Lin Hui hurried to the company and it was already 7:30 a.m. by the time he arrived.
At around 2 or 3 in the morning, He Jian Shan had stepped out to take a phone call and then told Lin Hui that there was an urgent matter with the overseas project, and he needed to go to the company for a meeting. Lin Hui initially thought about getting up and going with him, but He Jian Shan pressed him back down: “Sleep a little longer.”
Lin Hui had been a bit on edge the past couple of days due to a small incident involving them at a bar, but thankfully, the company’s PR team stepped up their efforts. Plus, with the rapid shift of internet hot topics, netizens eventually moved on after some playful gossip. He finally relaxed and managed to sleep well.
Seeing Lin Hui lie back down, He Jian Shan sat on the edge of the bed, stroked his hair, and whispered softly, “Bring me some breakfast when you come to work.”
Although He Jian Shan’s voice was gentle and soft, his actions tickled Lin Hui a bit, causing him to close his eyes and shoo him away: “…Got it, now go…”
He Jian Shan chuckled, kissed Lin Hui, and then left.
When Lin Hui woke up again, it was his usual time to get up. As he habitually checked the news on his phone while brushing his teeth—
He froze.
Lin Hui rushed to Wan Zhu as fast as he could. Upon reaching his office, he saw Zhao Xiao Xiao, who usually arrived a bit late, already at her desk, frowning and deeply engrossed in her phone. Lin Hui tapped the desk and called out, “Xiao Xiao.”
Zhao Xiao Xiao jolted, hurriedly hiding her phone behind her. Realizing how suspicious that looked, she blushed, brought it back out and stammered, “Lin, Lin Assistant—”
“Where’s President He?” Since He Jian Shan wasn’t in his office, he must be in a meeting with PR and legal affairs.
“President He is in Conference Room 2.”
Before Zhao Xiao Xiao could stop him, Lin Hui was already running toward the elevator.
Conference Room 2 was on the eighth floor. When Lin Hui reached the door, it was firmly shut, and he could faintly hear voices inside. Just as he was about to push the door open, someone called out to him—
“Assistant Lin!” It was Annie.
Annie looked troubled as she blocked the conference room door.
“Annie?”
After a moment of silence, she spoke softly, “Assistant Lin, President He asked you to wait for him in his office.”
Lin Hui paused, not responding immediately. He turned his gaze toward the heavy door and let out a long breath.
After a while, he replied, “Okay, I understand.”
Lin Hui slowly calmed down and was just about to turn away when Annie, seemingly unable to bear it, called out again, “Assistant Lin—”
“Is there something else?”
Annie hesitated for a long time before finally asking, “Have you had breakfast?”
Lin Hui smiled suddenly.
Annie and he had joined Wan Zhu on the same day. Over eight years, they had become colleagues who worked well together and also cared for each other as friends. He knew what Annie wanted to say and nodded, “I have.”
He paused and then added, “It’s alright.”
Lin Hui quickly returned to He Jian Shan’s office to wait for him to finish the meeting. Outside, Zhao Xiao Xiao was once again unable to resist checking her phone, rapidly typing something, looking quite annoyed. Lin Hui leaned against the door and watched for a while, eventually unable to hold back a laugh, “Enough, don’t quarrel online.”
“Watch me take them down—” Zhao Xiao Xiao looked up, saw Lin Hui, and swallowed the rest of her words.
Lin Hui chuckled again.
Zhao Xiao Xiao whispered, “Assistant Lin, how can you still laugh…”
Lin Hui appeared relaxed, “What should we do then, mobilize everyone at Wan Zhu to post online?”
Zhao Xiao Xiao fell silent. After a moment, she said, “Assistant Lin, they haven’t even met you; they don’t know.”
Her eyes were slightly red, but Lin Hui, seemingly curious, asked, “And what do you know?”
Zhao Xiao Xiao earnestly replied, “I know President He will handle everything. Don’t worry, Assistant Lin.”
Lin Hui fell silent for a while, then said softly, “If one person could solve everything, they’d have to bear unimaginable pressure.”
Zhao Xiao Xiao was stunned, but Lin Hui suddenly stood up straight, looking gently ahead—
A few steps away, He Jian Shan was standing there, quietly watching him.
The office clock pointed to 8, and the morning sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, heralding another clear day.
“I didn’t bring you breakfast.” As he said this, Lin Hui leaned casually against the desk, not showing the slightest bit of guilt.
He Jian Shan smiled, “It’s okay, I’ve already eaten.”
Lin Hui paused, then asked, “What did PR say?”
He Jian Shan unbuttoned his shirt cuffs and spoke succinctly, “At first, they wanted to downplay it.”
All crisis PR primarily aims to calm the situation and lower its visibility, often by avoiding—blurring the conflict and reducing its presence. While this seems like a passive approach, dodging or diverting the core issue doesn’t actually resolve the problem. However, news is temporal, and the internet further shortens this window. Over time, things naturally pass, and even if brought up again, they won’t cause much of a stir.
Lin Hui nodded, “The usual approach.”
“I didn’t agree,” He Jian Shan added.
Lin Hui looked at him.
He Jian Shan looked back, “I said, ‘Lin Hui is my boyfriend.’”
Lin Hui was taken aback, then smiled helplessly, “Fan Yu must be going crazy.”
He Jian Shan also smiled.
Fan Yu is Wan Zhu’s PR director. In fact, when He Jian Shan declared “Lin Hui” in the conference room, the entire room fell into a deathly silence—this was the most problematic answer.
He Jian Shan acknowledging Lin Hui’s role in front of everyone meant that in handling this “scandal,” Lin Hui and He Jian Shan were placed on equally important grounds. The PR department couldn’t dare ask their boss why such crucial information hadn’t been shared with them earlier. They had assumed the two were just closely associated colleagues, and suddenly revealing a romantic relationship took them by surprise. Although they were stunned by the news of their same-sex love, they were relieved that it involved Lin Hui.
Fortunate, yet unfortunate.
Lin Hui remembered something else, “Did you report the surveillance video incident to the police? This isn’t like the photos that leaked by accident a few days ago; it was clearly done on purpose.”
“All involved, including those spreading rumors and marketing accounts, won’t get away.”
Lin Hui hesitated, then asked, “Could it be—Feng Juntao’s doing?”
They had never discussed Feng Ying’s matter privately, but knowing He Jian Shan, he wouldn’t let it slide, and it was likely not just a legal matter. Perhaps this was retaliation?
“It’s hard to say. Wan Zhu has been a big target over the years, and there are many who secretly wish to take a stab at us. A bar’s surveillance isn’t exactly a troublesome matter,” He Jian Shan replied, then looked at Lin Hui.
“What’s wrong?”
“Do you really not need a hug?” He Jian Shan sincerely suggested.
Lin Hui couldn’t help but chuckle, “It’s okay, compared to your depraved emperor image, I’m quite capable as your Lin Daji—unless you want me to do as the internet says and jump into your arms, crying and shouting ‘husband, help me’?”
He Jian Shan raised an eyebrow, “Say it again.”
Lin Hui refused, but not entirely, “I’ll say it at home tonight.”
In fact, Lin Hui himself hadn’t expected to remain so calm in the face of even greater malice than four years ago. Except for initially feeling anxious when he discovered there was trouble, he wasn’t angry or sad while waiting for He Jian Shan; he was more concerned about how to quickly and effectively handle the situation. Perhaps the online fabrications were too absurd and far from his own reality; he couldn’t even get angry, only finding it ridiculously funny.
However, the one thing he couldn’t tolerate was becoming He Jian Shan’s “stain”. Many criticized and mocked him, not for the rumors about him, but to demean He Jian Shan: the dirtier Lin Hui was perceived, the more despicable He Jian Shan appeared. They gleefully used Lin Hui to validate their belief that He Jian Shan had been fishing for fame all these years, and they were eager to stamp this as a predictable “crash.”
In others’ mouths, pens, and keyboards, he became an arrow, one aimed at He Jian Shan.
“Fan Yu hopes I start a personal Weibo account to gradually release details about our relationship or love story, to create a loving image and dilute the negative one,” Lin Hui shared with a smile.
“Do we need to create this?” He Jian Shan looked seriously at Lin Hui, “It’s the most precious thing in my heart, not a commodity for others to rate and discuss.”
Human malice doesn’t dissipate with honesty; instead, it provides fodder for further frenzy. He could make their relationship public, breaking the notion of “sponsoring” or “unwritten rules,” but he would never allow a crowd to peek at or judge their love.
Lin Hui’s smile faded, and after a long while, he said softly, “You’re giving Fan Yu a tough job.”
“Come here,” He Jian Shan opened his arms.
Lin Hui walked over.
“I’m sorry,” He Jian Shan held him tightly. If it weren’t for his carelessness, Lin Hui wouldn’t have ended up in such a dire situation, and thinking about this, he couldn’t let it go.
Lin Hui shook his head, “Didn’t you say that even a CEO makes mistakes, and besides, this isn’t your fault.”
“I’ve arranged for someone to contact Wei Xuan. We’ll soon release detailed information about Zhou Donghui’s death.”
“Will she agree? And it’s been so long, is it appropriate to disturb her now?”
“She will agree, after all, I’m very wealthy.”
Lin Hui couldn’t help but laugh.
“Afterward, Wan Zhu Group will officially announce our relationship and the contributions you’ve made over the years, like the projects you’ve participated in, maybe even some of your video footage, just that. Is that okay?”
Lin Hui closed his eyes, “I have no reason to refuse. But you might need to explain things to the shareholders.”
He Jian Shan’s arrangements were all made considering Lin Hui: revealing the truth about four years ago to lift the burden of having caused an employee’s death; having the company officially declare their relationship to clear his name; listing his contributions and achievements to show everyone his excellence… However, in the eyes of the shareholders, was this using the reputation of Wan Zhu to endorse He Jian Shan’s lover?
Using public resources for personal purposes, a big taboo.
He Jian Shan was well aware that this approach would face strong opposition, but he refused the PR’s suggestions to downplay or handle it softly, instead demanding immediate action to clear Lin Hui of negative public opinion.
He couldn’t bear to see Lin Hui hurt.
“Don’t worry about that, I’ll handle it. Instead of fretting over this minor issue, help me think about the Ninghai project.”
Lin Hui and He Jian Shan had been grinding through discussions with local government for the Ninghai project over two years, with plans repeatedly revised and communications ongoing, even as the leadership changed. Now, with the project finally set to be signed right after the New Year, and with the original project leader having resigned just as the festive season approached, finding someone at Wan Zhu, rich as it might be, was not going to be easy.
Lin Hui opened his eyes, “…Ninghai… When does it need to be finalized…”
“In March, Ninghai has an annual ‘Spring Green Ninghai’ trade and investment fair, where our project will be highlighted during the signing ceremony.”
“…March.” Lin Hui smiled a bit, “March is good, a season when spring is in full bloom.”
Just as He Jian Shan had said, Wan Zhu acted swiftly. The company first sued a batch of rumor-mongers, forcing platforms to block numerous accounts; it then released the detailed circumstances of Zhou Donghui’s death four years ago, including some of the initial communications between He Jian Shan and Wei Xuan. Back then, out of humanitarian considerations, Wan Zhu had eventually released the investigation findings, but hadn’t disclosed all the evidence, letting Wei Xuan delete her posts and apologize to resolve the issue. This time, with her agreement, they fully clarified the matter, and Wei Xuan formally apologized to Lin Hui.
Subsequently, those behind the leaked video were identified, unsurprisingly, as bar staff: someone had paid him to carefully search for surveillance footage involving He Jian Shan and Lin Hui, and he indeed found something shocking. Although the mastermind hadn’t been identified yet, based on the available clues, it seemed unlikely to be Feng Ying’s doing.
He Jian Shan was not surprised, “Although Feng Ying is foolish, Feng Juntao is a clever man.”
Back when he had those two lackeys beat Feng Ying to a pulp, Feng Juntao had been furious yet dared not speak out, cursing his son for still being obsessed with wine and women at nearly thirty, and had decisively cut off all dealings between Ruitao and Wan Zhu, a loss that almost made him want to beat his son himself.
With these two matters publicized, combined with appropriate media strategies, the online atmosphere finally eased a bit. But as Lin Hui had always worried, He Jian Shan’s real battleground was never on the internet, but in reality—he began to frequently face the shareholders’ inquiries.
Honestly, at Wan Zhu’s scale, shareholders mostly represented underlying relationships and interests. While Wan Zhu belonged to the He family, its growth and strength indeed depended on a tangled network of relationships and substantial resource injections. And the inevitable power struggles that followed were something no company could avoid.
He Jian Shan had always been resolute and autocratic. Online voices meant little to him, and his fury this time stemmed from a breach of his red line. Four years ago, He Jian Shan had fought a major battle over this red line, and now it was happening again. In truth, the shareholders didn’t care whether He Jian Shan preferred men or women, or even if he wanted to date an alien, but because Lin Hui had always been He Jian Shan’s assistant and was now the group’s vice president, everything became delicate.
Especially now that He Jian Shan was about to officially announce his relationship with Lin Hui.
Same-sex relationships were not mainstream, and once announced, Lin Hui’s position would certainly be secure, but it would undoubtedly impact Wan Zhu significantly—almost disregarding the group’s overall interests. Setting aside personal feelings, was the vice president role held by Lin Hui worth such protection from Wan Zhu? And could He Jian Shan alone truly be powerful enough to recover any losses that might follow the announcement?
Everyone was waiting.
