A Day in Gu Yue's Life

At six thirty in the morning, dawn was still dim, and the city remained wrapped in the lingering warmth of sleep. Gu Yue had already gotten up without a sound.

She moved with extreme care, as if afraid of disturbing Tang Wulin, who was still deep in dreams—though she knew that with his boundless energy (despite his kidney deficiency, his sleep quality was clearly quite good), such minor noises were nowhere near enough to wake him.

She washed up with practiced ease and put on slightly heavier-than-usual light office makeup, concealing the faint trace of exhaustion beneath her eyes. Though Tang Wulin had not caught her in the study last night, the memory still made the tips of her ears warm slightly. That secret release, mixed with self-mockery and anticipation, had felt different from before. It was more like she was storing up strength for an approaching moment—or rather, enduring, enduring the official return of that "original genuine article."

Breakfast was simple: whole-wheat bread, a fried egg, and a cup of hot milk. It was nutritionally balanced and suited the "healthy office worker" image she had set for herself. She neatly arranged one portion at Tang Wulin's usual seat, covered it with plastic wrap, and placed a sticky note beside it in her customary cool handwriting: "Breakfast is on the table. Remember to eat. Your medicine is in the drawer on the left." It was signed with a simple "Yue."

After finishing everything, she glanced at the wall clock. The timing was just right. She picked up the briefcase she had prepared the night before, packed with materials for today's meeting and several documents awaiting processing, then turned and left.

The chilly morning air drove away some of her fatigue. Gu Yue drove her car into the increasingly busy traffic. Her mood was somewhat subtle—calm as usual, yet with a tiny flame dancing deep in her heart. Three days remained on the countdown, and the feeling gave her a strange thrill, as if she were about to head into battle. Of course, the battlefield was the bed, and her opponent was that confidence-filled "kidney-deficient young master."

At 8:55, Gu Yue swiped her attendance card at the company entrance right on time. The beep was crisp and clean. She took the elevator directly to the eleventh floor, swiped into her department, and found that not all her colleagues had arrived yet. She walked straight into her private office, set down her bag, took off her somewhat restrictive coat, and changed into more comfortable indoor heels that allowed for easier movement. She turned on her computer, tidied her desk, and pulled out the key documents needed for the morning meeting, placing them in a folder.

At 9:30, the department's regular meeting began on schedule. The atmosphere in the conference room was somewhat stifling. The projector cast its beam across the screen as the department manager passionately explained this quarter's marketing plan. Gu Yue sat along one side of the long table, a notebook spread before her and a pen in hand, her attentive posture beyond reproach. Yet her thoughts had drifted elsewhere.

Those copywriting proposals had outdated frameworks and mediocre angles, lacking any highlight in her eyes. In the past, she might have offered sharp suggestions for revision, but today, she found them utterly dull. Images from home kept flashing through her mind: Tang Wulin glaring fiercely at the calendar, the way he secretly glanced toward the wardrobe, and... the dark circles beneath his eyes that he could not hide despite forcing himself to stay alert.

"Director Gu, how do you think this segment should be optimized?" The manager's voice pulled her back to reality.

Gu Yue swiftly glanced at the projection screen. It was an interactive segment for promoting a new product, and the concept truly was rigid. She frowned slightly, then relaxed and said in her usual calm, professional tone, "The process is too complicated, and users have limited patience. I suggest cutting the two redundant middle steps and focusing directly on the core selling point. Use the pain points to drive conversions. I'll have my assistant organize a detailed proposal for you this afternoon."

Her words were concise and forceful, striking straight at the heart of the issue. The manager immediately nodded in approval. The meeting continued, and Gu Yue turned her attention back to the screen, occasionally noting down a few keywords. More often, though, she used the appearance of "listening attentively" to conceal the thoughts that had long since run wild. She began wondering whether she should deliberately bring up the "Liberation Day" countdown again tonight. Or should she continue maintaining this façade of mutual respect and catch him off guard? Hmm, perhaps the latter would be more interesting.

At eleven thirty, the meeting finally ended amid a chorus of "Got it" and "Understood." The colleagues gradually dispersed. Some hurried eagerly toward the cafeteria, while others collapsed into their seats and scrolled through their phones. Gu Yue returned to her office and closed the door, instantly shutting out the noise outside. She let out a breath and rubbed her brow. Compared with the home environment full of vivid—and infuriating—life, this routine existence seemed so pale.

She turned on her computer and began working through the backlog of emails. Most were routine reports and approval requests, which she handled quickly. The sound of mouse clicks was especially distinct in the quiet office. During that time, she took two calls. One was a discussion with a business partner, her tone neither deferential nor overbearing, her points clear and organized. The other came from the property management company at home, asking whether she wished to renew the management fee for the next quarter. She briefly confirmed the renewal.

During lunch break, she did not go to the cafeteria and instead ordered a light meal for delivery. While eating, she took out her phone and opened her chat with Tang Wulin. The conversation still rested on the reminder she had sent him several days ago to remember his medicine. Her fingertip hovered over the screen. After hesitating for a moment, she ultimately sent nothing. This cold-war-like calm was a façade she had carefully maintained, as well as a test. She wanted to know how much longer Tang Wulin could endure. Just how far had his so-called "preparations" gone?

The afternoon work proceeded as usual. She reviewed reports, revised the details of proposals, and held brief one-on-one discussions with her subordinates.

Everything was in perfect order. Only she herself knew that her heart had already gotten off work early, flown back to that home filled with familiar scents, and flown toward the man counting down the days, eager to make his move.

At around four thirty, she finished handling the last urgent document, leaned back in her broad leather office chair, and looked out the window. The setting sun gilded the city in gold. She began considering what vegetables to buy for dinner. Should she go straight home, or deliberately return later to give someone time for "free activities"? Perhaps she could pick up a soy-braised duck he liked on the way?

Just as her thoughts were wandering, the internal phone rang. Her assistant reminded her that an important client would be visiting tomorrow morning and the reception arrangements needed to be confirmed. Gu Yue immediately gathered her thoughts, switched back into work mode, and gave detailed instructions on the matters requiring attention.

At five thirty, it was time to get off work. The voices in the office gradually grew sparse. Gu Yue unhurriedly organized her desk, locked away the important documents, put on her coat, and picked up her briefcase. She gave one last glance at the date and time in the lower-right corner of her computer screen. There were still two days and seven hours until "Liberation Day."

She walked out of her office, the sound of her heels striking the floor crisp and decisive. As the elevator descended, the mirrored stainless steel reflected her immaculate makeup and slightly aloof profile.

Her car left the garage and merged into the evening rush-hour traffic. Gu Yue turned on the car stereo, and soothing music flowed out. She softly hummed along, her gaze passing over the bustling streetscape outside as she silently thought:

"Soon, Tang Wulin. I hope that when the time comes, you'll really be able to live up to your word."

At home, the "kidney-deficient young master" on whom such high hopes had been placed was staring at the calendar, making his own final preparations for the last sprint.

Oath of Lin Yue: Eternal Sequel will be on hiatus starting today. Thank you to all readers for your support, and thank you to every reader who urged updates and left comments. Thank you, everyone. Until we meet again!

Yijiuxingyang

April 30, 2026