Madam, You Wouldn't Want Your Husband to Be Disappointed, Would You? (Ten Thousand Characters, Please Vote Monthly)

Hearing Tan Huimin's words, Qiu Tu, who had just put away his phone, could not help but look up at her.

Tan Huimin truly was not cut out to be a spy. Not only had Qiu Tu's little bluff earlier frightened her out of her wits, but now she had actually admitted to his guess.

After all, Liu Fuping, the last person whose identity Qiu Tu had bluffed out, had also shown some unusual reactions. But no matter how Qiu Tu beat around the bush or probed her, she had never admitted her identity.

Qin Shuman was even more so. Back then, even with Qiu Tu pointing a pistol at her, she had kept up her act without revealing the slightest flaw.

Compared to them, Tan Huimin was lacking by far more than just a little.

After all, one's identity was both a spy's fatal weakness and their protective talisman.

As long as you did not admit you were a spy, there was always still a chance to explain yourself or help your accomplices cover their lies.

And as long as you kept refusing to admit your identity, you still had value to the counterintelligence agency—and thus a slightly better chance of survival.

And aside from that professional bearing, Tan Huimin had revealed even more flaws during the time they had just spent together.

With that in mind, Qiu Tu turned around and looked Tan Huimin up and down before saying, "The reason I guessed you weren't my secretary was simple."

"You weren't familiar with me. And you showed neither enthusiasm nor delight over my promotion."

Qiu Tu paced around Tan Huimin for a few steps and commented, "A secretary is a very special profession."

"Their own rank is not high, and their power and influence are granted by the