After My Rebirth, My Husband Pampers Me Everyday!

Chapter 161: I AM STRUGGLING

Guiying stilled at that. The words landed differently than anything else Liuxian had said that night.

"Really?" he asked, almost to himself. "Maybe that’s why I find it hard to let it go."

The realization sat in his chest, quiet but undeniable. It wasn’t just about the work being over. It was about losing something he hadn’t admitted to himself that he loved.

Liuxian didn’t rush to fill the silence. He said, "Not one person who has seen you work is going to let you disappear. Anyone who has watched you carry a collection the way you carried this one will not simply move on. The calls will come. They always come for people who are worth calling." He pressed his lips briefly to the top of Guiying’s head.

Guiying remained quiet with his face pressed into Liuxian’s shoulder. He felt the ache in his chest shift slightly. It did not disappear, but it became more bearable.

Liuxian added, "And in the meantime, you still have the art room. You have the Saturday dinner. You have a stock portfolio that has been performing suspiciously well, and I have many questions about it." He paused and said, "You are not a person who runs out of things to do, Guiying. You never have been."

Guiying laughed, short and wet, and pressed the back of his hand against his eyes. He said, "I’m not crying."

Liuxian agreed without looking and handed him a tissue from the side table. He said, "Of course not."

Guiying took the tissue, and the laugh that came out of him this time was more real. He stayed where he was with his head on Liuxian’s shoulder while the lamp burned warm and low beside them.

Guiying fell asleep gradually, his breathing evening out against Liuxian’s shoulder. His grip on Liuxian’s sleeve loosened by degrees until his hand went still.

Liuxian waited until he was certain, then shifted him carefully against the pillows and pulled the blanket up. He watched Guiying’s face for a moment in the low lamplight before returning to his desk.

He opened his laptop and pulled up Zhang Wei’s message.

---

Boss,

Ruijie update first,

Three days of consecutive decline, closing today at ¥2,780 per share, down from ¥3,240 at the start of the week. That’s a 14.2% drop, and Shen Zihao’s board has already called an emergency session for Friday. Hengda Capital and Sunrise Asset Management are both making quiet noises about their positions. Combined, that’s roughly ¥340 million in holdings. If they move, Friday’s session is going to be very uncomfortable for him.

His CFO has been on the phone with three banks today. Make of that what you will.

My recommendation is we hold until after Friday and see how the board session goes before we move again. But that’s your call.

Second thing: South China Sea damage assessment* came in this afternoon. Total confirmed loss is ¥103 million across two containers.

Hengli Group took the biggest hit at ¥42 million. Their procurement director wants an urgent meeting, and he’s not happy, but he hasn’t walked yet. Baorun Industries is at ¥31 million. Their legal team sent a letter of concern this afternoon. The one I’d watch is Shenzhen Development Group: ¥30 million loss and complete silence from their side, which usually means they’re talking to lawyers before they talk to us.

You need to be at the port tomorrow morning. I’ve set the Hengli meeting for 9 a.m., and I’ll have talking points to you by 6. I’ll be there at 7.

ZW

---

Liuxian read through the Ruijie section, typed back a single line to Zhang Wei, and sent it. Then he scrolled down to the South China Sea section.

¥103 million.

He set his tea down, exhaled slowly, and pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose. He stayed there for a moment with his eyes closed.

Hengli, Baorun, Shenzhen Development. Three names that were going to cost him sleep tonight and most of his morning tomorrow. Three sets of people who had lost significant money and would walk into that port meeting wanting answers he’d have to deliver calmly and convincingly before nine, while making sure none of them walked out with their lawyers already dialing.

He sighed, dropped his hand, and looked at the ceiling.

Then he looked at the bed.

Guiying was fast asleep, one hand curled loosely against the pillow, his face completely peaceful. Entirely removed from the ¥103 million problem sitting open on the desk three meters away.

Liuxian looked at him a moment longer than necessary.

Then he turned back to his laptop and opened a new document.

Seven at the port. He’d have the words ready by six. Guiying would still be asleep.

Thursday.

Guiying woke up to an empty bed.

He stared at the ceiling for a moment and noticed that the room was too quiet. The lamp on the side table was off, and the blanket was tucked tight around him at the edges in a way it never was when he tucked it himself.

Liuxian had been here earlier, and now he was gone.

Guiying turned his head and saw that the bed beside him was smoothed out. Across the chair in the corner, Liuxian’s shirt hung over the back, left there as if he had dressed in the dark and moved quickly before leaving.

Guiying sat up, ran a hand through his hair, and looked at the shirt for a moment.

He crossed the room before he realized he was moving and picked it up. The scent hit him immediately, clean and cool and familiar, his shoulders dropped a fraction without him deciding to let them. He held it a second longer than he meant to, then folded it and set it back down.

It was probably work that had pulled Liuxian out before dawn. Liuxian never said it out loud, but he was sure it was a work thing.

Guiying went to the bathroom, splashed water on his face, and caught his reflection in the mirror. He saw blonde hair and blue eyes, and it was still weird to see in the morning light.

The art room was waiting for him, and he had been thinking about the square format series since New York, so there was no reason to put it off.

He made it halfway down the corridor before his phone buzzed.

The screen showed Limo’s name.

Guiying opened the message.

Good morning, Guiying. I hope you slept well.

I’m going to say something I’ve never said to you before and I need you to hear me properly. Something has been bothering me for a while now and I haven’t known how to bring it up because I’m not the kind of person who brings things up. You know that about me.

But I’m struggling.