She Is Not the Other Woman - Chapter 8
Chapter 8
Song Zhiyi arrived neither early nor late.
The lights over the check-in desk were warm. She stood there and registered her name, her handwriting steady.
The navy dress was a gift from Fu Wenzhou. So were the earrings. So was the clavicle necklace.
From head to toe, she was dressed in his taste.
She needed him to feel that everything was under control.
The hall was already more than half full. Shanyu’s latest round of financing was no small sum, and the guest list was a mixed bag-investors, financial advisors, several financial media outlets, and two analysts from corporate credit-rating firms.
Song Zhiyi was led to the right side of the second row. She had just sat down when her phone vibrated.
A message from Lin Zhi: “You’re there?”
“I’m here. Second row.”
“I won’t show up. But everything is in place.”
Song Zhiyi didn’t reply. She flipped her phone facedown on her lap.
The lights dimmed. The host went onstage and spent three minutes going over industry data before inviting Shanyu Technology’s founder and CEO, Fu Wenzhou, to the stage.
Applause rang out.
Fu Wenzhou wore a dark gray suit with a white shirt and no tie. He took the stage with an easy, relaxed air.
He spoke about the logic behind the financing, the technical barriers, the team. Every section flowed so smoothly it might have been rehearsed.
Song Zhiyi listened, her expression perfectly measured-focused, composed, with the occasional smile.
Twelve minutes later, his tone shifted.
“Lastly, I want to thank one person.”
He turned slightly, his gaze passing over the front row to land on her face.
“My wife is here today as well. Over the years I’ve been building this company, she has taken on so much.”
He smiled, his voice carrying just the right amount of sincerity.
A wave of well-meaning applause filled the room.
In the second row, Song Zhiyi lifted her hands and applauded.
Palm met palm at an unhurried, even rhythm. A smile lingered at the corners of her mouth.
Fu Wenzhou saw that smile and relaxed.
Once he relaxed, so did she.
The banquet followed the speech.
Place cards had been set around the round tables. She and Fu Wenzhou were both at the main table, separated by one partner between them. Fu Wenzhou leaned over and asked if she wanted to switch to something warm.
“No need. This is fine.” She lifted her sparkling water and smiled at the investor’s wife across from her.
Everything was as usual.
But not entirely.
The first sign came before the main course was served. Chen Li, seated diagonally across from her-one of Shanyu’s early investors-took a phone call. When he came back, the way he looked at Fu Wenzhou had changed.
It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t even suspicion.
It was a kind of reassessment.
Like someone had suddenly reminded him that a painting’s authenticity was in doubt.
Fu Wenzhou noticed it too.
Holding his wineglass, he walked over, clinked glasses with Chen Li, and said something. Chen Li smiled and responded, but the smile faded faster than it usually would.
When Fu Wenzhou turned back around, the line of his shoulders went taut for an instant.
Song Zhiyi lowered her head and drank her water without looking at him.
The second sign came during dessert. A financial advisory partner came over to toast them and suddenly asked, “Sister-in-law, you studied law too?”
Song Zhiyi smiled. “For my bachelor’s degree. I didn’t end up working in the field.”
The man nodded, his tone casual. “That’s good. People who understand the law know where the boundaries are.”
The comment came out of nowhere, but Fu Wenzhou heard it.
He glanced at Song Zhiyi. Song Zhiyi did not look back.
After the banquet ended, they walked out of the hotel together. The designated driver was already waiting by the entrance.
Fu Wenzhou opened the car door and let her get in first.
The moment the door closed, he suddenly said, “Did Chen Li say something to you today?”
“No,” Song Zhiyi said calmly as she fastened her seat belt. “He told me his daughter is applying to the University of Hong Kong next year and asked if I knew anyone.”
Fu Wenzhou looked at her profile, seeming to want to ask more, but the designated driver had already started the car.
He leaned back against the seat and said nothing else.
Her phone lay on silent inside her handbag.
She didn’t need to check it.
At three o’clock that afternoon, Lin Zhi had already confirmed it: the eight-page condensed version had been delivered into the hands of Chen Li, that financial advisory partner, and the head of the industry fund Shanyu was about to sign with.
No note. No signature.
Only a kraft paper envelope, with one handwritten line on the front:
“For reference.”
When Song Zhiyi got home, she showered, then picked up her phone.
Scheduled email countdown: 36 hours and 14 minutes.
She set the phone on the sink and turned off the light.
There was another hard battle tomorrow. She needed a full seven hours of sleep.
