Chapter 16 Not Directed at You

The staff at the restaurant knew Chen Aijia, so they didn’t insist that Yang Changfeng had to be dressed to the nines to dine. After all, they weren’t fools—why risk offending such a valued customer as Chen Aijia by clinging to a rule that was, frankly, pointless?

Yang Changfeng felt rather disappointed—why wasn’t there anyone willing to call him out for his sloppy attire? Not even a chance for a quarrel.

What a pity.

Sensing the itch in Yang Changfeng to stir up trouble, Chen Aijia, after settling into her usual seat in a quiet corner by the window, gave a low warning, “You—Yang, don’t cause trouble. I’m ordering you as your company boss: this weekend, go and buy yourself a few decent suits. Did you hear me?”

Yang Changfeng leafed through the menu. It was all in French—he understood it perfectly well, but pretending not to was entertaining in its own way.

He tossed the menu onto the table and rolled his eyes. “So whatever you tell me to do, I have to do? Don’t forget, you’re my wife. Since when does a wife talk to her husband like that? Trying to start a family feud, are you?”

Chen Aijia sighed, pressing her temples as she felt them throb. She understood now—he was just looking for a fight.

Don’t think that the elegance of the place would keep him from making a scene. At their very first meeting, hadn’t he loudly called her “wife” in front of so many people? He truly had no shame and didn’t care in the least about saving face.

Chen Aijia was quite certain: if she dared to argue with this shameless man on the subject, he’d start banging on the table and shouting, humiliating her all over again.

Forget it—he really was incorrigible.

Once more, she mentally affixed that label to him—shameless man. She imagined grabbing a marker and writing the words in bold across Yang’s forehead; the image was so vivid it actually brought her some satisfaction.

“This weekend I’ll have Anya go shopping with you!” she declared again, her tone brooking no argument regarding her solution to this intolerable problem.

A pretty girl to go with him?

Now that was something he could agree to.

Yang Changfeng was pleased, but immediately began rubbing his fingers together.

“What is it now?” Chen Aijia grew wary at once, clutching the menu to her chest, her face full of suspicion.

Yang Changfeng felt not the slightest embarrassment and replied with righteous indignation, “Since someone’s going with me, I won’t refuse, but I have no money. Will you reimburse me or not?”

Chen Aijia’s temper flared, “Didn’t I just give you a hundred and fifty thousand at lunch?”

“I didn’t want to buy clothes—it’s you who’s making me. Why should I spend my hard-earned money?” Yang Changfeng seemed even more unreasonable than she was, his tone as brazen and shameless as a foreign ministry spokesperson.

Chen Aijia finally saw him for what he was: stingy, shameless, greedy, incorrigible—a true scoundrel!

“Fine, fine, you’ll be reimbursed. Is that enough?” she muttered miserably, the veins in her forehead standing out. To stave off an explosion of anger, she quickly opened the menu, seeking distraction in anything else.

A waiter approached. Chen Aijia spoke to him in fluent French.

Yang Changfeng pretended not to understand, though inwardly everything was crystal clear.

Caviar, really, wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

Couldn’t they add a bit more salt?

Privately criticizing Chen Aijia’s taste, Yang Changfeng glanced around at the other diners, all impeccably dressed, their speech so restrained that their lips barely moved. What a suffocating way to live.

Just then, he heard the waiter ask, “And for you, sir?”

Beef…

No, wait. I don’t know French. I’m a country bumpkin and I mustn’t give myself away. Let’s see what Chen Aijia does.

Chen Aijia didn’t think he understood French. Out of courtesy, she paused for two seconds, then turned back to the waiter and said, “For this gentleman, please prepare…”

He listened covertly as she ordered—fortunately, she didn’t set him up with any of those notorious “dark dishes” that would traumatize a first-timer at French cuisine. Just a simple steak and a glass of red wine—a standard, unremarkable French meal.

The waiter smiled knowingly, stealing a glance at Yang Changfeng and finding it truly amusing—how had this man, dressed in clothes worth a pittance, managed to score such a stunning beauty as Boss Chen?

Don’t be fooled by the waiter’s dyed blond hair and little ponytail—he was a local, probably a French major or a returnee from overseas. For Yang Changfeng’s sake, he kept his face free of any contemptuous expression one might expect from a melodrama.

There was a reason Chen Aijia liked Eiffel’s; she was anything but superficial.

After the waiter departed, Yang Changfeng stopped looking around and protested, “Hey, wait, I haven’t ordered yet!”

Chen Aijia snapped, “Are you doing this on purpose? Forget it, I’ve already ordered. Mr. Yang, could you please try to be a little more serious? Just for my sake, all right?”

Yang Changfeng immediately sat up straight, saying not another word.

At least, even if it was pretend, he looked much more presentable this way.

Chen Aijia glanced around guiltily—no one was nearby. She hesitated, then quietly said, “Enough, let’s talk business. How did your first day at work go? Any insights?”

How perfunctory, Yang Changfeng thought, blinking and shaking his head before finally saying, “Not good. Your control over the company is really lacking—sorry, but I’m just being honest.”

She’d thought his head shake meant he had nothing to say, and felt a twinge of disappointment—only for him to blurt out something so blunt it almost gave her whiplash.

She said, with a touch of annoyance, “Oh, really? Then I’m all ears!”

Her tone was openly mocking. She didn’t believe for a second that this country bumpkin could spot any problems on his first day at work—did he think he was some kind of genius?

As for his last remark, she chose to ignore it.

“You can’t even manage the security department, and you call yourself a boss? Don’t blame me for being blunt—I’m not going to spare your feelings. The security department is bloated, all they know is their own chief, not the company, let alone their boss. Anyone with eyes can see that much—do you really need to ask?”

Yang Changfeng sneered, “I wasn’t going to say anything, but since you asked, I’ll tell you straight. Do you even know what’s wrong with the security department’s shift scheduling? If you don’t, don’t blame me for being harsh. As a boss, you’re not even as competent as the owner of the convenience stall outside the company gates.”

It was as if he’d said, “No offense, really, but you’re just trash.”