The defeat at the gala festered in Mu Bai like a splinter. He, who was accustomed to command and compliance, had been publicly neutered by his former doormat of a wife. The memory of her in that emerald gown, luminous and sharp-tongued, haunted him. It conflicted violently with the image of the woman who used to wait up for him with perfectly prepared tea.
He found himself doing irrational things. He had his assistant cancel his meetings for the morning under the flimsy pretext of "strategic planning," which involved him pacing his penthouse and glaring out the window at the cityscape, as if he could somehow see into Wen Lan's apartment—and her life—across the way.
His eyes landed on a small, forgotten porcelain vase on a shelf. It was cheap, a gift from the amnesiac Wen Lan during their first year of marriage. She'd bought it with her own allowance, her eyes shining with pride at her small, tasteful choice. He had given it a condescending nod, thinking it quaint. Now, the memory felt like an accusation.
A plan, desperate and utterly beneath his dignity, formed in his mind. It was childish. He knew it was childish. But the need to reassert some form of presence, to provoke a reaction—any reaction other than cool dismissal—was overwhelming.
He called his assistant. "I need you to find a florist. Not our usual one. A small, local shop called... 'Zhou's Blooms' or something similar. I need a bouquet of sunflowers delivered to Wen Lan at her office today. Anonymously."
There was a stunned silence on the other end. "Sunflowers, sir? And... anonymous?"
"Did I stutter?" Mu Bai snapped, his ears burning. He hung up, feeling a profound sense of foolishness. What was he trying to prove? That he knew she liked sunflowers now? That he could mimic the gestures of the florist? It was pathetic.
At Lan Wei Consulting, Wen Lan was reviewing a client portfolio when a junior intern knocked tentatively on her door, holding a massive, almost aggressively cheerful bouquet of sunflowers.
"These... these just arrived for you, Ms. Wen."
Wen Lan looked up, her brow furrowing. The flowers were beautiful, but something about them felt off. They were too perfect, too large, arranged with a generic, expensive flair that lacked the personal, artful touch Zhou Yu always imbued in his work. There was no card.
Lin Wei popped her head in. "Ooh, admirers already? And sunflowers! Your new favorite."
"Apparently," Wen Lan said slowly, her eyes narrowing. She picked up her phone and sent a quick text to Zhou Yu. Did you just send a bouquet to my office?
The reply was almost instantaneous. No! But I'm jealous of the competition! ;) Want me to send a better one?
A cold, knowing smile touched Wen Lan's lips. She knew. Of course, she knew. The anonymity, the clumsy choice of flower—it reeked of Mu Bai's arrogant, floundering attempt to get under her skin. He had seen Zhou Yu bring her sunflowers and was now trying to co-opt the gesture, to insert himself into her narrative on his own terms.
It was a declaration of war, albeit a comically inept one.
Instead of annoyance, she felt a surge of pure, unadulterated satisfaction. He was watching. He was reacting. He was bothered. This was better than any overt confrontation.
She picked up the bouquet, walked to the common area, and placed it prominently on the reception desk. "These are lovely, but they're a bit too bright for my office," she announced to the room at large. "Everyone, please feel free to take a bloom for your desk. Enjoy."
Her staff, delighted, descended on the bouquet, chattering and laughing. Within minutes, the grandiose arrangement was dismantled, its individual components adding splashes of yellow to various workstations. The symbol of Mu Bai's covert advance had been publicly disassembled and redistributed, rendered utterly meaningless.
When Mu Bai's assistant, acting on his secret directive to "gauge the reaction," casually called the front desk later, the receptionist gushed, "Oh, the sunflowers? They were beautiful! Ms. Wen was so generous, she shared them with the whole office! Everyone loved them."
The message relayed back to Mu Bai made him want to put his fist through a wall. She hadn't been touched, or curious, or even irritated. She had been charitable. She had taken his expensive, calculated gesture and treated it like corporate confetti. The humiliation was absolute.
That evening, as fate would have it, they arrived at the elevator bank of their apartment building at the same time. The air crackled with unspoken words.
Mu Bai, unable to help himself, glanced at her. "I see you received flowers." He tried to sound disinterested.
Wen Lan kept her eyes on the descending elevator numbers. "I did. It was very kind of someone. They brightened the entire office." She finally turned her head, her gaze cool and direct. "It's important for morale, don't you think? A happy team is a productive team. It's a basic principle of good management. But then," she paused, a flicker of mockery in her eyes, "you were always more focused on the macro level, weren't you? The little things never were your forte."
The elevator doors slid open. She stepped in gracefully, leaving him standing there, gut-punched.
The "little things." The cheap vase. Her favorite tea. The way she liked her books arranged. All the little things he had dismissed as beneath his notice. She was systematically dismantling him, not with shouts or lawsuits, but with quiet, precise reminders of his every failure as a husband.
He stepped into the elevator, the silence between them heavier than any argument. He stared at her profile, this beautiful, infuriating stranger who held the key to a lock he hadn't known existed inside himself. The desire to yank her into his arms and shake her warred violently with the desire to fall to his knees and beg… though for what, he didn't even know.
The doors opened on her floor. She walked out without a backward glance.
Mu Bai rode the elevator up to the penthouse alone, the ghost of sunflowers taunting him. He wasn't just losing a battle; he was being schooled in a war he never knew he was fighting. And the most terrifying part was, he was starting to realize he deserved to lose.
(End of Chapter 4)