't win a fight."

He stood, straightened his collar, and turned toward the door. "Take the documents to my office for my signature."

He Huaisheng had remained expressionless throughout the entire exchange. Only now did he glance at He Qihua's retreating figure.

Fu Ruyu handed the documents to Xia Chan, her voice perfectly professional. "Please have Secretary Xia present them to President He for his signature."

Xia Chan nodded.

Fu Ruyu's attention shifted immediately back to He Huaisheng. She moved to his side and began a series of rapid sign language gestures.

He Huaisheng nodded, stood, and walked toward the conference room door. At the threshold he paused — just slightly — but did not turn back.

Xia Chan finished gathering her things, returned to the secretary's office, and delivered the documents Fu Ruyu had given her to He Qihua's desk.

She was about to leave when He Qihua pushed the door open and entered.

Xia Chan stepped aside quickly. "President He."

He Qihua sat down, glanced at the documents, and then — unexpectedly — called out to her.

Xia Chan stopped immediately.

He Qihua picked up his coffee cup. "What do you think?"

Xia Chan paused. "Mr. He, I don't know much about the company's operations."

"No need to know. Just tell me — what do you think?"

What do you think about what? she wondered. This proposal? Or He Huaisheng himself?

She hesitated, then said carefully: "I think it's unwise to stick to old ideas. The company is like a large ship sailing at sea — the wind and currents are constantly changing. Adjustments have to be made according to specific circumstances."

He Qihua was silent for a long time. "There are always some people," he said finally, "who think that what our ancestors left behind is always good." He waved a hand, dismissing her.

Xia Chan lowered her eyes, closed the door, and left.

---

He Huaisheng's new project launched quickly. He spent more time in Chongcheng after that.

Xia Chan ran into him often at the company — waiting for the elevator, on the way to the conference room, in the parking lot.

Most of the time, they only nodded slightly in acknowledgment. After half a month, they had not exchanged a single word.

Only then did Xia Chan feel a faint regret settling in. She didn't like this situation. It was awkward and uncomfortable, nothing like before when she could joke with him freely without measuring every sentence.

On WeChat, their chat history ended that morning. At first, Xia Chan would find herself scrolling back to look at it absentmindedly. Later, she simply deleted the conversation from her list entirely. Peace and quiet at last.

Before she knew it, it was the end of July.

Xia Chan's birthday.

---

She had arranged dinner with Chen Aijia and Liu Baona, so she didn't work overtime that day. She finished early and headed straight to the restaurant.

It had been a while since she'd seen Chen Aijia, who had cut her hair to a chin-length bob with curls at the ends — more charming than before, somehow both softer and sharper.

Liu Baona was as carefree as ever. The moment she saw Xia Chan, she launched into complaints: "Sister Xia Chan, let me tell you — things are really bad right now. President Cheng keeps finding reasons to inspect the housekeeping department."

Xia Chan laughed. "Maybe President Cheng has taken a liking to you and is using it as an excuse to see you more often."

Liu Baona shivered dramatically. "How childish."

"Is it really that bad?"

Liu Baona considered this. "It's not that bad. At least he's quite pleasing to the eye. Some people in the housekeeping department actually hope he comes more often. Preferably every day. All the time."

Xia Chan grinned. "You're the one hoping he comes every day, all the time, aren't you?"

Liu Baona swore to the heavens to prove her innocence.

The three of them ate and talked, the conversation drifting easily from topic to topic. Then, somehow, it turned to He Huaisheng.

Liu Baona said, almost casually: "He Huaisheng stayed at our hotel again a few days ago. Sister Ruyu was with him."

Xia Chan paused mid-reach for her glass. "Fu Ruyu is his assistant now. It's not surprising."

"But Sister Ruyu went into He Huaisheng's room and only left this morning."

Xia Chan went quiet. Then she smiled and said lightly: "Instead of focusing on work, you're always gossiping."

"I wasn't gossiping! I was on the night shift that day, and when I got off work this morning, I just happened to see Sister Ruyu coming out of He Huaisheng's room."

Xia Chan glanced away, took a large gulp of her juice, and abruptly changed the subject. "Has your night shift allowance increased?"

"Yes! Yes! To be honest, in that respect, President Cheng is really good..."

Xia Chan became somewhat absent-minded after that. When dinner ended and Chen Aijia and Liu Baona wanted to go shopping, Xia Chan begged off — she had to go home for cake — and said goodbye to both of them.

She went to the parking lot, took out her phone, and prepared to call Zhou Lan. Then she saw the WeChat notification.

It was from He Huaisheng. Wishing her a happy birthday.

Xia Chan sighed and replied: Thank you.

She started the car. Another message popped up: Where are you?

Xia Chan replied: He Guang Department Store.

A moment later: Are you in the parking lot?

Before she could answer, another message arrived: The elevator is on the fourth floor. Come down soon. Wait for me.

He was talking to himself, not giving her any real opportunity to refuse.

A little while later, a figure strode across the parking lot toward her car and opened the passenger door without ceremony.

On the passenger seat were gifts from Chen Aijia and Liu Baona.

He Huaisheng paused, glanced at them, picked up the bag, opened the back door, and tossed them inside.

Xia Chan couldn't help herself. "Are you being reasonable?!"

He Huaisheng naturally didn't hear her. After clearing the seat, he bent down and got in, paused, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box. He handed it to her.

Xia Chan took it, opened it, glanced inside. A pair of diamond earrings.

"A birthday present," He Huaisheng said.

"Too expensive. I won't be able to afford to give you one when it's your birthday." Xia Chan closed the box and handed it back to him.

He Huaisheng took the gift and tossed it directly into the pile in the back seat with the others.

Xia Chan looked at him helplessly. "Where are you going?"

He Huaisheng shook his head.

"Are you going home? I really don't want to take you. It takes half an hour to get there — an hour round trip. And I have to go back to celebrate my mom's birthday."

He Huaisheng was silent for a moment. Then: "I'm not going home."

Before Xia Chan could react, He Huaisheng had already straightened his collar and opened the car door.

"He Huaisheng!"

But he had his back to her and couldn't hear. He was already stepping out.

He paused, glanced back at her, nodded slightly, and walked away.

Did this man come all the way here just to give me a birthday present?

Xia Chan backed out of the parking space. Not long after, she received a voice message from Liu Baona: "Sister Xia Chan! We just ran into President Cheng at the mall — isn't that a coincidence?"

Xia Chan laughed quietly to herself.

No wonder. He was having a secret rendezvous with Cheng Zijin and had happened to see her.

---

Back home, Zhou Lan was visibly dissatisfied. But considering it was her birthday, she didn't argue.

The two of them sat down together peacefully, cut the cake, and each took a piece, eating slowly.

Zhou Lan said: "Every piece you take will make you gain weight. This is all a sacrifice for you."

"Yes, yes. I'll order a treadmill right away."

"Twenty-seven. Not young anymore. If you don't find a rich man soon, you'll have no hope when you're old and ugly."

"Yes, yes. I'm looking."

"You're so beautiful. You should thank me."

"Yes, yes. Thank you. Today is your day too."

Zhou Lan sighed suddenly, the lightness draining out of her. She put down the cake. "I went to the prison yesterday. He finally agreed to see me."

Xia Chan paused.

"He's lost weight. Just skin and bones."

Xia Chan's expression was calm, though she felt a small flare of annoyance. She didn't mock Zhou Lan as she usually would have. "Do whatever you want. But I still won't help you."

"I sold those cheongsams," Zhou Lan said.

Xia Chan glanced at her.

"Such fine fabric. Such skillful weaving. Back then, seven sets cost three million. People really don't know their value these days."

"How much did you sell them for?"

"One hundred thousand. In total."

Xia Chan went quiet.

Even in the hardest times, Zhou Lan had kept them. Had refused to sell.

The cake was too sweet and somehow also bitter. Xia Chan couldn't eat anymore. She packed up the remaining half and put it in the refrigerator.

She was about to go to the bathroom to wash up when her phone vibrated. A message from He Huaisheng: Come down.

Xia Chan was stunned. She went to the window and looked out. In the darkness, in front of the dilapidated iron gate, stood a figure.

She hesitated for a moment. Then she called out to Zhou Lan: "I'm going downstairs to buy something!" She grabbed her phone and keys, slipped on a pair of flats, and went out.

---

Xia Chan pushed open the iron gate and looked at He Huaisheng standing in the dim light. "Why are you here?"

He Huaisheng didn't speak. He reached out, grabbed her arm, pressed her back against the wall, leaned in close, pressed his hand to the back of her head, and kissed her deeply.

His light scent immediately filled her senses. Xia Chan couldn't help but take a deep breath. Every intention to struggle vanished instantly.