She’s the One I Want You to Meet

“Bro Ci, what are you thinking about? Still thinking about your girlfriend, huh?”

Gu Yanshi was also one of Wen Zhaoci’s good friends—his family owned mines, the quintessential golden spoon heir.

Wen Zhaoci didn’t look up, still staring at his phone screen, and gave a faint “Mm,” his tone betraying nothing.

“What the hell? Wait, no way—bro, you’re actually serious about her?” Gu Yanshi’s words came tumbling out like firecrackers. “Didn’t we just test her? That girl doesn’t give a damn about you.”

Jiang Shangyu chimed in from the side: “Exactly, Bro Ci. Why are you so invested? We went out of our way to call her saying you were drunk, and she wouldn’t even come—she even called me a liar.”

Wen Zhaoci finally looked up, the corners of his eyes tinged red from the alcohol. He tapped his finger lightly against the whiskey glass and said flatly: “Who said I was just messing around?”

The room fell silent for a moment. Gu Yanshi nearly spat out the drink he’d just taken, his eyes widening in disbelief: “No way, you’re serious? All those socialites who chased you before—every one of them was more obedient and sensible than her. How’d you end up falling for this little brat?”

Wen Zhaoci didn’t answer. His finger traced the photo of him holding hands with Sang Jiuning that he’d saved from the forum. His Adam’s apple bobbed slightly as he tapped the screen and said softly: “She’s different.”

“Even if she’s just after your money, she’d still come if she heard you were drunk.”

Chi Nanli, who had been lying face-down on the cold rosewood table, his cheek buried in his arms, perked up in a tipsy daze: “What kind of heavenly beauty could bring down our cold-hearted Young Master Wen? You’ve got to bring her out to meet us.”

Jiang Shangyu flicked Chi Nanli on the forehead: “Chi Nanli, are you drunk? We’re saying she’s no good, and you’re suggesting we meet her?”

Chi Nanli rubbed his forehead, dazed for a moment, then mumbled vaguely: “Come on, I’m just curious… This is the first time I’ve ever seen Ci so into a girl.”

Gu Yanshi kicked Chi Nanli’s leg, then leaned closer to Wen Zhaoci, lowering his voice with a gossipy grin: “Seriously, Bro Ci, where are you two at now? Kissed yet? Hugged yet?”

Wen Zhaoci’s fingers paused briefly, the tips of his ears warming almost imperceptibly. Instead of answering, he said: “I told you not to test her. You didn’t listen.”

Jiang Shangyu choked, rubbed his nose, and muttered: “We just… wanted to help you see if she’s sincere about you. Who knew she’d have such a sharp temper—she blocked me outright.”

Wen Zhaoci pinched the bridge of his nose, locked his phone, and placed it face-down on the table. He picked up his whiskey glass and took a sip, the cool bite of the alcohol suppressing the soft ache rising in his chest—that night when Sang Jiuning had run off, the tips of her hair had brushed past his chin, so soft. He could still feel the memory of it.

At Jiang Shangyu’s words, he lifted his eyes. A thin haze of moisture veiled his dark irises, yet they still burned bright. His thin lips parted, voice low and rough as if soaked in liquor: “It’s not that she won’t come. She’s naturally wary. Even of me.”

His voice softened: “Give it some time. I’ll bring her out to meet you all.”

“Well, I thought you were going to keep her hidden away like a treasure,” Chi Nanli shrugged lazily, picking up his glass and draping his long legs over the edge of the sofa. His fingers loosely held a half-finished whiskey, the stray hairs on his forehead slightly damp from the alcohol, lending his already handsome face a distinctly disheveled, tipsy charm.

He hadn’t reached out to her over the past few days because he wanted to give her space—to let her process everything that had happened. He hadn’t expected her to direct all that wariness toward him instead.

Zhao Muze, sitting on the other side, couldn’t help but laugh. He clinked his glass against Wen Zhaoci’s arm: “You only show up one out of every ten times we ask you out. Enough with the fluff—let’s talk business.”

Wen Zhaoci ignored him, rubbing his fingertip along the condensation on the glass. After a few seconds of silence, he set the glass down on the coffee table, pushed himself up slowly using the armrest.

The alcohol was definitely hitting him—he swayed slightly as he stood. Jiang Shangyu quickly reached out to steady him, but Wen Zhaoci waved him off: “I’ve got it.”

“Come on, you can barely walk. Let me help you to the bathroom—what’s the big deal?” Jiang Shangyu followed, worried.

“No need.” Wen Zhaoci straightened his rumpled shirt collar, slipped his phone into his pocket with his long, slender fingers, and spoke through the thick haze of alcohol: “I’m not drunk.”

When Wen Zhaoci emerged from the restroom, Zhao Muze saw that he’d sobered up a bit and said: “About that smart robot project I mentioned—have you given it any more thought? My team’s already handed me the market research report, and the data models are done. This project is guaranteed to make money—targeting elderly empty-nesters. It’s called a companion smart robot. We’re just missing you as the core tech lead.”

The conversation shifted to business, and Wen Zhaoci’s eyes grew sharp and focused: “I’ve looked at the data models. The overall framework is solid, but the core algorithm needs more tweaking. I’ll refine it over the weekend and send it to you.”

He held an unlit cigarette between his fingers, most of the alcohol-induced haze gone, his demeanor reverting to that of the meticulous investor.

Zhao Muze’s eyes lit up: “I knew you’d come through. Once this project takes off, we split it fifty-fifty.”

“No need,” Wen Zhaoci said, glancing down at the cigarette and turning it absently. “I’ll take a tech equity stake. We’ll split it however you suggested before—I have no objections.”

After a pause, he added: “Just make sure the prototype goes through proper testing before anything else.”

Wen Zhaoci leaned back into the sofa. Jiang Shangyu had switched the music to something more laid-back and resort-style. He rattled the dice cup and said: “Hey, how about we take our girlfriends up to that new mountaintop resort for a weekend getaway?”

Everyone perked up at that. Chi Nanli sat up straight, most of his drunkenness fading: “I heard that place is great—the hot spring pools face the mountain views, and the scenery is amazing.”

Gu Yanshi chimed in: “It’s the weekend anyway—perfect timing to hang out together. How about next Saturday and Sunday?”

Then he winked at Wen Zhaoci: “Bro Ci, you’ve got to bring your girl this time, right? Let us finally meet her in person and satisfy our curiosity.”

Wen Zhaoci’s fingers paused, the dice rolling half a turn in his palm. His Adam’s apple shifted slightly—he’d already been thinking about it. He’d given Sang Jiuning space these past few days, and they hadn’t been texting. This would be the perfect chance to close the distance.

He glanced around at his eager friends, a faint smile curving at the corner of his mouth: “I’ll ask her later. If she’s free, she’ll come.”