Lin Zhou located Su Xiaotang in no time.

“Miss Su, President Gu would like you to come over.”

Su Xiaotang was handing a pen to a guest; the request made her hand tremble. She glanced toward Gu Yanchen—he was surrounded by people and hadn’t even looked her way.

“President Gu… needs me for something?” she whispered, uneasy.

“No idea. You’ll know when you get there.” Lin Zhou’s tone was neutral.

She excused herself to Manager Li and followed Lin Zhou through the crowd, feeling every curious stare.

When they reached Gu Yanchen she kept her eyes down. “President Gu.”

He finished his conversation, then looked at her. “Can you drink?”

“Ah?” She blinked. “N-not really…”

“Then ward off a few glasses for me.” He spoke as casually as if asking her to pass a file.

Su Xiaotang: “…”

A newly hired assistant shielding the big boss from alcohol—was that even proper?

Someone nearby chuckled. “President Gu is lucky to have such a clever girl.”

“Exactly—Miss Su is young and pretty, perfect for the job.”

Before Su Xiaotang could refuse, Zhao Man glided over, wineglass in hand, smile brittle. “President Gu, how can you let an assistant drink? Allow me.”

She tried to lean in; Gu Yanchen sidestepped, voice cool. “No need.”

Zhao Man froze, shooting daggers at Su Xiaotang.

Trapped, Su Xiaotang whispered, “President Gu, I really can’t—what if I mess up?”

“Nothing to mess up.” He handed her his own glass. “Tell them my stomach’s acting up—doctor’s orders.”

The tone left no room for argument. She accepted the glass and followed him like a shadow, repeating his line to every toast. After a few rounds, the guests gave up; Zhao Man hovered, but Gu Yanchen blocked every attempt to cut in.

Eventually Su Xiaotang slipped to the restroom. As she stepped back into the corridor, Zhao Man blocked her.

“What exactly are you playing at, Su Xiaotang?” Zhao Man’s face was tight. “Day one and you’re already climbing? Do you think you’re worthy?”

“I’m only following President Gu’s instructions,” Su Xiaotang replied evenly.

“Following orders?” Zhao Man laughed coldly. “You spilled coffee on him yesterday, played the pitiful card today—subtle, aren’t you?”

“I did not—”

Zhao Man raised a hand to shove her. Su Xiaotang recoiled; her heel twisted and she nearly fell.

A frosty voice cut in: “What do you think you’re doing?”

Both women turned. Gu Yanchen stood a few paces away, face storm-dark.

Zhao Man’s bravado vanished. “President Gu, we were just joking—”

“Were we?” His gaze swept over Su Xiaotang’s reddened eyes, then pinned Zhao Man. “Clear your desk tomorrow. HR will handle the paperwork.”

Zhao Man paled. “President Gu, you can’t fire me over a trifle—”

“Shengshi does not keep employees of questionable character.” Without another word to Zhao Man, he stepped to Su Xiaotang. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, stunned. He’d dismissed a department director—for her?

“Thank you, President Gu,” she murmured.

He bent, retrieved the hairpin she’d dropped, and placed it in her palm. His fingers brushed her skin—cool, fleeting. Heat flooded her cheeks.

“Come.” He turned back toward the banquet.

Neither spoke on the return walk.

Later, Gu Yanchen had Lin Zhou drive her home. She protested; he merely said, “Get in.”

In the car Lin Zhou remarked, “President Gu rarely intervenes in internal squabbles.”

Su Xiaotang finally understood—his stomach really was delicate; he simply disliked announcing it.

The next morning she slept in, then strolled to work. The moment she stepped into Admin, the atmosphere shifted—curious, envious stares followed her.

Zhang Meng pulled her aside, eyes sparkling. “You’re famous! The whole company knows President Gu fired Zhao Man for you and had you chauffeured home. Spill—how long have you known him?”

“It’s a misunderstanding!” Su Xiaotang insisted, face crimson.

“Misunderstanding? Who believes that?” Zhang Meng teased.

At that moment Supervisor Wang appeared with a file. “Xiaotang, this needs President Gu’s signature—deliver it to the 38th floor.”

The 38th floor again.

She knocked.

“Enter.”

Gu Yanchen was on the phone, brows knit. He motioned her to wait. When he hung up he rubbed his temples, then accepted the file, signing without comment.

As she turned to leave, he said quietly, “Thank you for last night.”

“You’re welcome, sir.”

“Ignore gossip,” he added. “Focus on your work.”

Her heart lurched. She met his eyes—steady, sincere.

“Understood, President Gu.”

She stepped out, leaned against the corridor wall, and pressed a hand to her racing heart.

Maybe—just maybe—President Gu wasn’t as indifferent as the rumors claimed.