The Overbearing CEO Boss is my Childhood Sweetheart - Chapter 4

Chapter 4

He Wenqi finished his business and called Qiao Yuan out.

Though he promised a “big meal,” Qiao Yuan chose a crawfish restaurant. The waiter served the dishes one by one, and the fan-shaped plates pieced together to cover the entire eight-person tabletop.

“Did you invite other friends?” He Wenqi asked, looking at the amount of food on the table.

Qiao Yuan skillfully put on disposable gloves, entering a combat state for peeling shrimp: “No, just the two of us.”

“Then… this?”

The table was full of crawfish. He Wenqi counted them: steamed, thirteen-spiced, garlic, spicy, oil-braised, scallion, fermented black bean, and pickled pepper—eight flavors in total. In addition, each plate was accompanied by a Boston lobster, along with varying amounts of small seafood like scallops, oysters, sea whelks, and clams, plus braised duck heads and chicken feet.

Good heavens, it was a “land and sea” gathering; the only thing missing was a bird to make it “land, sea, and air.”

“This is too much. Can you finish it?”

“Aren’t you here too?” Qiao Yuan’s peeling movements were practiced; in just a short moment, a peaked pile of shells sat before him. “Don’t you also like crawfish?”

He Wenqi liked eating them, but he didn’t like peeling them—it was too much work for his hands. Plus, his appetite wasn’t right today; looking at the table of delicacies, he only felt a dull nausea in his stomach.

He picked up his chopsticks to pick and choose, finally grabbing a few steamed ones. He didn’t even put on gloves, peeling them directly through the plastic glove bag.

“Brother Qi, you don’t seem to be in a good mood. Did things not go smoothly?” Qiao Yuan asked after finishing a soft chicken foot.

He Wenqi slowly pulled off the crawfish heads: “If it hadn’t gone well, you wouldn’t be having this meal. The client was very satisfied, and the follow-up collaboration was settled. I’m just thinking about the things to come.”

“That’s right, Brother, you have great skills. Anyone who sees your drawings would say they’re incredible.” Qiao Yuan started putting on a new glove. “But, Brother, I don’t get it. Since your paintings can sell for five figures, why go to work for a company as… a receptionist? Isn’t a receptionist just a ‘vase’? You’re good-looking, but isn’t doing that a waste of talent? You don’t earn much; it’s better to come to our club.”

He Wenqi put down his chopsticks: “I’m waiting for an opportunity.”

“What opportunity? The company hasn’t even noticed your talent. I don’t think it’s a good company, and your boss must be blind.”

Just as he finished speaking, the phone rang.

Qiao Yuan’s hands were occupied, so he gestured toward his pocket with his chin.

He Wenqi pulled the phone out for him. It displayed an unfamiliar number.

“Answer it?”

“Answer, speakerphone.”

He Wenqi swiped to open it.

“Hello, is this Mr. Qiao Yuan?” The man’s tone on the phone was polite and magnetic.

“Yes, it’s me. Who are you?”

“I am Han Ji,” the other party replied.

Qiao Yuan sat bolt upright, swallowed the food in his mouth, and cleared his throat: “Ah, well, hello Mr. Han. Is there something you’re looking for me for?”

“I apologize for the intrusion,” Han Ji said. “Could I add your WeChat?”

Calling specifically to add WeChat—Qiao Yuan looked toward He Wenqi. The man was using his chopsticks to stir the crawfish on his plate, seemingly not paying attention to the call.

“Of course, Mr. Han. My WeChat is my phone number.”

“Great, I’ll send the request in a moment.” Han Ji paused for two seconds.

Qiao Yuan asked: “Does Mr. Han have anything else?”

“Uh, are you close with He Wenqi? Are you… friends?”

Qiao Yuan glanced at He Wenqi from the corner of his eye: “We live together. Does Mr. Han have something for him?”

“Heh, nothing. Alright then, I’ll hang up. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

Once the dial tone signaled the end of the call, He Wenqi turned to find Qiao Yuan staring at him.

“What’s wrong? Is something on my face?”

Qiao Yuan shook his head with a probing, meaningful look: “Brother Qi, do you really have no relationship with Han Ji? I saw his attitude toward Zhang Wei yesterday; that ruthless energy wasn’t just him venting for you. He looked truly enraged.”

He Wenqi’s gaze grew distant, then he spoke truthfully: “When we were kids, we were next-door neighbors. His parents were busy with business and no one looked after him, so he lived at our house for a period of time.”

“Oh, no wonder.” Qiao Yuan asked again, “Then why did you say you didn’t know him before?”

He Wenqi’s eyes refocused: “After graduating high school, he went out of town for university, and we lost contact after that.”

He lowered his head, staring at the various flavors of crawfish. His voice grew quieter, as if he were talking to himself: “People change, especially when their environment and the people they interact with are completely different from before…”

He Wenqi turned his head as he spoke and saw Qiao Yuan listening so intently he had forgotten to eat. He smiled and steered the conversation: “Since I hadn’t seen him in years, I really didn’t recognize him, and I was afraid of mistaking him for someone else.”

Qiao Yuan curled his lip and gave a long “Hmm”: “There’s a story there.”

He Wenqi didn’t continue the topic: “Are you still eating? If not, let’s pack up and go back.”

“I’m eating! I’ve only just opened up my appetite.” Qiao Yuan threw himself back into the crawfish peeling battle and didn’t ask further.

Han Ji sent the WeChat friend request, but there was no movement from the other side.

His long, well-defined fingers tapped the tabletop for a while. He picked up the coffee on the desk, then set it down again. The beans were good, but unfortunately, the water temperature used for brewing was too high; it had lost its mellow aroma and tasted burnt and bitter.

He stood up and paced to the window, calling Assistant Chen. After handling matters regarding going to the office tomorrow, Han Ji suddenly asked: “Does the company have any hard requirements for hiring new employees?”

Assistant Chen couldn’t quite gauge the new boss’s intent. With so many positions available, he was momentarily stumped.

Han Ji didn’t wait for an answer, continuing: “I want to know the situation regarding the recently hired batch of interns. Have the head of HR organize the information.”

The call ended. The phone spun in his palm. He swiped with his thumb—it was the ID photo he had just taken. Another swipe switched to the previous video in the album.

The background noise in the video was chaotic. On the screen was the scene of He Wenqi on stage at the Night Color club.

Han Ji repeatedly paused and zoomed in. Finally, he switched to the messaging interface and sent a message to Assistant Chen.

Opening WeChat again, the application message still hadn’t been approved.

Han Ji entered a string of numbers into his contacts, editing the name as “He Wenqi.”

He Wenqi carried a container of vegetable porridge he had packed, along with two large boxes of unfinished crawfish.

“Brother Qi, your appetite really isn’t right.” Qiao Yuan stuffed the things into the fridge.

He Wenqi opened the lid of the hot porridge and took two sips; his stomach twitched. He had only eaten two bites of bread in the morning and hadn’t had lunch at the right time; his appetite was indeed off. It was likely his stomach trouble acting up again.

“Yuan-er, give me the stomach medicine.”

Before Qiao Yuan could pour him water, He Wenqi had already swallowed the medicine dry.

“You…”

“It’s fine. I’m going to lie down in my room.”

He Wenqi pressed his stomach and fell onto the bed with his eyes closed.

His body was lying down, but his mind wouldn’t stop spinning. He was mulling over the follow-up collaboration he had discussed with Mr. Qin. In a daze, he fell asleep.

By the time Qiao Yuan woke him up, the sky was already dark.

“Brother Qi, this isn’t right. Let’s go to the hospital. I called you for a long time before you woke up, and your forehead is so hot—you likely have a fever. Did you just pass out from the fever?”

He Wenqi’s head was indeed very heavy, but going to the hospital was too much trouble. He rolled up the quilt and wrapped himself inside: “I’m not going. Just pour me a cup of water. I’ll be fine after a sleep.”

Qiao Yuan couldn’t argue with him. He limped to bring him water, only to see him shivering while clutching the quilt. He found a thermometer to check; it had already reached 40 degrees Celsius (104°F).

“No, Brother Qi, you—you must go to the hospital. Can you get up?” Qiao Yuan pushed a few times, but with his leg injury, he couldn’t use any strength and instead fell onto the bed himself.

The phone in his pocket fell out, coincidentally sliding open and touching something. It connected to a call without him knowing.

Qiao Yuan was pulling at the person on the bed; he had no time to worry about a phone. He Wenqi was naturally taller, and being limp made him seem even heavier; Qiao Yuan simply couldn’t move him.

“He Wenqi, wake up right now! we have to go to the hospital!” Qiao Yuan couldn’t pull him and got angry.

“Hello? Mr. Qiao Yuan? What happened?” The call had connected to Han Ji.

“Sorry, Mr. Han, the phone was touched by mistake. I’m busy with something here; I’ll contact you when I’m free.” Qiao Yuan was panting heavily.

“Wait, He Wenqi… what’s wrong with him?”

“He has a fever. He needs to go to the hospital, but I can’t move him.”

“Where are you?”

“At home.”

“Send me the address.”

Qiao Yuan picked up the phone on the bed, approved Han Ji’s WeChat request, and sent the address.

Han Ji: Wait for me.

Half an hour later, there was a short, sharp knock on the door.

Han Ji had taken a taxi. The driver of the business car he used for work had driven home, and since he returned to the country in a hurry, he hadn’t picked up a new car yet.

“Mr. Han.” Qiao Yuan opened the door to welcome him in.

Han Ji was wearing a knee-length black wool coat over suit trousers and leather shoes, but he wore only a shirt underneath. The collar was unbuttoned and wide open, with the collar half-folded and half-standing.

The corners of his eyes were slightly red—unknown if from the cold or the wind. His soft, short hair was messy, and his bangs were parted to both sides.

“Where is he?” Han Ji asked urgently, a far cry from his composed and stylish demeanor yesterday.

He Wenqi was curled in the quilt, shivering even harder than before. One could even hear his teeth chattering. His forehead was terrifyingly hot to the touch.

Without a word, Han Ji pulled him up, hoisted him onto his back, and walked out. He turned to Qiao Yuan and said: “Your leg is inconvenient. I’ll message you once we’re at the hospital.”

Qiao Yuan could only nod.

He Wenqi was dreaming again.

It was another rainy day he hated.

The rain pitter-pattered, creating ripples in the muddy water. He Wenqi lingered on the steps of the first floor of the teaching building. His classmates laughed and played as they passed him by. Before long, the entire building fell silent, as if he were the only one left.

Someone ruffled his hair: “What are you waiting for? Why aren’t you going home?”

He Wenqi turned around and saw Han Ji opening an umbrella beside him, his small eyes hesitant.

Han Ji smiled and handed him the umbrella, then turned his back and squatted down in front of him: “Come on up. Help me hold the umbrella.”

He Wenqi climbed onto Han Ji’s thin back, happily kicking his small feet.

Han Ji commanded: “Don’t move around, it’ll hurt if you fall.”

He Wenqi sat up straight obediently, his cheek pressed against the hollow of Han Ji’s nape. The woody scent filled his nose and face.

His eyelids were tired. He nuzzled against the woody scent and murmured: “Brother Ji, I’m going to sleep for a bit.”

“Okay.”

…