His Sunday Substitute - Chapter 7

After thinking it over, I believe it’s best if you attend the Sunday meeting yourself.

This unbearable state of affairs lasted two full days before Qin Cangye finally snapped. During an excruciatingly dull shareholders’ meeting, he pulled out his phone and texted Li Jinmiao: Dinner tonight?

“Vice Chairman Qin, what are your thoughts on these investment proposals?” someone asked, interrupting his train of thought.

Qin Cangye set his phone down and lifted his gaze, sweeping a frosty glare across the assembled shareholders and executives. “I already rejected these proposals in the last meeting,” he demanded. “Are you all suffering from amnesia, or is there another reason we’re discussing them again today?”

His voice was quiet, but his tone was icy, the sheer force of his presence pressing down on the room until everyone lowered their heads. A few of the older board members wiped cold sweat from their brows, exchanging nervous glances before silently nominating one among them to speak up. “Vice Chairman Qin,” the man began hesitantly, “these projects were personally prioritized by Chairman Qin before his hospitalization. It’s… it’s not ideal for you to dismiss them outright like this.”

He punctuated his words with a dry chuckle, trying to lighten the tension.

Everyone in the room knew that Qin Cangye and his grandfather, Qin Weishu, were two tigers circling within Ronghua Capital. But as the saying goes, two tigers cannot share one mountain. Though they maintained a veneer of civility, their power struggle had never truly ceased.

The upper echelons of Ronghua Capital had gradually begun taking sides, a development Qin Weishu welcomed. His goal was to mold Qin Cangye into a ruthless, profit-driven successor, not some indecisive fool swayed by sentiment. Yet despite this, Qin Weishu had never yielded an inch to his grandson. He had once declared to the board: As long as I live, I am the foundation of Ronghua Capital! Only when I’m dead can the Qin family’s seed take root in this soil!

Qin Cangye had responded with nothing but a cold laugh.

Everyone knew that even if Qin Cangye did nothing, Ronghua Capital would eventually fall into his hands. No matter how mighty a tiger, age would inevitably bring decay and then the grave. So, for now, no one dared offend Qin Cangye. Of course, they also didn’t dare cross the still-living Qin Weishu.

“Director Chen,” Qin Cangye said after staring down Chen Lang, a high-ranking member of Qin Weishu’s faction, long enough to make the man’s scalp prickle. Then, with a faint smile, he continued, “Fine. Since you insist these projects are critical, I’ll place them entirely under your responsibility. Do your best, wouldn’t want to disappoint Chairman Qin. Meeting adjourned!”

With that, Qin Cangye rose and strode out of the room, leaving a trail of icy silence in his wake.

Chen Lang sat frozen in his seat, on the verge of tears. These are Northern Region projects! he wailed internally. How am I, the Southern Region director, supposed to handle them?!

The moment Qin Cangye stepped out of the meeting room, his phone buzzed. He opened it to see Li Jinmiao’s sarcastic reply: Tomorrow’s only Wednesday! Has the great and busy Qin lost track of time?

Qin Cangye’s expression darkened visibly. He clenched his phone so tightly he nearly crushed it, barely resisting the urge to hurl it onto Li Jinmiao’s desk.

Too eager. I was far too eager.

He stormed back to his office and dropped into his chair, brows furrowed in brooding silence. A storm brewed in his eyes, lightning flashing across his gaze.

Assistant Wu Heng immediately straightened his posture and stood respectfully to the side. He thought Qin Cangye was plotting an overwhelming retaliation against Chen Lang, but after waiting for a long time, all he got was a light chuckle: “Isn’t it quite interesting to endure like this? A life that seems worthless suddenly has so much to look forward to…”

The usually reticent Wu Heng silently gasped and fell into deep contemplation over Qin Cangye’s words.

Endure who? Probably… Chen Lang, right?

In the general manager’s office of Feiyue Games at the Near East Software Park, Li Jinmiao stared at the few words Qin Cangye had sent her for a long time. She simply couldn’t understand why, despite not having been exposed, Qin Cangye’s attitude had changed so drastically, even going so far as to extend a dinner invitation ahead of time.

After pondering for several minutes, she suddenly stood up and muttered to herself, “Could it be that he really hasn’t seen through Nuonuo’s identity? Maybe he thinks Nuonuo is me, Li Jinmiao, because he never really understood what kind of person I am! That day, perhaps by coincidence, he took a liking to Nuonuo after just a few words!”

If that were truly the case, should she still let Nuonuo go to the appointment this Sunday?

Li Jinmiao was torn. After agonizing for a while, she scratched her head irritably and said, “Forget it, no time to think about it now. I’ll deal with it when the time comes!”

Stepping out of her office, she spotted Ji Wenjun about to head out for lunch with some colleagues and called out, “Hey, Xiao Ji! I have a meeting this afternoon and need to prepare some materials. After lunch, can you go to Auntie Zhang’s Spicy Hot Pot at the back gate and queue up to buy a weight-loss meal set for me?”

Ji Wenjun froze, then asked his first question, “Boss Li, you eat street food too?”

Li Jinmiao rolled her eyes. “That’s the healthiest, cleanest, tastiest, and most affordable street food I’ve ever had!”

Ji Wenjun let out an “Oh,” then posed his second question, “Boss Li, where’s your assistant, Zhang?”

Li Jinmiao rolled up her sleeves in frustration. “Old Zhang went ahead to meet with our investors! Why so many questions just to buy a meal? Are you going to do it or not?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Ji Wenjun laughed, grabbing a few colleagues and darting out.

After lunch, Ji Wenjun made his way alone to the bustling back gate of the software park. Amid the noisy hawkers, he found the quietest stall: Auntie Zhang’s Spicy Hot Pot.

With over a dozen people still ahead in line, the bored Ji Wenjun pulled out his phone and launched another barrage of messages at Su Yinuo.

: Nuonuo, have you eaten yet? I just had beef noodles! What did you have for lunch? [Grin][Grin]
: Still busy? Don’t you slack off at work? Haha, such a model employee! [Thumbs up][Thumbs up][Thumbs up]
: Listen, Nuonuo!
: My boss, Boss Li, the sole heir of the Li Group, actually asked me to buy her street! food! A rich second-gen who loves street! food! [Shocked][Shocked]
: I’m stunned!! [Shocked][Shocked]
: What’s so good about street food anyway? It’s unregulated, unhealthy, and unhygienic. [Eye roll][Eye roll]
: I’ve never eaten street food since I was a kid. It might smell good, but who knows if they’re using gutter oil? [Disdain][Disdain][Disdain]
…

Ahead, Su Yinong, who was swamped with work, felt her phone vibrating incessantly in her pocket. Without even looking, she knew it was Ji Wenjun sending messages again.

Over the past few days, Ji Wenjun had been bombarding her with texts nonstop. Sometimes, even during work hours, the messages kept coming. Su Yinuo found it exasperating and even considered reporting him to Li Jinmiao.

Though it was indeed annoying, she had to admit it was also somewhat amusing.

After the busy rush hour, whenever Su Yinuo had a moment to check her phone, she would often burst into laughter at the funny anecdotes Ji Wenjun sent. He frequently shared his artwork too. As an original illustrator, Ji Wenjun’s skills were nothing short of extraordinary, and his pieces never failed to leave Su Yinuo in awe.

Su Yinuo packed up a serving of spicy hot pot and handed it to a customer. Adjusting her gloves, she waited for the next order.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a customer scrolling through his phone step forward, put it down, and hesitantly say, “Uh… I’ll have a weight-loss meal. Do I need to pick the ingredients myself?”

The voice sounded oddly familiar. Su Yinuo looked up and was startled to see Ji Wenjun’s face, completely different from his usual smooth-talking self.

Ji Wenjun’s expression was somewhat cold, his slightly furrowed brows exuding a disdain she had grown accustomed to.

Her heart chilled slightly, but Su Yinuo said nothing more, treating him like any other stranger. “No need. The ingredients for the weight-loss meal are fixed. Please wait a moment, sir.”

Ji Wenjun suddenly turned to stare at Su Yinuo, trying to make out her face beneath the mask and cap, hidden by her bangs.

“Auntie Zhang, I’ll have a weight-loss meal too. Make them together,” called someone from behind, dispelling Ji Wenjun’s doubts. He smirked self-deprecatingly, thinking, No way. How could this auntie be Nuonuo? It’s just the voice that sounds similar.

By one o’clock, the lunch rush had finally subsided. After serving the last few scattered customers, the back gate of the software park fell into complete silence by 1:30. Su Yinong removed her chef’s gloves, stretched her sore back, and sat down on a small stool, pulling out her phone.

Ji Wenjun’s avatar still bore a red notification dot. Opening the over twenty unread messages, Su Yinong’s scrolling finger paused at the words: “I’ve never eaten street food since I was a kid.” She stared blankly at his blatantly disdainful remarks, her heart a mix of conflicting emotions.

She wasn’t angry at Ji Wenjun. His words were, after all, quite normal. Street stalls were indeed unregulated, informal, and their hygiene entirely dependent on the vendor’s personal habits and ethics.

She had been doing her absolute best, using only the freshest ingredients, never buying subpar disposable containers, scrubbing the small bowls for ingredients and seasonings clean every day, never reusing broth, and purchasing only certified cooking oil from supermarkets.

But even so, it couldn’t change many people’s prejudices.

Su Yinuo understood this bias. After all, none of her efforts were visible to customers. So, she didn’t blame Ji Wenjun. She just felt a pang of sadness, because of this prejudice, she was destined never to form genuine friendships with certain people.

Although she had never been in a relationship before, Su Yinuo could easily discern Ji Wenjun’s intentions. His relentless messages were clearly an attempt to pursue her. Initially, she had considered becoming friends with him, but now it seemed that even friendship would only waste his time and energy.

She knew that street vending was seen as unrespectable in the eyes of many, but she couldn’t abandon such a low-cost, low-barrier, and decently profitable job just because of others’ opinions. Nor did she want to deceive Ji Wenjun. So, with a deep sigh, she blocked him.

Then, her thoughts immediately turned to Qin Cangye.

In truth, she had been thinking about him often these past few days.

He was the most unique and dazzling person she had ever met, someone she had once only admired from afar through a screen, a world apart from her own. Only by assuming Li Jinmiao’s identity had she been able to cross paths with his life. But lately, she often caught herself fantasizing: if Li Jinmiao successfully called off the engagement in the future and she no longer had to hide her true self, could they perhaps become friends?

Now, she had her answer: impossible.

How could someone as elegant and refined as him ever pause with a warm smile before her bustling, smoke-filled malatang stall, amid the clamor of vendors and the endless flow of people?

With another heavy sigh, Su Yinuo sent a message to Li Jinmiao: I’m sorry, Miaomiao, truly. After thinking it over, I think it’s best if you go to the meeting on Sunday yourself.