Yun Yi’s looks had always been striking.
Add to that his extraordinary presence, and it was impossible to mistake him for someone else.
“Ye Yun,” Director Meng said excitedly, keeping his voice low, “do you even know who we’re meeting today? This is the CEO of Chenguang Tech. Incredibly young, isn’t he? Just 25, and already Asia’s richest. Truly, the new generation surpasses the old…”
Before he could finish, Ye Yun’s confidence—built up earlier by Meng Ze—shattered completely.
Meng Ze was about to ask why when Yun Yi suddenly moved.
He strode forward and buttoned up the collar Ye Shaohua had just undone.
Meeting her slightly dazed gaze, he gritted his teeth.
“You— someone who’s taken—should really be more careful.”
The scent of alcohol on her made him want to scold her outright.
Everyone in the room recognized Yun Yi, that elusive, larger-than-life figure. At first, they’d been surprised by his youth, then thrilled that he’d personally attended the meeting.
Even though most here were older than him, they couldn’t help but admire the man.
So when they saw this—his intimate gesture toward Ye Shaohua—their eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets.
Wait…
What the hell is going on between Yun Yi and Ye Shaohua?
It wasn’t that they looked down on her, but her reputation was… well, complicated. Between her years of apparent decline and even her past brilliance, no one would’ve ever connected her to someone like Yun Yi, a man who existed in the clouds.
Director Meng, mid-sentence, dropped his chopsticks with a clatter.
This—this was the girl their family had rejected as a daughter-in-law?!
Since when was she so close to Yun Yi? And why did it look so… personal?
Meng Ze, forgetting Ye Yun entirely, stared blankly at Ye Shaohua.
Yun Yi, noticing her pressing her temples, tilted his head slightly.
“President Ye,” he said casually, “I’ve already decided on the proposal—the one your kid stayed up all night working on. It was unanimously approved in Chenguang’s executive meeting this morning.”
Ye Guofu nearly choked.
Wake up! That ‘kid’ is mine, not yours!
Ye Yun, however, seized on something else. She stood abruptly, her voice laced with indignation.
“President Yun, I thought you were different. But it seems you’re just the type to abuse power for personal gain—”
Yun Yi didn’t even let her finish. With a flick of his hand, his secretary passed him a file.
He tossed it in front of Ye Yun, his tone icy.
“You really think your proposal was worth my time? Take a good look at the gap between yours and hers.”
The veteran members of the planning department straightened proudly at his words.
Ye Guofu, meanwhile, was too preoccupied to question how Yun Yi had gotten his hands on a proposal he hadn’t even seen. He quickly skimmed the document on the table.
The others finally connected the dots.
No wonder Yun Yi, who rarely made public appearances, had come in person today…
It was all for her.
From that moment, the executives’ view of Ye Shaohua shifted entirely.
Originally, with the birth of Ye Yun’s brother, they’d pitied her—assuming she’d be sidelined in the company’s future.
But now?
With Yun Yi in the picture, even ten Ye Corporations wouldn’t compare.
That night, Ye Yun returned home in a foul mood.
“What’s wrong?” Grandma Ye cooed at her grandson while shooting her a glance.
Ye Yun forced a smile. “Nothing. Dad said he’s too busy to come.”
Grandma Ye scoffed. “Too busy fawning over that useless daughter of his, no doubt. He couldn’t even spare a moment to see his own son tonight. All because her exam results come out tomorrow? Her? What a joke.”
The words eased Ye Yun’s resentment—slightly.
But the thought of Yun Yi quickly soured her mood again.
…..
The next day was college entrance exam results day.
Ye Guofu had postponed all work, sitting by the phone with the score-checking hotline ready.
Countless parents across the country were doing the same.
At First High School, all the senior-year teachers had gathered, eager for their students’ results—not just for the kids’ sake, but for their own professional records.
None were more invested than Class 13’s homeroom teacher, Mr. Wang.
Seeing his anticipation, Liu Longsheng couldn’t resist sneering.
“Mr. Wang, why bother? Surely you don’t actually think your Class 13 could outperform mine? Expecting an apology?”
Mr. Wang adjusted his glasses, smiling faintly but saying nothing.
Liu Longsheng snorted and dropped it, while other teachers quickly jumped in with flattery.
“Your class will probably have a top-five provincial scorer,” one said. “Maybe even national top ten!”
Most provinces now used the national exam, meaning rankings weren’t just city- or province-wide—they spanned multiple regions.
“Jiang Cheng from your class has a real shot,” another added.
No one paid Mr. Wang any attention.
After all, everyone knew what Class 13 was.
He didn’t mind.
Just then, the administrative technician called out, “Results are in! Mr. Liu, congratulations—Jiang Cheng is second in the city, third in the province! We’ve got a provincial top-three scorer!”
First High was Qing City’s best school, but the province had far more elite institutions—like Qingcheng High, the top cram school in the region, which usually swept the top five spots.
As for national rankings? Most teachers didn’t dare hope.
With so many students taking the same exam across the country, even a provincial third-place scorer like Jiang Cheng would be lucky to crack the top forty nationally.
But “provincial third” still sounded better than “national fortieth.”
The principal beamed at Liu Longsheng. “This is a tremendous achievement, Mr. Liu. You’ve done outstanding work. Someone, notify the school website—we need banners—”
Liu Longsheng, triumphant, cast a smug glance at Mr. Wang.
Then the technician frowned.
“Wait… our city’s top scorer is also from our school? And—provincial first?! Hold on… there’s a national ranking too?!”
