Chapter Fifty-Two: Just You Wait

After Chen Hao and Gu Mengyan left home, they headed straight for Illusion Corporation. Along the way, Gu Mengyan never stopped muttering complaints to Chen Hao, all centered on his decision to contact Fan Yirou and do business together. She listed a litany of real and imagined faults about Fan Yirou, lambasting her until not a shred of worth remained.

“So, working with that insufferable Fan Yirou is an absolutely terrible idea. I strongly advise you to change your mind!” Gu Mengyan declared with conviction.

“What’s gotten into you? Weren’t you and Fan Yirou the best of friends? You were the one who invited her to stay at our house when we were young. If it weren’t for you, I’d never have known her. And you two always got on so well, didn’t you?

Sure, Yirou liked to tease people every now and then, but weren’t you the same? I grew up under both your mischievous shadows! Besides, those pranks were harmless. You never minded them before. You’d often tell me how interesting Fan Yirou was, how much fun you had together.

Honestly, I’d have thought you’d be happy I’m working with her—you’d have more time together!”

“Hmph!” Gu Mengyan snorted. She knew Chen Hao was right; she and Fan Yirou had always been close, and that hadn’t changed. Though the two of them bickered and nitpicked whenever they met, it was only because their friendship was so deep—a kind of friendly teasing unique to them. Men and women had different ways of showing such affection: men traded jabs, women squabbled.

But the real reason Gu Mengyan opposed the partnership was that her dearest friend might become—and in fact, already was—her rival in love.

Chen Hao might not notice Fan Yirou’s feelings for him, and perhaps not even Fan Yirou herself understood them fully. But as an outsider, Gu Mengyan saw it clearly: Fan Yirou had never treated any other man with such closeness. Since childhood, Fan Yirou barely spoke to other boys, and always rebuffed those who tried to win her favor. This was partly due to her family, but more so because none of those suitors suited her tastes or background.

TV dramas loved to tell tales of poor boys marrying rich girls, eloping against family opposition to live happily ever after—or of ordinary girls taming spoiled heirs, bickering their way to the altar. But Gu Mengyan dismissed such stories as utter nonsense; such things hardly ever happened in real life. Perhaps a couple might fall in love and be happy at first, but once marriage entered the equation, so did conflict.

If two people came from different social classes, their upbringings, values, and habits would be worlds apart. Take something as simple as milk: when Chen Hao and Gu Mengyan were children, most of their classmates from ordinary families drank milk delivered in glass bottles—a bit cheaper, though perhaps not as sanitary. Slightly better-off families bought boxed milk from the supermarket, pricier and maybe a bit cleaner, though with preservatives that weren’t exactly healthy. But children from very wealthy families like Chen Hao’s didn’t drink either; their milk was delivered fresh from dairies, guaranteed both fresh and safe. Their food, too, was specially sourced and delivered, not bought at the market.

Children raised in such environments developed certain habits quite naturally, and as adults, they’d continue to live as they always had—not out of extravagance, but simply out of habit. The same went for clothes: there might be little real difference between cheap online outfits and high-end brands, but children of privilege always preferred the latter, for quality and out of habit.

There were countless such examples. While these differences might not matter during courtship, marriage was another matter entirely, especially once there were children. Which way would the couple choose to raise them? Such differences inevitably bred conflict, which in turn eroded love. That was why Gu Mengyan and Fan Yirou both believed that too great a gap in social status spelled trouble—a reason why Fan Yirou turned away so many suitors.

Among those who pursued Fan Yirou, not all were poor; there were plenty from wealthy backgrounds, too. But perhaps due to bad luck, none of them could compare to Chen Hao—they were mostly spoiled playboys, flitting from party to party and girlfriend to girlfriend. Fan Yirou had no interest in any of them.

On top of that, Fan Yirou’s father, still grieving the loss of his wife, paid no attention to his daughter’s future. He’d never sought a suitable match for her.

So, for Fan Yirou, Chen Hao was her only real option. Gu Mengyan had long since seen this, leaving her torn between the man she loved and her closest friend. After the three of them reunited today, she noticed Fan Yirou was warmer than ever before, and panic gripped her. She was determined to oppose Chen Hao and Fan Yirou’s partnership.

But she had no reasonable grounds to object, so she could only whisper her protests in Chen Hao’s ear, hoping he’d heed her advice. Deep down, Gu Mengyan knew her efforts were futile. Both already wanted to work together, and even she had to admit that, from a business perspective, it was a good match. Still, she couldn’t swallow her resentment.

She’d already decided: if the two really did work together, she’d keep a close watch on Fan Yirou, never giving her a chance to be alone with Chen Hao.

So, listening to Gu Mengyan’s complaints all the way, Chen Hao drove to Illusion Corporation. When they arrived at their department, he was surprised to find no one at their desks; instead, everyone was packed into the meeting room.

“I didn’t hear about any meeting today,” Chen Hao said, puzzled. “And who’s that running the meeting? I don’t recognize her. Is she new management?”

Gu Mengyan shrugged. “Who cares? It’s not our concern anymore anyway.”

Just as they were about to leave for HR to hand in their resignations, the meeting’s host noticed them. She paused the meeting, pushed open the door, and came out. “You two—do you know what time it is? Get in here for the meeting, now!”

“Huh?” Chen Hao blinked in surprise.

“What do you mean, ‘huh’? Get in here, now!” The woman’s brow furrowed.

At that moment, Chen Hao and Gu Mengyan noticed Bill Andre in the meeting room, frantically signaling them not to argue.

Chen Hao scratched his head. “Who are you? I don’t think we’ve met.”

“Who am I?” She gave a cold laugh. “I’m the new head of the tech department! And as your new manager, I’m ordering you both to join the meeting.”

“Oh, I see!” Chen Hao finally understood her overbearing attitude—just like that rich kid who parachuted in years ago, all bluster and no warmth.

He grinned. “So that’s it! Sorry, but Gu Mengyan and I won’t be attending your meeting. Please, carry on without us.”

“What did you say?!” The woman looked as if she’d heard something unthinkable. “You must not have understood me. I am—”

Chen Hao cut her off, “I know, I know. I’m perfectly aware of who you are and your authority. But I’m sorry, starting today, I’m no longer an employee here. I’ve already decided to resign, and we’re here just to hand in our resignation letters. Whether it’s a meeting or a banquet, it has nothing to do with us anymore. So, you’ll have to excuse us. I wish you a pleasant and successful career.”

With that, Chen Hao smiled, took Gu Mengyan, and headed for HR, paying the new female manager no further mind.

She stood stunned, glaring after them, her teeth clenched in frustration. “Chen Hao, you just wait…”