After paying, Vivian Wen and Simon Min struggled out of the market with armfuls of bags and boxes.
By the time they reached the curb, they were both laughing breathlessly, and hailed a taxi.
Back home, Vivian went straight to work.
Simon tried to help—but truth be told, he’d never done this kind of thing before.
He stood aside awkwardly, watching her move with brisk efficiency.
“Mr. Min, pass me that painting, please.”
Vivian was on a stool, reaching up to hang the new wall art in the living room.
Simon stepped forward immediately and handed it to her.
She took it, tiptoeing to reach the hook—
but her balance faltered, and in a blink she slipped—
—straight into Simon’s arms.
Her head landed against his shoulder.
His steady hands braced her waist and shoulders, his low magnetic voice brushing her ear.
“Come down. I’ll do it.”
Vivian’s cheeks flushed deep red.
Her heart still fluttered from the scare, so she obediently climbed down and held the stool for him.
Simon’s tall frame made the task effortless; he fixed the painting with a few precise motions.
“A home really can’t do without a man,” Vivian sighed in admiration.
Simon gave a quiet laugh, dusting off his hands.
“And a home can’t do without a woman either—
or who else could make it look this good for so little money?”
Vivian ducked her head, pulse racing.
For a moment, it almost felt like they were newlyweds decorating their first apartment.

Under Vivian’s cheerful command, they spent the afternoon arranging everything—
the throw pillows, the curtains, the new lamps.
By five o’clock, they were both drenched in sweat, but the place was transformed.
“Done!” Vivian said, grinning.
“Now it finally feels like a home.”
Simon looked around. The warmth of it struck him—
the faint floral scent, the cozy mess of boxes, the laughter still lingering in the air.
He hadn’t felt this in years.
The image of his parents flashed before him—
his mother fussing with vases and cushions,
his father pretending to grumble but letting her do as she pleased.
He hadn’t realized how much he missed that warmth.
“Mr. Min?” Vivian’s voice pulled him back.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing.” He smiled faintly. “Just wondering if we missed anything.”
Vivian scanned the room, then pointed toward the bare balcony.
“If we could add some flowers out there, it’d be perfect.”
Simon’s gaze lingered on her delicate profile.
“What kind of flowers do you like?” he asked softly.
“I’ll pick some up when I have time.”
“Anything bright and full of life,” she said, smiling.
“But we’ve done enough for today. Let’s rest.”
He nodded. Later that evening, after she went to shower, he headed out for a meeting.
Sitting in the car, he called his butler.
“Uncle Feng, pick a few pots of flowers from the manor’s greenhouse and send them to Jiangshui Court tomorrow.
The brightest and fullest ones you can find.”
“Yes, young master.”
When the call ended, Uncle Feng blinked in surprise.
The young master has never cared about flowers before.
Could it be… he finally has a woman?

Monday morning, Vivian officially graduated and joined Huasheng Entertainment’s management department.
Her supervisor, Sister Liang, dropped a thick stack of profiles on her desk.
“These are all our new artists. Get familiar with them.”
Then she pulled one file from the pile and set it on top.
“And pay special attention to this one. She’s our top priority.”
Vivian glanced at the photo—
and froze.
Summer Wen.
“Sister Liang,” she said carefully,
“she doesn’t seem… that special. Why’s the company promoting her so hard?”
Liang gave her a look somewhere between amusement and pity.
“Use your brain, kid. You’ll figure it out.”
As she walked away, she added over her shoulder,
“I know you two have some bad blood, but work is work. Orders are orders.”
Vivian sighed, the weight settling over her again.
Of all the people in this world, why her?
That evening, she stepped out of the office, massaging her sore shoulders.
The city glittered beneath the night sky, and she just wanted to go home—
When her phone rang.
“Vivian!”
It was her best friend, Sophie Su, half yelling, half laughing.
“Don’t tell me you forgot—it’s my birthday today!”