Four Years Ago, Her Husband Cheated on Her Body - Chapter 43

The financial magazine featuring Jia Qiao on its cover was officially released.

Since financial magazines don’t require fans to control comments, boost data, or engage in “sec-killing” sales tactics, they generally don’t have a habit of “pre-heating” the market. Before the magazine went on sale, the official Weibo only gave a rough preview of the release date.

The editors of this financial magazine—who had spent half their lives dealing with finance, securities, and the stock market—probably never imagined in their wildest dreams that in the 21st century, as print media gradually declined, they would be rushing through a blizzard in the middle of the night to negotiate with the publishing house because their monthly issue “sold out in seconds.”

One must understand that their magazine had been in circulation for decades, and they had a very clear understanding of their sales figures. Almost every month, the numbers were fixed; they could never sell out, and many copies were often left to be distributed at airports or high-speed rail stations.

This time, because they had managed to secure Jia Qiao, the marketing department was extremely excited. They proposed an additional print run of 30,000 copies, nearly four times the usual volume.

The editor-in-chief had cursed them out: “If they don’t sell, are you going to keep 30,000 magazines to use as toilet paper?!”

The two sides argued fiercely, and eventually, the release volume was set at 20,000 copies—already double the usual amount.

The employees responsible for cleanup and distribution looked at this number, sighed, and contacted airports and partners early to discuss placement. They never expected that on the very first day of release, the online inventory would hit zero instantaneously.

Terrified, the department in charge of distribution channels checked the numbers several times to ensure it wasn’t an inventory error. It was truly sold out.

This sort of spectacle might be common for the entertainment and fashion weeklies next door, but when had a financial magazine ever seen such a thing?

Not only did it sell out in seconds, but the backend showed more and more customers clicking the link, urging the magazine to “restock” immediately.

Where was the magazine supposed to get stock? The printing volume for each month needed to be communicated to the press at least two weeks in advance; otherwise, printing, layout, and binding simply wouldn’t make it in time.

Hounded by life-threatening demands, the magazine office had no choice but to plagiarize the signature move of the fashion magazines: pre-orders. They would put up a pre-order for half a month and see what happened.

They thought that with such a long wait, people would surely lose interest and the enthusiasm would die down. Instead, as soon as the pre-order link went live, sales surpassed six figures in minutes.

Six figures!

The magazine staff was scared out of their wits. Facing the marketing department’s interrogation—“I asked to print 30,000 and you told me to use them as toilet paper, what do you have to say now?”—the editor-in-chief was so terrified he could only offer a forced smile while massaging the marketing manager’s shoulders.

Although online stock was gone, financial magazines still placed a portion of their stock in major bookstores and newsstands every month. Over the years, newsstands had become rarer, and offline channels were no longer mainstream, so only 10% of the total print run was allocated there. Sometimes, they even had to negotiate with bookstore owners just for the chance to display a few extra copies.

Hearing about the sell-out, people who couldn’t wait for the online pre-order rushed to the nearest newsstands.

Lu Min, who had come into the city to buy things, saw a newsstand that was usually deserted now nearly bursting with people. He hurried over to ask what was happening. He couldn’t speak, so he waved his wire-bound notebook around for a long time before someone answered: “We’re trying to grab Jia Qiao’s magazine! There are only a few left, and the owner is seeing if he can get more stock. Everyone is waiting.”

Jia Qiao? Which Jia Qiao?

Lu Min pulled out his phone, put his Master’s name and “magazine” together, and clicked search.

The page jumped. Before he could even read the text, several photos appeared that Lu Min had never seen before. The caption consisted of only four words:

The Descent of the God of Beauty

Lu Min clicked on the first photo and was certain that the “God of Beauty” in the picture—wearing red contact lenses with golden wings spread behind him—was absolutely Jia Qiao himself!

For the past four years, Lu Min had been by Jia Qiao’s side. Even though he knew his Master was beautiful, he had become somewhat immune to it. However, seeing him in a different outfit appearing before the lens, Lu Min was still struck by a massive wave of beauty.

Truly, the Descent of the God of Beauty!

The Weibo post had only been up for two hours, yet the read count had already exceeded a million, and the comments and reposts were incredibly lively. If one didn’t know better, they would think a “Purple Microstar” had just debuted at the peak of the entertainment industry.

[WTF, this production quality is actually from a financial magazine?!]

[Insider info: Word is the ‘Big Five’ fashion magazines all wanted Jia Jia for their covers, but since Jia Jia isn’t in a company within the entertainment circle and isn’t related to fashion, they just lent their photography teams and stylists to their colleagues next door.]

[To be honest, doesn’t this feel like the guest is overshadowing the host? Everyone is looking at the photos, who’s looking at the content?]

[I am! On page 45, there’s a short interview about Jia Jia’s life. He said he’ll start operating a social media account soon and said his life is very fulfilling.]

[I heard most of the interview script was provided by Qianhe; only the questions about his life were answered by Jia Jia himself. I’ve read it four times—it’s so seriously cute.]

[+1, even though it’s just text, it’s that “deadpan” kind of cute.]

[Is it just me, or based on the answers, does it seem like Jia Jia is living with someone?]

[Definitely. “Walking the dog together in the afternoon”—that’s a huge hint.]

[Stay away from his personal life. Even if Jia Jia has a roommate, so what? If he doesn’t go public, we’ll pretend they don’t exist. If he does… the S+ CP fans will offer their blessings through tears.]

[Anyway, Jia Jia’s first love was Chairman Zhu. They never divorced in the end. S+ is the ultimate aesthetic love.]

…

Because he had been busy preparing for his exams recently, Jia Qiao hadn’t seen the news in time. It wasn’t until Lu Min handed him the magazine that he realized it had been released.

“Oh, right,” Jia Qiao remembered belatedly, “The company and the magazine told me that after the release, I have to ‘operate’ [on social media] at least once.”

Jia Qiao didn’t have a habit of sharing his life. The word “operate” sounded like a chore, a real drag. After thinking for a moment, he took out his phone and messaged Zhu Nanyu.

Jia Qiao: You’ve probably guessed my Weibo password, right? Help me operate it. Zoa: What if I haven’t? Jia Qiao: …Then I’ll send it to you.

As soon as the message was sent, he heard a light chuckle from behind. Jia Qiao turned his head and shot a glance at Zhu Nanyu. “Is it funny?”

Zhu Nanyu tried his best to control himself, clearing his throat before answering, “No, it’s not.” Before he finished, his tone was once again laced with amusement.

“You know I’m boring, so don’t flirt with me.”

Zhu Nanyu’s smile deepened. He hugged him from behind and whispered, “That’s exactly why it’s interesting.”

As he spoke, he held the phone up in front of Jia Qiao, taking a photo of the sunset after the snow from Jia Qiao’s perspective. Then he opened Weibo and entered the password without a second thought.

Login successful. Jia Qiao glared at him again.

After learning that Zhu Nanyu had “resurrected,” Jia Qiao immediately guessed who had sent the culprit to break into the bridal chamber. Later, he had changed his passwords several times, but checking the records, the security system never once reported an error. No matter how he changed it, Zhu Nanyu could always guess it.

It was just like him—standing in front of Zhu Nanyu, he was seen through completely, entirely under his control. Even realizing this, Jia Qiao had no intention of breaking free. He used to think it didn’t matter, as he only wanted to live out his remaining time peacefully. Now he felt… being haunted like a stalker, never leaving his side, constantly speculating and peering into him—it actually didn’t feel that bad.

“What do you want to post?” Zhu Nanyu asked. “I don’t have any ideas,” Jia Qiao said, annoyed. “You figure it out.” “Okay.”

Five minutes later, everyone following Jia Qiao received a notification for a new post.

Jia Qiao: Wind and Twilight. [Image]

The attached photo was the bamboo forest snowscape taken from Jia Qiao’s perspective just moments ago. The sunset spilled across the scene, and the bamboo leaves rustled in the wind.

Zhu Nanyu held him from behind. Jia Qiao watched him type out the caption word by word, thinking that Zhu Nanyu’s literary level was really only at this standard. It was like a primary schooler’s diary entry—just recording what was in front of him, no different from himself.

It was rare for netizens to catch Jia Qiao posting. Even though it was just a landscape photo, the reaction was exceptionally enthusiastic. Many “Mama fans” who were receiving a “postcard” from their “baby” for the first time looked at those four words and that photo over and over, slowly picking up a different flavor.

[AHHH! S+ fans take a huge bite of sugar!]

[This is the right vibe! Both sweet and heartbreaking—truly the ‘Family Estate’ CP.]

[Sisters upstairs, what do you mean? I don’t get it.]

[Go search the phrase ‘Wind and Twilight.’ The original quote is: ‘I do not lack wind and twilight, water and campfires. In this sea of people, I only lack you.’]

[Not just that! Zoom in and look closely. A physics god just speculated that the perspective of this photo is higher than Jia Jia’s normal eye level. It matches Chairman Zhu’s height perfectly.]

[Jia Jia stood on his tiptoes to take a photo of the wind and twilight from Zhu Zhu’s height, subtly hinting ‘In this sea of people, I only lack you.’ Who says our S+ isn’t pure love?!]

[This morning they said Jia Qiao has a new lover. Maybe his new lover is just as tall as Zhu Zhu.]

[Stand-in literature, no difference. In that case, Chairman Zhu will forever be the white moonlight in Jia Jia’s heart.]

“I told you I don’t like ‘stand-in play’ [trope],” Jia Qiao complained, overwhelmed by the constant notifications. He tossed the phone onto Zhu Nanyu. “Fix it quickly, stop them from guessing wildly.”

“Jiaojiao, you’re making things a bit difficult for me.” No matter how god-like Zhu Nanyu was, he couldn’t control all the netizens, stop them from messaging Jia Qiao, or prevent them from shipping the S+ couple.

“Serves you right, you did it on purpose!” Jia Qiao pulled the covers over his head, closing his eyes to sleep.

The image of Zhu Nanyu typing those four words floated before his eyes. Leaning against his shoulder, he had typed very slowly—those four words took a full two minutes.

“Then I’ve posted it,” Zhu Nanyu’s voice whispered in his ear, confirming again, “I really posted it?”

Jia Qiao had urged him impatiently, “Just hurry up.”

Thinking back, that was probably Zhu Nanyu giving him a chance to regret it. After all, once that Weibo post went out, the whole world thought he was confessing his love to Zhu Nanyu.

So stupid. What was there to regret?

December 31st.

At noon, Jia Qiao walked out of the exam hall, feeling much better than he had expected. Although Zhu Nanyu was a “pervert,” he was an incredibly competent live-in tutor. Moreover, he wasn’t just good at reading Jia Qiao; he was good at predicting exam questions. The questions on the formal exam had an 80% overlap with the types Zhu Nanyu had predicted. Based on previous years’ passing scores, even if Jia Qiao made minor mistakes, it would be enough to pass.

Having just finished the troublesome exam, Jia Qiao didn’t even have time to breathe before he had to shed his “student” identity and head to the workplace. December 31st was the last day of the year, and many companies held “Year-End Farewell Parties” to wrap up the year properly.

Qianhe was no exception. But in previous years, these parties were held during the coldest part of winter, and Jia Qiao’s frail body couldn’t leave the house. Additionally, he wasn’t familiar with his colleagues, so going would only make everyone awkward. Therefore, even the final Chairman’s speech was delivered by someone else on his behalf.

This year was a bit different. As soon as the venue for the party was booked, the company confirmed the time with Jia Qiao first. Inside the company, if someone ran into Jia Qiao, they would subtly ask if he would attend the party.

Cai Xi, the “Queen” of the Finance Department, said with great emotion, “In the past year, Qianhe and Chairman Jia have weathered hardships together and welcomed the dawn together. If you are absent…”

“Tell the truth,” Jia Qiao interrupted her. Having been tempered by Zhu Nanyu so many times, Jia Qiao could now see through people’s insincerity at a glance.

“Company team-building is boring. Everyone just wants to go home and enjoy the New Year holiday. The attendance rate for the party is too low. If word gets out, Qianhe will lose face,” Cai Xi said, pushing up her glasses and deciding to just lay it out. “So we want to push the Chairman out to heat up the atmosphere.”

“No,” Jia Qiao refused. “I’m not good at heating up atmospheres.”

He heard there were performances—cross-talk, acrobatics, somersaults, and even “boss-dissing” sessions to get the crowd going. Jia Qiao’s only talent wasn’t suitable for display; if he showed it, no one would be having a New Year holiday—they’d all be at the police station as witnesses.

“Believe me, you just need to show up,” Cai Xi pleaded with her hands together. “Please!”

Since it was his own company, Jia Qiao really couldn’t refuse. After the exam, he changed his clothes and went to the party. Because of the event, the company only worked half a day, and most employees headed straight to the hotel after lunch.

Wu Youwei was a new employee who had jumped ship from Rui Ke. This was his first time attending Qianhe’s annual party, and he originally thought it wouldn’t be much different from his old employer. But even before the party started, everyone was already exceptionally excited, heatedly discussing when the Chairman would arrive.

“I’ve been waiting for this day for so long!” “Right, right! Usually when I see Chairman Jia in the office, he feels so distant, I don’t dare strike up a conversation.” “Today is different. Queen Cai gave the word—she’s responsible for tricking Jia Qiao into coming, and after that, we’re free to do as we please.” “Speaking of which, Chairman Jia is younger than me. Can I add a benefit to let him call me ‘Big Sister’? I’m willing to give up my raffle entry!” “You really dare to dream! I want that too!”

As the discussion reached a fever pitch, the person in question suddenly appeared. Beside him was a man with a pale complexion wearing a mask. With the recent flu outbreaks, wearing a mask wasn’t strange. Aside from a few senior executives who looked twice, everyone else quickly looked away and approached Jia Qiao with raised glasses.

“Chairman Jia, let me toast you.” Several people had prepared their lines, ready to coordinate and persuade him to drink.

Jia Qiao had already taken the glass and said politely, “Thank you.”

“You… you’re welcome.” Watching Jia Qiao down the champagne, the consciences of the first few people to toast him began to ache.

The people around them were frustrated by their lack of spirit. Hadn’t they agreed to cast aside their ranks today and let the “cows and horses” [the workers] become the masters? Why did they start feeling bad for the capitalist as soon as the drinking started?

Today, once Jia Qiao stepped into this banquet hall, he wasn’t leaving until he’d drunk a full round…

“Chairman Jia, are you okay?” “Your face is so red. Are you drunk?”

Discovering that after only three glasses of champagne Jia Qiao’s gaze began to lose focus, everyone forgot their original plan and crowded around him concernedly.

“You guys too—before you start pouring, find out about his tolerance first!” “Tolerance?” Jia Qiao blinked blankly. “I don’t know. I’ve never drunk before.”

Everyone: “…”

Their consciences hurt so much.