36. The Dinner Gathering

After several busy days, Pei Huan finally finished her work. She delivered the completed documents to Lu Feng’s office. As she was about to leave, Lu Feng called out to her, “Pei Huan.”

She paused, turned around, her smile perfectly measured. “Is there anything else, Mr. Lu?”

Gone was the familiarity of their first meeting; her demeanor toward Lu Feng was now entirely that of a subordinate respectfully addressing her superior. Lu Feng hesitated briefly, then spoke, “During the years you disappeared, my cousin had a falling out with the family.”

At the mention of Lu Yinghuai, Pei Huan’s composed smile faded slightly. She didn’t know what to say, so she stood quietly, eyes lowered, listening as Lu Feng continued.

“My cousin hasn’t had an easy time these past years,” Lu Feng said. “He broke off contact with the Lu family because of you, even refused to acknowledge my uncle and aunt. He never stopped searching for you, and after the conflict, his bank cards were frozen. He struggled during his years abroad.”

Pei Huan pressed her lips together; Lu Feng’s words, though softly spoken, reached her ears with clarity.

“He used to care nothing for power, but after you left, he started competing with the family for the top position. He faced every challenge, every attack, but thanks to his skill, he’s now firmly seated as CEO of Minghan Group. Yet everything he endured was because of your sudden disappearance,” Lu Feng said.

Lu Feng’s words made assumptions that Pei Huan would once have refuted—no one can’t survive without another, and she knew Lu Yinghuai had the ability to secure his place, it was only a matter of time. But now, her sense of guilt toward Lu Yinghuai had reached its peak. She couldn’t argue, only stood there, unsure what to say.

Lu Feng seemed to realize he’d been too presumptuous. He regretted his words for a moment, then said, “I… I didn’t mean to say it like that. I just feel for my cousin. If my last comment offended you, I apologize.”

“No need to apologize,” Pei Huan replied softly. “I shouldn’t have left without saying goodbye.”

The way Pei Huan looked now inspired pity. If Lu Yinghuai knew Lu Feng had spoken to her like this, he’d likely have words with him. Lu Feng hurriedly tried to comfort her, even dropping his usual executive airs and addressing her as “senior,” which made Pei Huan, who had been quietly hurting, unexpectedly smile.

“It’s fine. I know you’re speaking up for Lu Yinghuai—I understand,” Pei Huan said, her smile gentle.

In the end, they said little more. Pei Huan excused herself, citing work, and left the office.

Soon enough, the evening of the dinner arrived. Along with Lu Feng, several others attended. As they neared the private room, Pei Huan felt discomfort in her stomach and quickly stopped Lu Feng. “My stomach’s upset, may I use the restroom first?”

Lu Feng had no objections. “Go ahead, just don’t be late.”

Pei Huan agreed, headed to the restroom, and after settling her needs and washing her hands, she felt relieved. Returning to the private room, she pushed open the door to find everyone already present. Her gaze swept to the head of the table, and, as expected, Lu Yinghuai was seated there.

She entered, exchanging pleasantries while searching for a seat, only to find all spots taken except the one at Lu Yinghuai’s left, with Lu Feng seated beside it. Instantly, Pei Huan broke out in a cold sweat.

Was she really meant to sit between two presidents? Did she merit such attention?

Taking the seat, Pei Huan avoided looking right, and dared not speak to Lu Feng, feeling utterly ill at ease.

She had little role in this dinner; while others conversed, she focused on her meal. When she wanted a dish but hesitated to spin the lazy Susan, her habit led her to reach for Lu Yinghuai’s hand, but she stopped herself and instead gently tapped Lu Feng’s hand, whispering, “I’d like some abalone.”

Lu Feng, hearing her, spun the dish to her and gently held the tray until she had taken her portion.

Lu Yinghuai watched their interaction: the intimate exchange, the subtle movements—all registered in his eyes. He stared at Pei Huan coldly, his expression unfriendly.

Later, during the toast, someone mentioned Pei Huan. Hearing her name, she reacted slowly, then stood with practiced ease, smiling. “Mr. Li, my alcohol tolerance isn’t great. May I toast with tea instead?”

Mr. Li feigned disapproval. “Little Pei, that’s hardly proper. Tea doesn’t bring the same cheer.”

The implication was that Pei Huan wasn’t being cooperative. She smiled, switched her tea for white liquor to match Mr. Li, and downed it in one gulp. The burning sensation hit hard; despite attending many such dinners, she still wasn’t used to drinking spirits.

She sat down, head lowered, her face contorted briefly before returning to normal. Lu Yinghuai saw it all but said nothing.

With Mr. Li’s lead, the toasts came again and again, mixing red and white wine. Pei Huan’s discomfort grew; Lu Feng frowned, about to speak, but Pei Huan discreetly patted his hand, signaling him to hold back.

After a round of alcohol, Pei Huan’s stomach churned. She forced herself to eat a few bites, then excused herself to the restroom.

Once there, she could no longer hold back, clutching the toilet as she vomited. The spirits were strong, and those old men clearly intended to force her to drink. Her retching was gut-wrenching, even bile came up, and only then did she feel slightly better. In front of the mirror, she touched up her makeup; her eyes were still red from vomiting, her face haggard. After reapplying her lipstick, she checked her appearance and left the restroom.

Turning a corner, she bumped into Lu Yinghuai, who was waiting there. Their eyes met, and Pei Huan forced a smile. “Mr. Lu.”

Her tone was polite, distant, nothing like the warmth of the past. Lu Yinghuai’s voice was cold. “If you can’t handle alcohol, why drink?”

“I’m just an employee; I don’t have the right to decide whether I drink or not,” Pei Huan replied, her smile perfectly measured. “If I mess up the dinner, the project might slip away.”

Lu Yinghuai sneered, “If every project could be won by drinking, then the world would be full of people like you who think themselves clever.”

Pei Huan smiled, offering no rebuttal.

After all these years, standing together again, they had nothing left to talk about. Pei Huan said lightly, “If there’s nothing else, I’ll head back.”

“No need to go back,” Lu Yinghuai replied coldly.

Pei Huan looked at him in confusion. He said, “It’s over.”

“Over?” Pei Huan’s eyes widened.

Lu Yinghuai said nothing, his deep eyes fixed on her. At that moment, Pei Huan received a message from Lu Feng, saying the project was nearly secured and asking where she was so he could drive her home.

Pei Huan was delighted, about to reply, but Lu Yinghuai interrupted her. “You’ve been drinking—how will you get home?”

Pei Huan, still affected by the alcohol, blurted out, “Lu Feng will take me.”

Lu Feng again. On the dinner, she’d whispered to Lu Feng, and now, hearing his name, Lu Yinghuai was nearly mad with jealousy. He said, his tone brooking no argument, “I’ll take you.”

Pei Huan exclaimed, “No need, that’s too much trouble for you.”

“You’d rather have Lu Feng drive you than me?” Lu Yinghuai’s voice trembled.

Pei Huan, slow to react, didn’t notice the subtle change in Lu Yinghuai’s mood. She was still thinking of ways to refuse when she met his suppressed, almost desperate gaze. In that instant, her heart softened, and, against her better judgment, she nodded in agreement.

Most of the dinner guests had already left. Only Lu Feng remained at the hotel entrance, surprised to see Lu Yinghuai and Pei Huan emerge together. Lu Yinghuai’s cold gaze swept over him, making Lu Feng shiver.

What had he done to offend this formidable figure again?

Lu Yinghuai’s car was parked nearby. Pei Huan followed him, reached the car, and absent-mindedly opened the driver’s door and sat in the seat, completely forgetting she’d been drinking. She started the engine, saw Lu Yinghuai still outside, and lowered the window, puzzled. “What are you waiting for? Get in.”

Only then did Lu Yinghuai realize Pei Huan was drunk. His voice was cool. “You’ve had alcohol.”

“I haven’t!” Pei Huan denied immediately.

“Drunk driving is a fine, and twelve points off your license,” Lu Yinghuai said.

Pei Huan was silent for a long moment, then quietly vacated the driver’s seat for Lu Yinghuai, taking the passenger seat without a word.

The atmosphere in the car was quiet, the music a soothing piano piece. Pei Huan, drowsy from the drink, quickly drifted into sleep.

When she woke again, they were already downstairs at her apartment complex. She squinted at the scenery outside, then at her surroundings, and asked, “Why didn’t you tell me we’d arrived?”

“You were sleeping deeply,” Lu Yinghuai replied.

A trace of awkward embarrassment crossed Pei Huan’s face. She unfastened her seatbelt, smiled lightly. “Thank you for today.”

“No need,” Lu Yinghuai’s voice was indifferent.

Pei Huan got out. Though she appeared sober, her steps were unsteady, clearly not fully recovered from the drinking. Only when her figure vanished did Lu Yinghuai drive away.

Back at his own place, Lu Yinghuai tossed the car keys onto the entry cabinet. The living room remained dark, curtains drawn tight, blocking any outside light. He sat there, enveloped in darkness.

His reunion with Pei Huan had been unexpected—he thought she would stay gone forever. So when she stood before him, flesh and blood, he almost thought it was an illusion. For years, he had asked people to search for her, but found nothing. Anyone alive leaves traces, unless someone deliberately blocks all information.

Lu Yinghuai knew whose doing that was. He didn’t confront them, stubbornly kept searching, and just as he was near despair, Pei Huan appeared—on an ordinary evening, they met again.

It wasn’t dramatic; Lu Yinghuai simply hadn’t been ready, and Pei Huan had arrived.

Over the years, Pei Huan had matured greatly, her temperament much steadier, her appearance more refined and beautiful. She was very different from the Pei Huan of before, though traces remained. But her attitude toward him was distant, even deliberately so—Lu Yinghuai felt it all, and had been quietly disappointed for a long time.

He lowered his gaze, his fingers unconsciously tightening.

Was he the only one who still cared about their past?