After Divorce, My Ex-Wife Became My Creditor - Chapter 23 - Okay

“We at Rongyao are planning to establish a high-end building materials mall, targeting the current market gap. This will ensure that our renovation companies won’t have to go through the hassle of seeking building materials suppliers in other cities. Rongyao will provide the mall and property management, and we will also conduct brand audits to create the most upscale building materials mall. We hope to collaborate with Fenghua Decoration. The mall will inform the resident suppliers that our primary partner is Fenghua Decoration. During the mall’s construction, Rongyao Group’s external display screen will offer your company a fifteen-second advertisement slot, from the foundation laying to completion. Once the mall is finished, the prime advertising space at the main entrance will be reserved for your company for three years, free of charge. Assistant Su, please show Manager Li the design renderings.”

At this point, Su Liang had already pulled out a rather rough sketch from his bag. Fenghua’s chief designer looked at the sketch and frowned. “Is this even a design?” Han Qian chuckled at the reaction.

“Our company’s design department certainly can’t compare to yours, and this is just a draft. The detailed design might require your company’s assistance, and the fees will be calculated normally. I’ll do my best to secure the design rights for Fenghua. This is the purpose of today’s meeting. Of course, the initial promotion will also highlight your company’s influence. Secretary Yang, did you bring the contract?”

Han Qian pressed on, using the contract to express sincerity. But there was no contract. Yang Lan was unsure of Han Qian’s intentions and could only respond awkwardly.

“Mr. Han, a few other companies are in contact with us. We received a call earlier. Besides, Manager Li is already drunk. Let’s sign the contract when the mall construction begins.”

“Very well, since that’s the case, we have other matters to attend to. Please feel free, everyone. Secretary Yang, have you settled the bill?”

“Yes, Mr. Han.”

Han Qian stood up, smiling and nodding at the group. The dishes on the table remained untouched by the three of them.

Whether Fenghua agreed or not was irrelevant; they were of no use to Han Qian. He had already obtained the answers he sought, so there was no need to linger. As Yang Lan descended the stairs, she was already feeling dizzy. Exiting the Huatai Hotel, she crouched by the flowerbed and began to vomit.

No one could handle several glasses of baijiu on an empty stomach. Supporting Yang Lan into the car, Han Qian frowned as he drove.

“Liang, we might not get to eat for a while. I have a little one at home waiting to be fed. I’ll head home to cook first; it should take about twenty minutes. You order two takeouts to be delivered to the office. I haven’t eaten for a day and a night.”

“Got it! You get out, and I’ll drive. Where’s your place?”

“Shanshui Estate.”

Han Qian felt utterly exhausted, yet deep down, there was a twisted sense of satisfaction. He relished the fatigue and busyness that work brought. The elevator was still under repair, so he climbed to the eleventh floor, took off his suit, tied on an apron, and dialed Wen Nuan’s number on his phone.

“Hello, Han Qian.”

Wen Nuan seemed to have been sleeping, her voice was lazy and weak. Han Qian busily chopped vegetables, speaking softly.

“I got caught skipping work this morning and have to stay late at the office tonight, so I won’t be coming home. I’m cooking dinner for you right now. I bought a thermal container and will leave it under the sofa cushion-make sure you eat it and don’t order takeout. I’ve left some medicine on the table; remember to take two pills! Don’t throw them away secretly. And don’t open the door for anyone tonight; I have my keys.”

“Yeah, I got it, Han Qian, you’re such a nag. Why don’t you come work at Changxiang? That way, you can keep an eye on me all the time.”

“Go and play fight with Lin Zongheng? Stop sleeping, wake up and drink some water.”

“Ah!!! I know, stop nagging.”

Wen Nuan let out an irritated shriek and hung up the phone, then slumped over her desk, staring at her phone’s call log filled with Han Qian’s calls, inwardly grumbling about how annoying it was, yet a slight smile played on her lips.

At that moment, a noisy commotion came from outside.

The company’s acting president had returned from abroad. Lin Zongheng had been anxious all morning not seeing Wen Nuan and after finishing his work in the afternoon, he heard that Vice President Wen had returned. He hurried over, only to be stopped by the secretary at the door.

Lin Zongheng was furious. Pushing past the secretary, he opened the door and saw the languid Wen Nuan. His throat involuntarily tightened; the woman had become more beautiful over the three years, shedding her youthful naivety for a mature allure, especially those legs visible from across the desk-almost driving Lin Zongheng to distraction.

His anger dissipated, replaced by a gentle smile.

“Nuan, I’m back.”

Wen Nuan slowly turned her head to glance at Lin Zongheng and then laid her head back down on the desk to look out the window, merely responding with an “Oh.”

Lin Zongheng, with his 1.85 meters and long legs, had the handsome face and hairstyle of a Korean heartthrob. His Italian tailored suit made him look impeccable, but for some reason, Wen Nuan found herself uninterested in him.

Every time she recalled the female voices over the phone, Wen Nuan felt a wave of nausea.

Since leaving, Wen Nuan had come to realize something: she might not like Lin Zongheng at all. He was the only peer she had growing up-playing together as children, attending school together, graduating together. Wen Nuan went to the company, he went abroad.

Wen Nuan had never talked about dating or marrying him.

It had been three years for both; Lin Zongheng abroad for three years, Han Qian by her side for three years. Han Qian could abstain from smoking for three years, yet Lin couldn’t control his desires?

Noticing Wen Nuan’s indifference, Lin Zongheng paused, a frown creasing his forehead as he stepped forward and reached out to touch her shoulder, softly saying,

“Nuan, are you feeling unwell?”

The moment he touched her, Wen Nuan abruptly sat up and leaned back, her movement leaving Lin Zongheng frozen in place. Used to teasing Han Qian, Wen Nuan felt no discomfort, frowning and murmuring softly.

“I caught a cold, don’t want to pass it to you.”

Lin Zongheng chuckled.

“Not worried. Didn’t you always stick to me when you caught a cold as a kid? Have you taken any medicine? I know a great doctor. Come on, get ready, I’ll take you to see them.”

Lin Zongheng was still stuck with the image of Wen Nuan from three years ago. Back then, she was like a little tag-along, a docile young woman who never refused Lin Zongheng’s decisions as long as they didn’t cross any boundaries. But the Wen Nuan of today was not the same as three years ago. She gently shook her head.

“Maybe I just caught a chill. I got an IV drip this morning. It’s nothing serious.”

“An IV drip? I remember you were always scared of those. Let me see.”

“Cold~ don’t want to move.”

With her hands tucked inside her sleeves, Wen Nuan wrinkled her nose and spoke softly.

Another refusal made Lin Zongheng feel a twinge of displeasure. The current Wen Nuan wouldn’t let him get close or take care of her, yet Lin Zongheng still smiled.

“Nuan, it’s been three years since we last met. I have a lot to talk to you about. I’ve booked a restaurant. Let’s go after work.”

Wen Nuan shook her head pitifully, hands still tucked inside her sleeves.

“I have a cold. Han Qian bought me medicine and left it at home. He also cooked for me. I haven’t eaten out in three years, haven’t ordered takeout. I’m not used to it anymore.”

This statement struck Lin Zongheng like a bolt from the blue.

Han Qian, Han Qian.

Habit, habit.

Has Han Qian become a habit in Wen Nuan’s heart?

Suppressing his anger, Lin Zongheng gritted his teeth and spoke in a low voice.

“Aren’t you two already divorced? Once you recover from your cold, I’ll cook for you myself.”

With that, he turned to leave, but Wen Nuan suddenly spoke as he reached the door.

“I don’t eat Western food anymore. It’s not tasty.”

Lin Zongheng nearly slammed the door in frustration. What on earth is this Han Qian? In just three years, he’s managed to change Wen Nuan’s habits of twenty years?

Lin Zongheng left, and Wen Nuan picked up her phone to call Han Qian.

“Han Qian, I want to eat tomato beef stew, I want braised pork, I want to eat everything. Han Qian… I’m not happy.”

Wen Nuan didn’t know why she was crying, but tears kept falling, and all she heard on the other end of the line was a single word.

“Okay.”

In fact, Han Qian had been waiting for Wen Nuan’s call. He knew Lin Zongheng would visit her today. If this call came, he wouldn’t consider himself redundant. If it didn’t, the house would be left to Wen Nuan.

Wen Nuan said she wanted to eat everything, but she didn’t mention her absolute favorites.

Han Qian called the supermarket to have groceries delivered and asked Su Liang to wait at the office. From the moment he stepped into the kitchen until now, he had only managed to chop a single green onion.