"Welcome, Mr. Qiao Yu. Please come in," Simon Lau said politely, stepping aside. "I'm Simon Lau, Miss Zhang's assistant. We spoke on the phone."
Qiao Yu nodded once and shook the young man's hand. His grip was firm. His expression was unreadable. As soon as he stepped inside, his eyes swept across the living room with instinctive assessment.
Clean lines. Muted tones. Soft lighting. No neon glare. No glitter explosions.
Not bad.
Very different from the last time he had set foot here, when the penthouse had felt like the reckless collision between a burlesque club and a cheap theme park. That place had been loud. Excessive. Starving for attention.
This place was… quiet.
However, the renovation alone must have cost a fortune. Qiao Yu already felt a subtle ache forming behind his temples.
He had been hired years ago by Zhang Tengfei to manage the girl's finances from the moment she began earning money in showbiz.
Back then, her income had been laughable. Most of what sat in her account came from her monthly allowance.
As her popularity grew, so did the numbers, but so did the speed at which the money vanished.
And he had been the wall.
The wall that blocked Penelope.
The wall that blocked Elena herself.
The girl had hated him for it.
The mother had cursed him far more imaginatively.
It had been a thankless job. But one that paid extremely well.
Half a year ago, after Elena woke from her coma, Zhang Tengfei issued new instructions. A one-year grace period. Full access. No restrictions. If the account ran too low, he would quietly top it up.
Qiao Yu had thought the President had gone soft.
Yet six months had passed… and the account was still fat.
That alone unsettled him.
There had only been three large withdrawals.
Three million for renovation.
Five million for a new wardrobe.
Fifteen million for "computers and investments."
The renovation he could now understand.
The wardrobe… he sighed inwardly. Girls would be girls. At least she hadn't blown fifty million on handbags alone this time.
But the fifteen million?
That money was as good as thrown into the sea, as far as he was concerned.
Two days ago, Simon Lau had called him and said the Young Miss wanted to meet him personally.
That alone was strange.
In all their years of tense coexistence, she had never initiated anything.
And when a spoiled brat suddenly became proactive… it was never good news.
"Sir, this way," Simon Lau said, guiding him forward. "Miss Zhang is in the library office."
The moment Qiao Yu stepped inside the library, his breath hitched.
Shelves stretched from floor to ceiling. A spiral staircase climbed to a second level of books. Green plants lined the railings above, their leaves spilling gently downward. Tall palms occupied the corners like silent guardians.
It didn't feel like a decorative space.
It felt… used.
His eyes drifted over the spines. Chinese. English. Japanese. German. Russian.
He almost scoffed.
Decorations, then.
That was the only explanation that made sense.
"Boss, Mr. Qiao is here," Simon Lau announced.
Qiao Yu followed his gaze toward the corner.
A young woman rose slowly from a lounge seat beneath a potted palm tree. A book closed quietly in her hand. Not a fashion magazine. Not a script.
It was a Japanese novel.
"I'll take it from here," she said gently.
Simon Lau bowed and withdrew.
Qiao Yu blinked before his brain could stop him.
"Miss Zhang?"
She smiled faintly. "Please, sit."
They took their seats on opposite sides of the low table facing the massive mahogany desk. Simon Lau returned briefly with tea, set the cups down, and left them alone.
Qiao Yu stared.
The face was familiar.
But the presence was not.
There were no exaggerated gestures. No loud impatience. No sulking entitlement either. Her clothes were simple, elegant. Dark. Clean. Her posture relaxed but steady.
For the first time in years…
He didn't feel like he was sitting across from a storm.
"I almost didn't recognize you," he admitted.
She lifted her teacup, the faint wisp of steam brushing her face. "People say that a lot lately."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
The brat he knew would have already demanded money.
Or screamed.
Or thrown a tantrum just to make a point.
This girl only waited.
And for some reason…
*
Qiao Yu lifted the teacup to his lips out of habit.
The first sip froze halfway down his throat.
His eyes widened.
He took another, slower sip. Let the taste spread properly this time. The rich orchid fragrance. The lingering sweetness at the back of the tongue. The depth that only came from altitude and time.
It is not the watered-down kind used to impress ignorant guests. This was top grade.
He set the cup down very slowly.
The world really was ending. He thought...
Across the table, Elena Zhang watched him quietly. No impatience. No smugness. There is nothing but calmness on her face.
"Mr. Qiao Yu," she then said, her voice even and precise, "I asked you here today because I'd like to discuss my finances with you."
He straightened skillfully, professional mask sliding back into place. "Of course, Miss Zhang. Please let me know how I may assist you."
"I want to hire you as my personal financial manager," she said. "I want you to drop all other clients and work only for me. You will take your salary from me instead of my father."
Qiao Yu's brows drew together immediately.
This wasn't a teenager's whim.
This was a declaration.
"Miss Zhang," he said carefully, "that arrangement—"
"I also want you to inform my father to stop sending the monthly allowance," she added calmly. "I'm nineteen. I can support myself."
Silence fell into the room like a dropped plate.
Qiao Yu stared at her.
Yes.
The world had definitely ended.
He cleared his throat. "I… will inform President Zhang of your decision."
She tilted her head. "That's not what I asked, Mr. Qiao. I asked whether you accept my offer."
He exhaled slowly. "Miss Zhang, I'm glad you're finally paying attention to your finances, but—"
"Simon."
Simon Lau moved instantly, placing a slim folder into Qiao Yu's hands.
"Open it," Elena said. "First page."
Confused, Qiao Yu did as told.
Numbers filled his vision.
Account digits.
Balances.
His breath caught.
"This is a separate account I opened myself," Elena said calmly. "This is where I put the remainder of the fifteen million after buying my equipment."
Qiao Yu's fingers tightened around the folder.
This wasn't fifteen million.
This was far more.
He turned the page slowly.
And then another.
His pupils shrank.
Stocks.
Bonds.
Corporate equity.
Interest loans.
Domestic.
Foreign.
Profit margins.
Return rates.
His throat went dry. Just when did this even happen?
"There's currently a little over half a billion RMB in that account," Elena said lightly. "The next section is a list of companies I'm still planning to enter. I'd like you to handle all of them for me."
The room tilted.
The shelves swayed.
The palm leaves blurred.
For the first time in his career, Qiao Yu's mind went completely empty. No calculations. No risk assessment. No instinctive skepticism.
Just blank.
"Mr. Qiao?" Elena leaned forward slightly. "Are you alright?"
Simon crept closer and waved a hand in front of his face. "Boss… I think he stopped breathing..."
Qiao Yu didn't move or even breathe properly.
Simon's eyes widened in horror. "Oh no. Oh no. What if he's having a stroke?! Boss, what do we do?!"
"What?" Elena shot to her feet. "Call an ambulance! Now!"
Simon scrambled for his phone. "Hello! Yes! Emergency! I think someone's having a stroke—"
Qiao Yu jolted like he'd been struck by lightning.
"WHAT! Who's having a stroke?"
Both Elena and Simon froze.
"You!" Sminon shouted.
"I'm not having a stroke!" Qiao Yu barked. "I'm just— I was— Stop calling! Stop! I'm fine!"
Simon stared at him, then at Elena.
"Boss," he whispered, "he's alive."
Elena rushed over, gripping Qiao Yu's shoulders. "You're sure you're okay?"
"Yes! I'm healthy!" His face was flushed now. "Who in their right mind sees a man freeze and immediately calls an ambulance?"
Simon scratched his head. "You looked… very dead for a moment."
He hung up awkwardly, apologizing into the phone.
The room exhaled at once.
Qiao Yu rubbed his forehead, dignity in tatters. "Forgive my lapse just now, Miss Zhang."
"It's fine," she said gently. "The numbers can be shocking."
Shocking?
That was one way to put it.
They all drank tea again in silence.
Even Simon poured himself a cup. His hands were still shaking.
After calming down, Elena spoke again. "Mr. Qiao Yu. Shall we continue?"
"Yes," he said immediately. "Please."
"You've seen what I currently have," she said. "If you accept my offer, I will turn that entire account over to you. You may invest as you see fit. I will give directions from time to time, but fundamentally, I want you to make me richer."
Qiao Yu swallowed.
"I want to be a billionaire before I turn twenty-five."