He tricked the female lead into becoming his boyfriend, but then went on to criticize the male lead.

While others send flowers to express their happiness, she prefers roses with thorny stems.

She would simply cut off all the petals, leaving only the cold, thorny branches, and hand them to him with a smile.

As a child, he didn't understand and naively thought it was a gift. He reached out to take it, but each time he was pricked by the sharp thorns, leaving his hands covered in tiny wounds, and his fingertips turned red and bled from the pain.

Wen Ruzhi stood to the side, smiling as she watched his eyes redden with pain. There was no pity in her eyes, only a morbid pleasure.

not only that.

When no one was around, she would use these thorny branches to whip his arms and back; she would lock him in a dark, deserted room for the slightest mistake he made, leaving him to cry and scream all night without a care; she would say all sorts of hurtful things to him and deny everything about him.

What's most egregious is that she often whispers in her father's ear, repeatedly implying and slandering him, saying that he has a gloomy, withdrawn, and obsessive personality, suffers from a serious mental illness, and is a twisted child.

Over time, even his father, who didn't love him to begin with, accepted the label of "abnormal" and became increasingly cold and distant towards him.

At five years old, it was the peak of his darkest childhood and the beginning of the fragmentation of his memories.

He remembered that it was his fifth birthday, and the villa was unusually lively that day.

That same day, his mother accidentally witnessed Wen Ruzhi abusing him.

The two closest people completely broke off relations, arguing and making a scene. The villa was in chaos, with the sounds of quarreling, cursing, and breaking objects all mixed together.

After the chaos subsided, he developed a high fever that clouded his mind. When he woke up, all the specific images of that day had vanished, as if they had been forcibly erased from his mind.

He remembers nothing.

All he remembers is his father sitting by his bedside, his face cold, his tone weary and disappointed, telling him that it was his fault for being so unreasonable, for losing control of his emotions, and for pushing his mother down the stairs with his own hands.

These words, like a brand, have been etched into him for so many years.

After he turned five, Wen Ruzhi was personally sent abroad by her father and completely disappeared from his world.

He thought this person would never appear again in his life, and those dark nightmares would be buried in the past forever.

But now, this bouquet of rose stems, so familiar to me, tells me so clearly—

That woman has returned.

She returned, bringing with her the shadow of his deepest fears, and re-entered his life.

He even felt as if he had returned to the age of five, that helpless, weak, bullied, unloved, and unsupported child.

"President Fu? President Fu, wake up!"

Qin Shen's anxious calls came through her ears, one after another, filled with obvious panic.

Fu Yanchen was immersed in nightmarish memories, his whole body tense and stiff, his face frighteningly pale, his lips devoid of color, and his eyes churning with deep gloom and obsession. His aura was so cold that no one dared to approach him.

Qin Shen had never seen him so distraught and terrified. He was extremely flustered and could only call out to him repeatedly, afraid that he would faint again.

After being called four or five times, Fu Yanchen's stiff body finally moved slightly, his unfocused eyes slowly refocused, and he gradually pulled himself out of the dark memories and back to the reality of the ward.

He exhaled a long, suppressed breath, raised his hand and pinched his throbbing brow, pressing hard on the acupoint between his eyebrows with his fingertips, trying to suppress the fear and anger surging in his heart.

His voice was low and hoarse, carrying a hint of barely perceptible fatigue and tremor, yet his tone was unusually firm:

"Qin Shen, contact the most authoritative psychologist immediately and have him come see me right now."

He never mentioned that past to Zhou Renqing.

☆

A couple of days ago, Sang Jiuning casually complained, "The table is too hard, it's uncomfortable."

Wen Zhaoci completely replaced her desk with a new one that was soft and rounded, large in size, comfortable to look at and fit her body shape, clearly carefully chosen.

The afternoon sun streamed into the study through the floor-to-ceiling windows, landing on the clean desk with a warm glow.

Sang Jiuning couldn't bear to look at the new desk when a lazy, magnetic voice came from behind her.

"Wife."

Wen Zhaoci walked over slowly, his tall figure gently encircling her between the desk and himself. He lowered his head slightly, his gaze fixed on the little girl in front of him, his eyes filled with subtle smiles, and a roguish smile curled at the corner of his lips.

"We got a new table. Want to try it out for yourself and see if it still hurts your butt?"

His tone was ambiguous and tender, with a slight upward inflection at the end, full of humor.

Sang Jiuning stiffened, her cheeks flushed slightly, and she instinctively shrank back, not daring to look him in the eye.

She knew this person was always looking to cause trouble.

"Don't fool around in broad daylight." Sang Jiuning turned her head slightly, her voice soft, with a hint of helpless reproach, but her ears were completely red.

It's still daytime, the sun is shining brightly, how can it be so alluring anytime, anywhere?

Wen Zhaoci watched her shy and evasive appearance, and his low laughter echoed in the study, gentle yet seductive.

"Okay, I'll listen to my wife and not cause trouble during the day."

He deliberately slowed his speech, leaned close to her ear, and whispered, "Then I'll save it up and make a scene tonight."

Sang Jiuning's cheeks burned even hotter. She raised her hand and gently pushed him, but it wasn't very strong; it was more like she was being coquettish.

Wen Zhaoci straightened up, intending to tease him a bit more, when his phone suddenly rang urgently in his pocket, breaking the ambiguous atmosphere in the room.

He took out his phone and saw that the caller ID was Lu Xiangyang. The smile in his eyes faded slightly, and his previous laziness and casualness disappeared, replaced by the composure and coldness of a person in power.

He reached out and gently ruffled Sang Jiuning's hair, his voice soothing and comforting: "I'll take this call."

Sang Jiuning nodded obediently, took a step back, and stood quietly to the side.

The moment the call connected, Lu Xiangyang's calm yet anxious voice came through clearly to both of them: "President, a major problem has occurred at the African mining project. Wen Zhaozhe has led a group of local tribal leaders in a strike, completely halting operations at the mine and bringing the project to a standstill. At the current rate, the company is incurring continuous losses every day, and the amount is constantly increasing..."

Wen Zhaoci frowned slightly, tapping her phone lightly with her fingertips. Her expression remained calm, and she listened to the report without the slightest panic.

He knew Wen Zhaoci's methods all too well; she was simply taking advantage of his peace of mind to deliberately cause trouble and annoy him.

"No need to go into the details of the losses," Wen Zhaoci interrupted directly, her tone crisp and decisive, carrying an unquestionable resolve. "You immediately lead a team to fly there, connect with all the local officials, take the initiative to negotiate, and stabilize the situation in the mining area."

Lu Xiangyang's tone became increasingly troubled: "President, I've tried, but the local elders are very adamant. They insist that you personally come to communicate with them. They don't recognize anyone else, so it's impossible to reach an agreement."