After Chen Xi left, Zhao Chen sat alone in the study, his mood somewhat complicated.
He recalled the first time he saw Su Wantang after his rebirth, and that deep-seated sorrow and forced strength in her eyes;
he recalled how she unhesitatingly supported him, handing over her only shares;
he recalled how, every time he returned to the villa late at night, that lamp was always burning and the soup was kept warm.
She was long no longer the fuzzy image of a "stepmother" from his memory who stood in opposition to him.
She was his ally, the person to whom he could entrust his back, and one of the few sources of warmth in this cold world without any scheming.
And now, she would formally step into his working domain, becoming a more solid bridge between his life and career.
About forty minutes later, Chen Xi's internal call came through: "Zhao Zong, Wantang has arrived."
"Please have her come in."
The door was pushed open, and Su Wantang walked in.
Zhao Chen raised his eyes to look, slightly startled.
She had clearly dressed up carefully—not the kind of attire for a grand banquet, but a proper, dignified yet gentle business casual look.
A light beige knit sweater matched with dark gray trousers, layered with a nicely textured camel-colored coat, her long hair elegantly coiled at the back of her head, and wearing light makeup on her face, her complexion was very good.
But what was most eye-catching were her eyes—bright and sparkling, gleaming with a long-lost luster, which was the joy of finding direction and value.
"Zhao Zong." She stood at the doorway, her voice somewhat nervous, using a very formal address.
Zhao Chen stood up and said warmly, "You're here? Have a seat."
Su Wantang sat down on