Chapter 39: Follow Me and You'll Prosper

Ling Ziheng had no idea how he made his way out of the elevator; it seemed that in the blink of an eye, he was already at the door, pressing the doorbell. From inside, a clear, bright female voice rang out, “It’s not locked, come in.”

He pushed open the door, and was immediately stunned. Lin Zhiwei sat cross-legged on the floor amidst a mess of scattered papers, sprawled out and scribbling away, completely oblivious to her appearance. Upon seeing him, she blinked, a hint of confusion in her eyes, as if unsure of where she was.

Ah? Today, Ling Ziheng was dressed particularly dazzlingly. She guessed it must be for the interview and nodded, springing up from the pile of papers and bounding over to his side, “Not bad! Your designer finally has some taste,” she remarked, eyes glinting mischievously as she sized him up.

Ling Ziheng’s expression was one of resigned helplessness. Before opening the door, he had envisioned an aloof beauty, someone set apart from the world, but he should have known—Lin Zhiwei always acted unpredictably. Like now, her hair tousled, dressed in casual clothes at home, still stunning but completely out of place, and yet, he never tired of watching her.

“So you mean my usual outfits have no taste at all?” he said, closing the door, his voice tinged with resignation.

Lin Zhiwei shook her head, unusually serious. “Usually, you’re dressed way too ascetically.”

Ling Ziheng glanced down at his loosely buttoned shirt, a faint smile tugging at his lips. It seemed this girl could still be swayed by a bit of charm. With a hint of seduction, he asked, “So, does today’s look meet the director’s approval?”

Lin Zhiwei swallowed hard, waving her hand, “No, no, boss, don’t tease. Faced with such beauty, I’m afraid I’ll lose control—button up your shirt,” she said, turning her face away, her expression grave.

Ling Ziheng chuckled softly—this girl.

Lin Zhiwei was silently reciting a mantra for calm in her heart, even though she’d seen this face countless times, including at the arbitration committee’s red carpet event. This blend of ascetic and seductive was pure walking hormones. Steady, steady—just imagine the person opposite is a mountain of gold, and focus on propriety.

She took a deep breath, sat cross-legged again on the floor, arms folded, surveying her scattered masterpieces. “More or less like this. I’ve listed the two variety shows I think are the best prospects—do you want a report?” she asked, looking up with confidence.

Ling Ziheng shook his head, settling himself on the sofa, long legs crossed, gazing down at her. The neon lights of the city outside shimmered in his eyes, “No need. You decide.”

Hearing that low, magnetic voice, Lin Zhiwei’s heart skipped a beat. She seriously wondered if Ling Ziheng had gone to a nightclub instead of an interview—or perhaps indulged himself. So out of character.

That look, that attitude, the open shirt collar… he was practically tempting her to break the rules, with that wicked smile and, most deadly of all, that tone.

You decide.

Who was the boss here? Who was in charge? Who was supposed to attend?

Still, for the sake of professional conduct and the dignity of a newly appointed official, she cleared her throat, one hand clutching a pen, the other her plan, and spoke in a formal tone, “Just take a look yourself. The rest, we’ll discuss at the studio tomorrow, so I don’t have to repeat myself.”

She placed the papers beside Ling Ziheng, then turned to the fridge for a bottle of cold cola, asking, “Want a drink?”

“Sure,” Ling Ziheng replied, taking the papers and skimming through Lin Zhiwei’s plan, stealing glances at her from the corner of his eye. This girl was clearly keeping her distance, bold as she seemed, but in reality…

Lin Zhiwei tossed him a can of cola, then settled herself at the far end of the sofa, mentally chanting, “Steer clear of trouble, keep calm, stay ascetic.” This was a crucial turning point in her career; she couldn’t afford distractions.

Ling Ziheng cracked open his cola, glanced at her, and said, “No problem. It’s pretty much what I had in mind.”

Lin Zhiwei breathed a sigh of relief. This plan had cost her countless brain cells all afternoon; if it hadn’t passed, it would have been disastrous.

Such dedication—getting to work straight off the plane—deserved a reward.

“Just one thing, Zhiwei.” Ling Ziheng looked up, his eyes shining, his smile spreading with a hint of teasing.

“Uh?” Lin Zhiwei replied nervously. Was there a problem? Heaven help her; this was even more nerve-wracking than rushing a report or a thesis.

Suddenly, Ling Ziheng got up and moved to her side. The air was instantly filled with a subtle orchid fragrance. Lin Zhiwei froze, dazed—what was he up to?

He turned to face her, the distance between them barely half an arm’s length. Ling Ziheng’s smile made Lin Zhiwei’s head spin, and then his lips parted, “You’re too far away. It’s exhausting to talk.”

Lin Zhiwei felt as if she were drowning, only to be pulled out, chilled to the bone.

She smiled awkwardly, biting her straw in confusion, silently cursing Ling Ziheng.

Wasn’t this supposed to be a proper work meeting? At this hour, she was already wrestling with self-doubt and self-restraint.

Ling Ziheng pretended to study the plan intently, but out of the corner of his eye, he could see the nervous girl beside him. Enough—he decided not to tease her further, and said quietly, “No issues. Are you planning to use your current face?”

Seeing his seriousness, Lin Zhiwei’s interest was piqued, and she replied with pride, “I’ve prepared for that. With all my gear, tomorrow I’ll meet colleagues as myself. Later, to coordinate with your work, I’ll switch to male attire, under the new name Lin Zhi. Ordinary looks, ordinary name—no trouble for you.”

“Good. That puts me at ease.”

“At ease about what?” Lin Zhiwei was puzzled by his words.

“Nothing,” Ling Ziheng said, ruffling her hair, thinking how adorable she looked at the moment.

Lin Zhiwei immediately straightened up, “No need to worry, boss. Stick with me and you’ll always have something to gain,” she said, hopping off the sofa and returning to organize her hard work.

“Zhiwei, are you hungry? Want to go out for a bite?” Ling Ziheng asked.

“No, no. I’m riding a wave of work enthusiasm, and anyway, it’s not convenient for you to eat out,” Lin Zhiwei replied with a wave.

Ling Ziheng’s expression turned plaintive as he glanced at Pei Xi’s message about their restaurant arrival time, shaking his head.

His future wife was not only a powerhouse, but a workaholic—how would he survive the days to come…