Chapter Sixty-Two: A Narrow Escape from a Bad End

If the sudden knock at the door had already startled both Xue Tian’ai and Gan Bingning, then the voice that followed was nothing less than a bolt from the blue.

"Bingning, it’s Qin Mengxue. Are you in your office?" There was no doubt—the voice belonged to Qin Mengxue, Xue Tian’ai’s wife and Gan Bingning’s boss.

“Oh no! It’s President Qin. What do we do? What do we do?” Gan Bingning panicked instantly, her eyes pleading for help as she looked to Xue Tian’ai.

Feeling her desperate gaze, Xue Tian’ai could only manage a wry smile. Truth be told, his nerves were no better than hers; after all, the woman outside the door was his wife.

Knock, knock, knock!

The knocking sounded again, followed by Qin Mengxue’s voice: “Bingning, are you there?”

Gan Bingning was now utterly flustered. If her boss caught her in the office with a man, doing what they were just doing, it would be a disaster.

But at that moment, a calm and steady whisper reached her ear: “Don’t panic. Answer President Qin, open the door, and don’t worry about me. I’ll handle myself.”

Seeing the state Gan Bingning was in, Xue Tian’ai knew she had completely lost her composure. Inwardly, he couldn’t help but smile wryly—Bingning, if you knew the woman outside was actually my legitimate wife, you might have fainted on the spot.

Gan Bingning, hearing Xue Tian’ai’s words, finally regained her senses. Right now, his advice was all she could cling to—her only lifeline.

“Yes, yes, President Qin, I’m in the office. I’ll open the door for you right away.” Doing her best to calm herself, she hastily tidied her clothes and walked toward the door.

Meanwhile, Xue Tian’ai’s mind was working at lightning speed, searching for the best solution. His eyes scanned every corner of the office, looking for a place to hide.

Although the manager’s office at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs was large, actual hiding spots were pitifully scarce. There was a big cabinet, but it was stuffed with files—no way a person could fit.

He glanced at the windows. That was an option. With his skills, even from the upper floors, he could escape safely through the window. But while that might avoid Qin Mengxue’s detection for the moment, he’d be exposed to anyone outside.

With the way rumors spread these days, it would inevitably reach Qin Mengxue’s ears.

Still unwilling, Xue Tian’ai swept the office with his gaze while mentally preparing an excuse in case he couldn’t hide in time. But just then, something caught his eye, and his face lit up.

By now, Gan Bingning had reached the door, her heart pounding. She glanced back at Xue Tian’ai, only to find he’d vanished—she had no idea where he’d hidden himself in such a short time.

There was no time to think further. Bracing herself, Gan Bingning opened the door and forced a smile. “President Qin, is something the matter?”

As the door swung open, it was, unsurprisingly, Qin Mengxue who stood there, her face etched with concern.

“Bingning, are you alright? Why is your face so red?” Qin Mengxue stared intently at Gan Bingning’s fair cheeks, her eyes full of worry.

At that moment, the color in Gan Bingning’s face was more vivid than ever—pale from fear at the sudden arrival, yet tinged with a charming flush from her recent exertions with Xue Tian’ai.

Flustered by Qin Mengxue’s question, Gan Bingning stammered, “Ah… President Qin, I’m fine. Nothing’s wrong.”

“That’s good. I called your office twice and your cellphone once, but you didn’t answer. I was worried, so I came down to check on you. Are you sure you’re alright?” As she spoke, Qin Mengxue peered into the office.

The office was still a mess, the curtains tightly drawn—a far cry from its usual tidy state.

Feeling Qin Mengxue’s gaze, Gan Bingning grew even more uneasy, cold sweat beading on her forehead. She hadn’t realized her boss had called her several times, and she’d been… otherwise preoccupied.

“Ah… I was in the restroom just now, so I must have missed your calls. By the way, is there something you need, President Qin?” she quickly asked, trying to redirect Qin Mengxue’s attention.

She still didn’t know where Xue Tian’ai was hiding. If Qin Mengxue sensed anything amiss, there would be no way to explain.

“I wanted to have a brief meeting with you and Jiaqi. Is now a good time?” Though Qin Mengxue was curious about the unusual state of Gan Bingning’s office, she decided not to pry—everyone has their privacy after all.

“Yes, of course. Where shall we meet?” Gan Bingning replied without hesitation.

“If you’re free, come upstairs with me—we’ll meet in my office.”

“No problem at all.” Seeing that Qin Mengxue had no intention of entering her office, Gan Bingning breathed a small sigh of relief and answered quickly.

“Good. Can you come upstairs now?”

“Absolutely, President Qin. Let’s go.” Gan Bingning finally let out a long sigh of relief, cast a worried glance back into her office, then closed the door and followed Qin Mengxue upstairs.

Once the office door had been closed for a while and he was sure the coast was clear, a man emerged from beneath Gan Bingning’s desk, drenched in sweat.

It was none other than Xue Tian’ai, who had managed in that brief moment to hide himself under the desk. He collapsed onto the floor, gasping for breath.

Though he had maintained a calm exterior while comforting Gan Bingning, he had been anything but calm inside. Had Qin Mengxue discovered him, things would have ended badly.

After all, Qin Mengxue was not a woman who would tolerate her husband dallying with another woman—especially one of her own subordinates—right under her nose. If she’d found out, she’d have destroyed him.

Fortunately, Qin Mengxue hadn’t even stepped into the office before leaving.

Lust is a double-edged sword, he couldn’t help but repeat to himself. He’d have to be more careful in the future. With that thought, he stood, then dropped into Gan Bingning’s office chair.

He turned on her computer and browsed around. To his surprise, the desktop was extremely tidy—no games, not even basic video or chat apps.

It was as bare as an unfurnished room, just “My Computer,” “Recycle Bin,” and a few work folders.

Did this woman really do nothing but work? She didn’t seem that uptight. Xue Tian’ai couldn’t help but marvel at the thought.

Bored with the empty desktop, he shut down the computer.

He figured enough time had passed, and Qin Mengxue likely wouldn’t be back, so it was best to take this opportunity to leave Gan Bingning’s office.

With a soft sigh, he got up, drew back the curtains, and opened the window, letting sunlight and fresh air flood into the recently disheveled battlefield.

After straightening up the chaos a bit, Xue Tian’ai finally left the office, feeling refreshed.

He made his way to the nineteenth floor, pausing by the large window to glance at the street below. Seeing nothing unusual, he ambled toward the stairs.

...

In the office of the Commander-in-Chief of the Northeastern Military District, after his fourth brother Xue Xiquan had left, Xue Xiwen carefully reviewed the final draft of the Yangda Tender documents, not daring to be careless or make a single mistake.

He had known about the Yangda Tender from the beginning, but hadn’t paid it much mind at first.

But after his son Xue Tian’ai returned to the country, and with the central government’s new directive to improve the living conditions and quality of life for military personnel, Xue Xiwen ended up purchasing the rights to host the tender.

He intended to use this opportunity to build new, beautiful residences for the Northeast Military District’s soldiers, and perhaps—through working together—ease the tension that had existed between him and his son for so many years.

Originally, the Yangda Tender was for import-export trade, but after Xue Xiwen acquired it, he transformed it into a real estate project.

He had to work tirelessly to revise the tender, filling it with the details of the new project.

After another half hour of meticulous editing, the final version of the Yangda Tender document was complete.

Rubbing his sore wrist, he gazed at the finished file on the screen. A look of satisfaction crossed his face, though beneath it lay a trace of bitterness and hope.