After Breaking Off the Engagement, The Young Lady Deeply Regretted It - Chapter 21

“You’re my girlfriend, of course I’ll feel distressed for you.” Jing Xiao said as if it were only natural. She propped one hand against the edge of the bed, her fingertips tracing back and forth over the marks she had just left there.

Fan Qingyu gave a faint smile. “Alright.”

Jing Xiao clung to her and wouldn’t let go. Their skin was already damp with sweat where they touched. When Fan Qingyu lightly pushed her shoulder, she only hugged her tighter.

“Xiaoxiao, you’re like an octopus,” Fan Qingyu said.

Jing Xiao only let out a few muffled hums. Fan Qingyu exhaled a long breath, finally managing to free one arm with difficulty. She picked up the glass of water that had been poured earlier and took a small sip. “Let go for now, let me drink some water.”

“I don’t want to.” Jing Xiao pressed her feverish cheek against Fan Qingyu’s arm, searching for a cool sensation on her skin. The rubbing made Fan Qingyu laugh again and again.

She couldn’t bring herself to push Jing Xiao away too forcefully. Smiling, she tucked her hair behind her ear and glanced at the clock on the wall—it was just past nine. She never liked going to bed so early. Casually turning on the television, she asked, “Xiaoxiao, is there any movie you want to watch?”

Jing Xiao’s head was filled with nothing but Fan Qingyu, so how could she care about movies? “No, just put on anything.”

“I don’t have anything I want to watch either. Let’s listen to the financial news.” Apart from market research, Fan Qingyu liked to stay updated on the economy through news and newspapers.

Jing Xiao teased her: “Old cadre watching the news again?”

“Go away.” Fan Qingyu laughed and turned her head aside—only to suddenly find a familiar corporate interview playing on screen.

At the sound of that voice, her smile slowly froze.

Jing Xiao hadn’t yet noticed her abnormality. She called her pet name several times but got no response. Lifting her head drowsily, she saw Fan Qingyu’s lips parted, her face pale, the blood drained even from her lips.

Fan Qingyu was usually so calm and composed, rarely showing such an expression. A sense of dread gripped Jing Xiao. She scrambled upright, asking with concern: “What’s wrong?”

“Hush.” Fan Qingyu pressed a finger to her lips, staring at the television in disbelief, terrified to miss even a single word.

Jing Xiao followed her gaze. The anchor, composed and clear-voiced, repeated the news broadcast. Fan Qingyu’s pupils dilated, her eyes vacant as she stared for a long time, unable to recover.

“Xiaoyu? Xiaoyu?” Jing Xiao called urgently.

“How… could this happen…” Tears welled in Fan Qingyu’s eyes but refused to fall, leaving them red and swollen. Her whole body trembled as she muttered, shaking her head, “Impossible… impossible… how could this happen…”

Jing Xiao disregarded her own discomfort, gently patting her back in comfort. “Don’t panic. Calm down, slowly.”

Fan Qingyu’s lips were dry and cracked, flecked with blood. Her throat felt stuffed with cotton, no sound emerging except broken sobs.

Jing Xiao cupped her face, speaking with a trembling breath. “Deep breaths. Stay calm.”

She had never understood the power of love before, always believing that Alphas in heat should be in the boxing gym, venting with another Alpha in a fiery match—not hiding indoors needing a lover’s comfort. Only now did she realize: when emotions run deep, even in heat, one still musters the strength to comfort their partner.

Seeing Jing Xiao’s flushed cheeks, Fan Qingyu couldn’t bear to let her worry more. She bit her lip tightly, tears finally bursting free, releasing all the pent-up negativity.

When the tears fell, she felt a strange relief.

Her voice, unlike the passion of earlier in the night, was dull and hoarse. “Xiaoxiao, I messed everything up.”

Jing Xiao wiped her face, leaning her forehead against her shoulder to soothe her trembling. “Everyone makes mistakes, it’s not the end of the world.”

“This isn’t an ordinary mistake.” Fan Qingyu’s trembling worsened. For the first time, she realized that when someone reaches the brink of collapse, they cannot react at all.

Jing Xiao didn’t know what else to say, so she offered the only thing she could, awkward yet sincere: “I’m here.”

“Xiaoxiao, I’ve ruined everything.” Curling up, Fan Qingyu hugged her knees, as if only that posture could ease her crushing guilt. “I let Grandfather down.”

Jing Xiao’s body heat grew stronger, her heartbeat pounding wildly, her vision blurring. “Don’t say that. Just breathe first.”

Draining the rest of the water, Fan Qingyu’s lips regained some color. Suddenly remembering something, she groped blindly around her.

“What are you looking for?” Jing Xiao asked.

Fan Qingyu’s voice was mostly air now, repeating a word over and over that Jing Xiao couldn’t catch.

Her ears buzzing, she ignored Jing Xiao’s questions, fumbling fruitlessly.

As if truly connected to her, Jing Xiao reached under the pillow and pulled out Fan Qingyu’s phone, handing it to her. “Looking for this?”

Fan Qingyu practically snatched it from her hands. Unlocking the screen, dozens of missed calls appeared. She redialed the most recent one.

Bella picked up instantly. Having worked for her for years, Bella knew her best. Instead of blurting out the truth, she first asked gently, “President Fan, are you alright?”

Exhausted, Fan Qingyu leaned against the bedside cabinet, the coarse wood rubbing her back raw.

Jing Xiao tucked a pillow behind her, then lay back down under the quilt, drained herself.

“Speak,” Fan Qingyu said curtly.

“Sarah was crying from worry. I’m glad you’re safe.” Bella sighed in relief, her voice careful. “President Fan, regarding the last bidding—our group, Sheng’an’s first choice was indeed us.”

Before she could finish, Sarah barged in, sobbing. “President Fan!”

Fan Qingyu wasn’t in much better shape, but she still maintained the dignity of a leader. “What are you crying for in broad daylight? Look, I’m fine.”

Bella lowered her voice. “Sheng’an’s final choice was An Group. Their bid was only a hundred thousand higher than ours.”

The words struck like an ice pick through Fan Qingyu’s heart, leaving her dazed as she stared blankly at the call timer ticking on.

An Group, their fiercest rival, was no less powerful. At this critical juncture of Fan Group’s transformation, to lose an investment that had consumed vast manpower and resources—and carried such high hopes—was a devastating blow.

At first, she only blamed herself. But upon hearing that An Group’s bid differed by just a mere hundred thousand, all her self-comfort turned into a bitter joke.

The project had been in preparation for half a year, the final version locked in the company’s confidential safe. Only the top executives had access.

For a multimillion contract to differ by only tens of thousands—it was unthinkable.

Swallowing hard, her voice rasped. “Have you found any clues?”

“That’s what the chairman wanted you to know.” Bella, merely a secretary, knew little herself. But her meaning was clear enough.

Fan Qingyu hung up. She tried to stand, but Jing Xiao clung tightly to her. “Don’t go.”

Jing Xiao’s hair was messy, her peach-blossom eyes glistening with tears. Her lips pressed together, making her look heartbreakingly beautiful.

Fan Qingyu sighed softly. “Alright, I won’t.”

She looked out the window. Outside, men and women reveled in the blazing summer heat, but she felt utterly alien among them. Flicking through her contacts, she saw her grandfather’s calls topping the list. But she couldn’t bring herself to answer.

While she hesitated, the phone rang again. Staring at the familiar number, anxiety and dread welled up inside her.

“Why won’t you answer?” Jing Xiao asked.

She understood her mindset. She had never seen Fan Qingyu like this before. Thinking back to her conversation with Xu Jia that evening, a chill spread down her spine. She had a bad premonition—this had Xu Jia’s fingerprints all over it.

“It’s Grandfather,” Fan Qingyu murmured, licking her lips.

Jing Xiao stroked her head soothingly, as if coaxing a child. “Answer it. He’s probably just worried.”

Still hesitant, Fan Qingyu placed the phone aside. The call stopped. Just as she exhaled in relief, the ringtone began again.

Pressing her temples, she answered in one go.

“Xiaoyu, are you alright?” Grandfather Fan’s voice sounded weary.

“I’m fine.” Hearing his kind yet aged voice, her composure broke. “Grandpa…” she whispered.

“Xiaoyu, you didn’t handle this matter well.”

Her eyes dimmed, at a loss for words. Jing Xiao, sitting beside her, could hear everything. Childishly, she opened her notepad, typing out lines of encouragement for Fan Qingyu to see.

Fan Qingyu forced a smile, mouthing: I’m fine.

But she knew avoiding it was useless. Closing her eyes, she whispered, “I’m sorry, Grandpa.”

“No need to apologize. I raised you myself—I know your abilities better than anyone.” His sigh carried both love and disappointment. “But you’ve made the most basic, yet hardest-to-guard-against mistake.”

She couldn’t deny it. “Yes.”

“The other side was clearly prepared, knowing Fan Group inside and out. Are you alone right now?”

Looking at the woman beside her, she couldn’t bring herself to hide anything from Jing Xiao. She only turned off speakerphone. “No.”

“We suspect an insider. Otherwise it couldn’t have gone unnoticed. When will you return?”

“Tomorrow.” She couldn’t admit she had come for something as trivial as attending Jiang Shiyue’s matchmaking party.

His voice carried both fatigue and concern. “Don’t blame yourself too much. You’re busy—you can’t oversee everything.”

“For now, we can’t publicize this. We’ll investigate internally. Once the truth is clear, we’ll decide our next step.”

Fan Qingyu agreed. “Alright.”

A leader may falter, but she cannot be easily defeated. Ending the call, Fan Qingyu’s mind whirred, desperately calculating countermeasures.

She knew now—this was a true crisis.

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