Fang Zhijin · chat.title

The project's groundbreaking ceremony was set for September 16th, marked on the almanac as an "auspicious day to break ground." You went through three different outfits before heading out that day. Fang Zhijin leaned against the bedroom doorframe watching you rifle through the closet, holding a half-finished Americano. His wet hair was still dripping, leaving a small, damp patch on the collar of his T-shirt. "Is all that really necessary?" he asked. "It's not like we're getting married." "What do you know?" You peeled off the third jacket and tossed it onto the bed. "You'll be standing on the stage with hundreds of people watching from below, and I'll be sitting in the front row. When photos get posted later—" "So what if they do?" Taking a sip of his coffee, he ambled over, reached into the wardrobe, pulled out a shirt, and handed it to you. "Wear this." It was an ordinary dark-blue button-down you'd bought last year and barely worn. You took it, looked at it, and then looked back at him. "Are you sure?" "You look good in this," he said, turning around to walk out. Pausing at the door, he added, "Head over to the venue ahead of me; someone needs to keep an eye on the schedule early on. Take your time, don't rush. The ceremony starts at 10:18, so getting there by ten is fine." He reached the doorway only to double back, bringing his cup of Americano right to your lips. "Take a sip to wake yourself up. You don't look like you're having the best day." You took a tiny sip, wincing at the bitterness. He let out a soft chuckle and walked away with his cup. By the time you reached the venue, most of the guests had already arrived. The groundbreaking ceremony was set up on the east side of the project site. A simple rostrum had been erected, covered with a red carpet, and the backdrop was printed with project renderings alongside a bold banner. Below the stage stood dozens of white folding chairs, the first row labeled for VIP guests. You found your seat and sat down. Fang Zhijin was up on the stage with several partner executives, making final confirmations on the schedule. Today, he wore a charcoal-gray suit, his long hair tied back in his usual low ponytail with that same black ribbon—he was certainly consistent, having used that single ribbon for two straight years. You scanned the area after sitting down and noticed Lin Mu on stage as well. She was standing near the edge in an off-white business suit, her hair neatly pulled into a low ponytail, clutching the event schedule and looking down at it. She was positioned just behind Fang Zhijin at an angle—neither too close nor too far, visible without stealing the spotlight. Fang Zhijin had clearly arranged that spot for her; you recognized his style. Whenever he mentored newcomers, he always gave them a chance to show their faces without putting them under too much pressure. As you watched, that thing appeared before your eyes again. A translucent curtain of text, exactly like the one at the last gala. Floating comments drifted slowly from right to left: [Here it comes, here it comes! The iconic groundbreaking ceremony scene!] [Lin Mu looks gorgeous today. Who knew business attire could look so innocent and delicate?] [She and Fang Zhijin look so good together on stage, their height difference is perfect.] [Look at where they're standing. There's a bit of distance between them, but the chemistry is off the charts, you know?] [I know, right! That restrained, grown-up tension is so much better to ship than overt PDA.] You averted your gaze, looking down at your phone and pretending to read something. The ceremony began. First came the opening remarks from the leaders, followed by a speech from the project head, and then Fang Zhijin spoke as the partner representative. When he stepped up to the microphone, someone in the audience murmured, "Look at President Fang's hair today," prompting a quiet hush from the person beside them. His speech was concise, lasting only five or six minutes. He outlined the significance of the project, thanked all parties for their support, and concluded with, "I look forward to our smooth cooperation and seeing this through successfully," before stepping down. Poised, steady, with no wasted words. The comments drifted by: [Lin Mu didn't take her eyes off him once during his speech. So focused!] [That look in her eyes—it's pure 'my man is so handsome,' if you know, you know.] [Wonder how the vicious supporting character sitting down there feels, watching their fiancé exchange looks with another woman.] [He probably has no idea what's coming next, sitting there all smug.] You flipped your phone over, placing the screen flat against your lap. Next came the groundbreaking ritual. Several leaders lined up holding shovels decorated with red silk ribbons, Fang Zhijin among them. Lin Mu, as a project team member, was stationed off to the side handing over items—nothing substantial, just standing by to hold documents or guide the press for photos. She was indeed very diligent, carrying out each task with meticulous care. Whenever photographers wanted a close-up, she stepped back, returning only after they finished shooting. Fang Zhijin glanced at her and gave a slight nod. You knew that expression all too well—it was his subtle sign of approval, a barely perceptible twitch of his lips that meant, *not bad.* Yet the comments went wild: [Ahhh, Fang Zhijin nodded at her! He's acknowledging her!] [That's real chemistry right there. No words needed, just a single look.] [I am so fed! The Mu-Jin ship delivers pure sweetness again today!] [The vicious supporting character must be fuming watching this, lmao.] [Fuming won't help; he's going to dig his own grave later anyway.] As the ceremony was drawing to a close, a minor mishap occurred. Stepping backward, Lin Mu caught her heel in a seam of the carpet at the edge of the rostrum. Losing her balance, she stumbled back. She was holding a stack of brochures, and a few slipped from her grip, scattering across the floor. Fang Zhijin was closest to her. Turning sideways, he caught her arm with one hand while instinctively placing his other hand behind her back to keep her from falling off the stage. The movement was swift, over in a second or two, and he released his grip the moment she found her footing. "Are you alright?" he asked. "I'm fine, I'm so sorry, President Fang." Lin Mu's face flushed crimson as she crouched to gather the brochures. "I've got it." Fang Zhijin knelt down as well, helping her pick up the scattered booklets. Handing them back, he added, "The carpet seam wasn't laid down properly. It's not your fault. I'll have someone fix it later." Just those two sentences. The screen exploded with so many comments that your vision blurred: [Omg omg! He caught her! What a gentleman!] [The placement of his hand! Right there protecting her back! So tender!] [I could listen to him say 'Are you alright?' a hundred times!] [Lin Mu is blushing! Did you see that?! She's totally blushing!] [Fang Zhijin's reaction time proves he was watching her the whole time; how else could he move so fast?] [The canon couple is just built different. You can't fake an instinctive urge to protect someone.] [Compare that to the vicious supporting character sitting there without even flinching. Bet he's cursing her out in his head.] [Of course he is! Doesn't he pick a massive fight with Fang Zhijin over this when they get home, complaining about physical contact in public? So petty, lmao.] [That's pretty much when Fang Zhijin starts getting sick of him, wondering how he could've been blind enough to end up with someone like that.] [And then gradually noticing how great Lin Mu is—it's pure natural progression.] You sat in your chair, hands resting flat on your knees. Fang Zhijin had been closest to her; steadying her was the most natural thing in the world. Anyone standing in that spot would have reached out to catch someone stumbling. It was basic courtesy, completely detached from affection. But the floating comments didn't care. They declared the canon couple was sweet; they mocked how furious the vicious supporting character must be; they claimed Fang Zhijin would argue with you over Lin Mu later, and that during the scene where the engagement gets broken off, you'd cry so ugly it would be immensely satisfying to watch. You looked down at your hands. Your fingertips felt slightly cold. You clenched your fists, then slowly released them. After stepping off the stage, Fang Zhijin walked over to you, unbuttoning his suit jacket along the way. He stopped before you, blocking out the sun. "It'll wrap up shortly," he said, looking down at you. "Why don't you wait for me in the car? Tidying things up here will take another half hour." You looked up. He was watching you with his brows slightly knit—that exact look he gave whenever he sensed you were "off." He wouldn't ask right away; he would observe first, see what was wrong, and only then decide whether to press. The text kept scrolling past: [Fang Zhijin leaned down to talk to him, so gentle.] [See? He can be gentle with the vicious supporting character too. He's like that with everyone, so don't flatter yourself.] [A gentleness like that isn't the same as what he has with Lin Mu. With Lin Mu it's genuine attraction; with him, it's just obligation.] [Look over at Lin Mu, she's cleaning up all alone and Fang Zhijin didn't even help.] [Because he has to humor the vicious supporting character first! Once that's done, he'll head straight to Lin Mu.] You stood up from your chair. "I'll wait in the car." He stood straight as well. Being quite tall, he had to tilt his head slightly to meet your eyes. "Wait for me a bit. Once I wrap up, we'll head back together." "No need. Go take care of your work." You took two steps before he caught your wrist from behind. "Sweetheart." You froze. He let go, but didn't walk away. Standing right beside you, he dropped his voice to a soft murmur: "We'll talk when we get home tonight." You gave a brief nod and walked away. When you reached the parking lot, you glanced back. Fang Zhijin had already returned to the stage, talking with several executives. Lin Mu stood near him holding the stack of brochures, with nearly a meter of space between them. The comments kept flooding in: [He sent the vicious supporting character away! He's getting alone time with Lin Mu!] [Hahahaha, the vicious supporting character got brushed off, hilarious.] [Go Lin Mu! Secure that chance to report on the project progress today!] You pulled the car door open, sat inside, and shut it. The interior was dead quiet—so quiet you could hear your own breathing.