My Weekend Lover Turned Out To Be My Boss - Chapter 73

Chapter 73: Sisters. “When the Winter Night Grows Warmer”

I poured a cup of black tea and handed it to Guan Shuyun, saying with diligent pride, “A bet is a bet. Drink some tea and cool off.”

She shot me a displeased look and snatched the cup. The tea nearly splashed onto her hand as she muttered angrily, “I provide them with the best food and drink, and not a cent of their salary is ever missing. Yet at the critical moment, not a single one of them is useful. They’ve completely humiliated me!”

The more she thought about it, the angrier she got. She emptied the cup and made a move to hurl it at the guards, but I quickly caught her raised arm and teased, “Raising it that high—are you planning to blow up a bunker? Or do you just insist that your teacups must be broken in pairs?”

Guan Shuyun pursed her lips and glared at me, then glanced at Lin Chen’s handsome face. Finally, she asked bluntly, “Hey, would you like to change employers? Name your price.”

Lin Chen didn’t even give her a sidelong glance. He simply put his hands behind his back and turned away. My laughter was uncontrollable. “Hahaha… it seems he prefers my twenty baskets of soup dumplings. CEO Guan, don’t make things difficult for us… Hahaha!”

“Hmph! Ungrateful lot!”

Guan Shuyun gave up and headed toward the villa. I poked Lin Chen’s arm, signaling him to follow. As long as she didn’t suspect anything, I had to keep this “safety guarantee” with me—it was my insurance for rescuing Qiu Qi.

Walking into the house, a gust of cold air greeted us. Guan Shuyun, walking ahead, began to tell a story of secrets. “I still remember the day Lan Feiyi was tricked into coming here by me. Guess what I made her do?”

She walked over to the piano in the lobby and tapped the lid nonchalantly. “She played a beautiful piece. Watching her profile while listening to that melody, I thought to myself: You Feifan, that bastard, is truly lucky in love… but you’ve probably forgotten that Lan Feiyi is a master pianist.”

I remained calm, simply approaching the piano and tracing the edge of the lid with my finger. She was right; I had almost forgotten the sight of Phoebe lost in the music, her fingers dancing. It had been a long, long time since she played for me. Unwilling to hear more of Guan Shuyun’s nonsense, I changed the subject. “The tea is drunk and the sparring is over. CEO Guan, let’s get back to the point.”

Guan Shuyun looked bored. “You’re such a woman without a sense of romance. I offer to share a story, and you get impatient… You just want to see Qiu Qi, don’t you?”

She sat on the sofa and patted the empty spot next to her. “Want to sit by me? The show is about to start.”

I suddenly had a bad premonition. I scanned the living room, but saw nothing unusual. Guan Shuyun tugged my sleeve and pointed straight ahead. “Stop looking. Look over there.”

Following her finger, I focused on a dark curtain that blended into the wall. She pressed a button on the remote, and the curtain slowly drew back. A figure sat in a chair, hands tied behind the back. She was gagged, her eyes covered by a black cloth, her head lolling as if she were near death.

Hearing the sound, she jerked her head up, followed by a frantic burst of muffled whimpering and struggling. Guan Shuyun looked at me expectantly, searching for fear, but I remained unmoved. She seemed dissatisfied.

“You Feifan, I always thought you were a pushover who only lost her temper when pushed. I misjudged you today. So calm… what’s your angle?”

I stared at Qiu Qi. Guan Shuyun had purposefully said my name, and hearing it, Qiu Qi began to writhe frantically in the chair, her muffled cries likely a plea for help.

When I turned back, I realized Lin Chen was gone. That bastard, playing hide-and-seek at a time like this! I looked down at Guan Shuyun. “What do you want me to do? Kneel and beg you to let her go?”

Guan Shuyun crossed her legs and rested her chin on her hand, looking intellectual but with that same expectant gaze. “If you’re willing to kneel and beg, maybe I will.”

My laughter echoed through the spacious room. “Hahaha! Why would I beg you? Her life or death has nothing to do with me. You’re the one committing illegal kidnapping and imprisonment; if this is exposed, you’re the only one going to jail. Did you really think I came for a trade? I came to settle a score with her… what you do with her afterward is none of my business.”

Qiu Qi went silent. Even Guan Shuyun was stunned by my harshness. I took a large stride forward. A guard nearby moved to block me, but Guan Shuyun signaled him to stand down. I stepped onto the small platform and walked up to Qiu Qi. I gripped the back of her chair and leaned close to her ear, speaking in a voice loud enough for Guan Shuyun to hear: “He Mu confessed everything. Do you have an explanation?”

I looked at Guan Shuyun; she nodded. I reached out and untied the black cloth from Qiu Qi’s face. When light hit her eyes, she squinted painfully, taking a while to adjust. She glared at me with bloodshot eyes, but I looked away. “CEO Guan, I have a personal grudge with Qiu Qi, but I don’t understand—what is your connection to her?”

Guan Shuyun stood up and approached us, her eyes fixed on Qiu Qi. She patted my shoulder and abruptly began a story—whether for me or for Qiu Qi, I wasn’t sure.

“In this very villa, there once lived half-sisters. They shared a surname but had very different lives. The older sister’s mother was a mistress kept by the father; the woman was ruthless and insisted on giving birth to secure her position, but she died during delivery. The younger sister was born to the legitimate wife, born with a silver spoon that no one could replace.”

As she spoke, Guan Shuyun reached out and ripped the gag from Qiu Qi’s mouth. Qiu Qi’s gaze was murderous. Guan Shuyun tilted Qiu Qi’s chin up and continued: “The older sister was a ghost in that house, born but never raised. Fortunately, the younger sister loved her and followed her around like a shadow. They shared everything.

The family was relatively peaceful. The older sister wanted for nothing and received the same elite education as the younger one. On her twentieth birthday, she asked her father at a banquet for permission to study abroad. The younger sister loved her too much and couldn’t bear her leaving, so she threw a tantrum to stop her.

The legitimate wife, however, saw the older sister as the greatest threat to the inheritance. She supported the request and even gave the older sister a massive sum of money—enough to live comfortably for the rest of her life. The older sister left with nothing else, not even a ‘goodbye.’ She vanished one night into thin air. Perhaps she knew that once she crossed that threshold, there would never be a place for her there again.

The younger sister never understood why the older one left her life so easily. They were sisters; how could she just discard her? Years passed with no word—not even a postcard.

During those ten years, the family collapsed. The parents filed for divorce, and the younger sister fled to France to escape the chaos. Then came the news of the parents’ accidental death. The family business was being torn apart by vultures. The younger sister, alone and besieged, called the older sister countless times, begging her to come home. But the older sister wouldn’t even attend their father’s funeral.

Overnight, the younger sister learned the coldness of the world. Everyone’s existence was defined by profit. When the sisters finally reunited, guess what reason brought the older one back?”

This story, which had nothing to do with me, brought tears to Qiu Qi’s eyes. Her cracked lips trembled. Guan Shuyun was smiling, but her eyes were desolate.

“It was a beautiful day. The older sister sat on the sofa and calmly told the younger one she was sick—she needed a bone marrow transplant from a relative to survive. But she didn’t realize that her younger sister was no longer an innocent little girl.

The younger sister asked: ‘If you weren’t sick, would you have never come back? Why do you only reach out when you need something? This isn’t love; it’s a transaction. Where were you when I was crying and begging you to come home?’ The question stumped the older sister, but the younger one still agreed to the hospital tests. Qiu Qi, are you satisfied with this version of the story?”

Qiu Qi shook her head violently and cried out, “But you didn’t save her! You threatened her! You made her sign everything over to you! She died, she’s gone forever, and you have no sister! You’re just a monster with no family!”

Guan Shuyun sniffled. The trace of warmth on her face vanished, replaced by a dark, chilling smile.

“Why should I have saved her? Did she think of me when she abandoned me? I wanted to give her hope just so she could experience absolute despair—just like the hope I had when I begged her, and the despair she gave me in return. So, Guan Qinyun’s death was inevitable. I gave her a choice: a company for a life. She wasn’t cheated. She was just stupid—she valued a failing company over her own life.”

I realized then how deep someone’s coldness could go. No wonder Qiu Qi was so desperate to gain my trust to get to Phoebe and counter Guan Shuyun. Her “deceased lover” had such an unspeakable past. But none of this was my fault. I was an innocent victim. I felt no sympathy for Qiu Qi’s situation, nor for the woman who died.

I crossed my arms and looked at Qiu Qi, then pointed at Guan Shuyun. “You and He Mu planned your approach to me just to face your enemy? You used me for this? Do you even have a conscience?”