Surrounded by Wolves
This man really was terrifying.
As Jiang Wu sat obediently in her seat, helpless and resigned, she cursed him silently a thousand times over.
Meanwhile, the culprit himself was still standing at the podium, a metal pointer in hand, explaining various aspects of business management. Every so often, the metal pointer tapped against the blackboard or podium with a crisp sound that made people’s hearts tremble.
As if it were striking straight at her chest.
The entire lecture lasted an hour and a half, and the room stayed remarkably quiet, no whispering, barely anyone so much as glancing at their phone. Except Jiang Wu, who refused to look up at all, hiding behind her own screen instead.
Beside her, Yao Peixue kept turning the name over, more and more convinced she’d heard it somewhere before. But for the life of her, she couldn’t remember where she had seen it.
After all, Huo Qingzhi was extremely low-key. Aside from people at the university knowing about him, he rarely appeared in public. The news hardly ever ran stories specifically about him.
When there was news about him, it never mentioned Huo Qingzhi by name, only his title. As for which corporate group he belonged to, Yao Peixue had never paid much attention. She figured she must have heard his name from someone in the past couple of days.
Huo Qingzhi was extremely knowledgeable when it came to corporate management.
The class progressed through three main topics: innovation-driven growth, implementation of departmental management hierarchies, and corporate crisis communications and response. His deep, resonant voice echoed throughout the tiered lecture hall through the speakers at the front.
Aside from the students in the back who had come simply to watch the spectacle, the actual project team members sitting in the front were all taking notes seriously.
He would pose questions during the lesson and call on students to answer. But aside from those who eagerly volunteered, when he called on someone, he generally gave priority to students involved in the project.
Huo Qingzhi was very easygoing about it. Even if they couldn’t answer, it was perfectly fine, which sent everyone’s opinion of him climbing even higher.
The more Jiang Wu listened to him speaking in such a calm, polished, impeccably proper manner, the more viciously she complained about him in her head.
Who would have thought that this rising corporate executive and visiting professor, who stood there with a pointer in hand, spoke with such courtesy and clarity, and carried himself with such refined composure, could be completely different behind closed doors?
Just as Jiang Wu was deliberately avoiding looking at him and mentally listing all his faults, Huo Qingzhi suddenly tapped his pointer toward the middle section of the first row.
“You there, third row from the back. The student with her head down.”
A layer of cold sweat broke out along Jiang Wu’s spine. She propped her forehead against her hand and tried to remember which row from the back she was sitting in.
Then Yao Peixue nudged her. “I think he’s calling you.”
Jiang Wu: “…”
In an instant, every pair of eyes in the room turned toward Jiang Wu.
Several students who had been distracted immediately sat up straight. After all, East Asian students generally had no particular love for being called on in class.
They could admire that handsome face all they wanted, but being singled out to answer a question was another matter entirely.
Someone whispered nervously, “They’re calling on people in the back too?”
Jiang Wu had no choice but to stand.
Huo Qingzhi’s expression and tone remained completely professional. “This student — suppose I’m currently facing a corporate crisis PR challenge. The public, due to some combination of real and fabricated issues, has developed a trust crisis toward my company, no longer believing in our corporate image.”
“With public opinion turning entirely against us — in your view, how should the weighting break down across the three elements of apologizing for the mistakes, explaining its root cause, and committing to corrective action?”
Jiang Wu looked at him from a considerable distance. She could hear the implication behind his words. “Professor, I’m not a management major.”
Huo Qingzhi replied, “I’d like to hear your opinion regardless.”
Jiang Wu pressed her lips together. “From the customer’s perspective, if I were dissatisfied because your company had provided me with poor service and concealed certain key issues, to the point where I no longer trusted your company’s image…”
“Then to me, the apology, explanation, and promise would all just be superficial gestures. They wouldn’t have any practical meaning.”
Jiang Wu’s answer effectively shut the question down entirely.
Even Yao Peixue could tell that Jiang Wu was being a little too blunt with the professor and quietly reminded her, “He’s asking from a business-management perspective.”
Just as the entire room fell silent, Huo Qingzhi picked the thread back up himself. “So, what you need is for us to prove that our service can still satisfy you again before you’re willing to establish a working relationship with us again, is that right?”
But when Jiang Wu heard him talking about “service” and “satisfy,” every hair on her body seemed to stand on end. She desperately wanted to say she hadn’t meant it that way.
But with so many people watching her, there was no way she could say anything more.
Huo Qingzhi waited for her answer. “Is that right?”
Jiang Wu could only say, “Yes.”
“All right, thank you.” Huo Qingzhi gestured for her to sit down.
After all, Jiang Wu clearly had no intention of answering seriously, and her response had gone completely off track.
One of the project members eagerly stepped in and continued answering the question. The answer was extremely professional.
Professional enough that the moment Jiang Wu heard Huo Qingzhi’s polished formal response to it, she knew for certain that whatever he’d just said to her hadn’t been only about the literal words.
The class continued on smoothly. Almost no one paid any attention to the question Huo Qingzhi had asked Jiang Wu.
Jiang Wu, meanwhile, was only thinking about how she was going to get out later and how to avoid running into him again. She absolutely could not run into him again.
Jiang Wu quietly told Yao Peixue, “I have something urgent to take care of. I’m going to leave first later, so you don’t need to worry about me.”
“Oh, okay.” Yao Peixue agreed, though she was a little surprised. “What’s wrong? Are you having trouble adjusting to the climate too?”
“No.” Jiang Wu found it difficult to explain. “I’ll tell you another day.”
Before long, Huo Qingzhi finished everything he had planned to teach and indicated that everyone could leave. He remained at the podium, calmly packing up the briefcase he had brought with him.
Composed, unhurried, perfectly at ease.
Meanwhile, Jiang Wu was trapped in the innermost part of her row below, desperate to leave but unable to get out. By the time she finally fought her way clear of the classroom, Huo Qingzhi had already been stopped by someone with a question.
She got in line at the elevator and kept glancing back from time to time to see whether he had come out. Everyone crowding the elevator now was fresh out of the same lecture. The earliest group had already gone downstairs; they were among the later group who had been stuck inside and left afterward.
Jiang Wu stepped into the elevator. Seeing that no one else was getting on, she pressed the close button. The elevator doors slowly came together, gradually cutting off the light outside. Only then did Jiang Wu let out a sigh of relief.
But the very next second, as if sensing something, the elevator doors slowly opened again. The long corridor lights spilled inside with them, where the empty doorway had been a moment ago.
Huo Qingzhi stood there, one hand pressed against the open button, staring at her without blinking. His gaze came through the backlight, half-shadowed, sharp and cold.
Jiang Wu’s heart skipped a full beat.
He stepped into the elevator, and Jiang Wu instinctively backed away two steps, only to accidentally bump into the student behind her.
“Sorry.” Jiang Wu hurriedly apologized.
A clear, youthful male voice answered beside her. “It’s okay.” The young man looked at Jiang Wu a couple more times. “Are you from our school?”
“I’m not.”
“No wonder.” The young man thought to himself that if a girl like her were in their school, they would definitely have noticed.
Huo Qingzhi stood beside them, listening to the whole exchange. The elevator stopped at the next floor, and several more students got on.
Huo Qingzhi stepped back along with the crowd. Jiang Wu was jostled by Huo Qingzhi as he moved backward and stumbled. Immediately, Huo Qingzhi caught her by the arm and steadied her.
Goosebumps broke out all over Jiang Wu’s body. In the crowded elevator, no one noticed the tiny exchange.
Jiang Wu wanted to pull his large hand off her arm, but he didn’t budge an inch. Instead, his hand slid slowly down along her forearm until his fingers closed around her knuckles.
Then, following the spaces between her fingers, he slowly pried her five fingers open and slipped his fingers in between hers. The thin calluses on his fingers brushed over the sensitive skin of her fingers and palm.
With all those students surrounding them, Jiang Wu shuddered in small, helpless waves, wanting to pull free, but the crowd left no room to move.
Meanwhile, the young man beside her was still talking. “Did you come to sit in on the class today?”
“Yes.”
“If you’re interested in our field, can I get your contact information?”
“No, no. Thank you.” Jiang Wu politely declined.
The elevator seemed to pass another floor and gave a slight jolt.
At such close quarters, the faint scent of rose and cocoa lingering on Jiang Wu drifted past both the man and the young student. It was a delicate fragrance, impossible to pin down. Just as the scent became distinct, the elevator doors opened with a chime.
The students filed out one after another.
Jiang Wu finally managed to free herself from Huo Qingzhi’s hand, and that faint trace of fragrance dispersed completely from around them, impossible to catch again. Like someone desperately thirsty, Huo Qingzhi felt a dry, restless ache in his chest, something almost feral beneath the surface. He watched Jiang Wu walk away.
Then he followed at an unhurried pace. From time to time, students who recognized him would pass by and politely greet him.
“Hello, Professor.”
Huo Qingzhi acknowledged each of them, but his expression remained cool and distant, like an icy mountain range that made it clear no one was welcome to come near.
Jiang Wu kept hearing that persistent, ghost-like “Hello, Professor” from behind her, and that “professor” was following her the whole time.
The sound of red-soled leather shoes striking the marble floor echoed through the spacious, brightly lit academic building, unusually clear.
Jiang Wu left the building and stepped onto a secluded path with hardly anyone around. The surroundings were silent, making the sound of those footsteps seem especially eerie.
Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. She stopped and turned to face him. “Why are you here?”
“The Beijing branch is rolling out a new operating framework. I need to oversee its implementation for two months.”
Two months—the exact same duration as her project.
Jiang Wu knew immediately what he was thinking.
They stood in silence for a while. An indescribable, strange tension seemed to settle between them.
“I went home. I really like the calligraphy piece you put up at home.” Huo Qingzhi brought up something perfectly ordinary. “It looks very good in the study too.”
“Thank you for giving it to me.”
“I didn’t give it to you,” Jiang Wu corrected him. “I like it too.”
“Oh.” Huo Qingzhi took a few steps toward her, studying her seriously. “It seems my wife and I have very similar tastes.”
Jiang Wu choked on her words. Realizing that this was another one of his traps, she found herself completely at a loss for words and turned around awkwardly to leave.
Even though some time had passed, whenever Jiang Wu saw him, the things she had read before still kept resurfacing in her mind. As if countless invisible hands were reaching out from the darkness, trying to pull her down into some abyss of depravity.
Jiang Wu desperately tried to escape that strange feeling. She had already gone some distance when Huo Qingzhi suddenly called after her.
“Jiang Wu, even after everything, you still don’t hate me.”
Jiang Wu’s footsteps faltered.
Huo Qingzhi looked at her back. “Even knowing everything you now know, every rotten thought I’ve had about you.”
Huo Qingzhi had raised Jiang Wu from childhood himself. He knew better than anyone what she was like when she truly disliked someone.
A child who had grown up spoiled and wouldn’t swallow her grievances. If she didn’t like what she heard, she’d immediately fire straight back on the spot.
If she didn’t like someone, she wouldn’t give them even the slightest bit of face, let alone allow them to touch her.
At worst, she would react the way she had with Huo Yingli, slapping him across the face to make her displeasure known.
If Jiang Wu truly disliked him, she certainly wouldn’t have gone so far as to arrange a place where the two of them had once lived together, decorating a space filled with traces of him.
If she had truly rejected him, she would never have allowed him to come this far, step by step.
Huo Qingzhi admitted that he had used quite a few methods to get here.
But the truth was — “If you had ever shown me, at any point, that you hated any of this, none of this would have happened.”
He would have stopped.
But she hadn’t. She never had.
Perhaps her sense of morality was simply too strong. She couldn’t accept that the good brother she had known had turned into someone she could no longer recognize.
That one sentence from Huo Qingzhi threw Jiang Wu’s thoughts into chaos. A question she’d genuinely never once asked herself.
Don’t hate him?
She stood rooted there, while the quiet, deserted path around her suddenly filled with distant laughter and chatter. Distracted, she didn’t register it until a pair of snow boots and white trousers appeared in her line of sight…
A long-familiar feeling she hadn’t experienced in quite some time suddenly rose within her.
Someone called out her name. “Huo Wenni.”
Jiang Wu looked up.
Huo Qingzhi’s figure remained hidden in the dim path behind her, while Gu Jingsong stood beneath the bright lights and waved hello.
Jiang Wu was surprised. “What are you doing here?”
“You sent me the address. It didn’t look far, so I came to your university to try my luck.”
“Looks like I got lucky.” Gu Jingsong glanced past her, toward the dark, shadowed grove behind her, catching only a vague figure standing there. “Were you talking to someone just now?”
“No.” Jiang Wu found it difficult to explain her relationship with Huo Qingzhi here of all places and grabbed Gu Jingsong’s arm instead. “Let’s go.”
Jiang Wu was also worried that Huo Qingzhi might follow them, but unexpectedly, he didn’t. Distracted, she asked Gu Jingsong, “What if you couldn’t find me? Wouldn’t you have made the trip here for nothing tonight?”
Gu Jingsong smiled, seemingly unconcerned. “Meeting is fate. Not meeting is fate too.”
He was fairly familiar with the campus of Peking University, having come here several times for film promotions. “Are you going home tonight, or staying in the dorm?”
Jiang Wu had originally wanted to say she was going home, but after thinking about the fact that Huo Qingzhi was back, she said instead, “I’m staying in the dorm.”
“Which dorm building are you in? It’s dark now. I’ll walk you there. We can take a stroll along the way.”
“I’m in a temporary dormitory I applied for.”
On the campus paths at night, students came and went, layer upon layer of figures blurring into hazy lights and shadows. Only the pair in the distance stood out with remarkable clarity.
Gu Jingsong’s outfit didn’t look out of place on a university campus.
Standing among all those young couples, he and Jiang Wu, for all the world, like just another well-matched pair.
It made a person wonder — If Gu Jingsong had also come to Beijing back then, would they have ended up like this?
That was what Gu Jingsong was thinking.
Jiang Wu, however, wasn’t. “I remember you said you were coming back to China at the end of last year.”
“The project in the Americas came up unexpectedly and kept me there for a long time. I only just made it back.”
Jiang Wu nodded. “Work comes first.”
Gu Jingsong chatted with her casually. “How have you been lately?”
“Good.”
Gu Jingsong gave a soft laugh. “That’s it? One word?”
Realizing she’d been a little distant with him, Jiang Wu pulled herself back. “Sorry. I was just thinking about something.”
“What were you thinking about? Tell me.”
Jiang Wu didn’t want to tell him too much. “I was thinking about someone.”
Perhaps Jiang Wu herself didn’t realize how ambiguous those words sounded.
The smile on Gu Jingsong’s face faded slightly. “Who?”
“It’s not important.” Jiang Wu glossed over the question. “I was just wondering whether I should hate him.”
Gu Jingsong’s brows drew together slightly. Working in the film industry, where scripts were polished every day, he had an instinctive sensitivity to every choice of wording.
“Hate” was an emotion. There was no question of whether an emotion was something one “should” or “shouldn’t” feel.
When an emotion needed to be suppressed with a rational word like “should,” it meant that, in essence, the emotional response had already gone beyond reason.
This wasn’t a question of hate at all. It was a question of love.
Gu Jingsong remained calm. “If he did something you don’t like, there’s nothing wrong with hating him for it.”
Jiang Wu followed his reasoning. “He has indeed done many bad things.”
She’d used “bad” rather than “don’t like.”
He continued, “If you think it’s bad, then you should hate him.”
This time, Jiang Wu didn’t follow his line of reasoning. Instead, she asked in confusion, “Is that so?”
“Mm.”
As they talked, they reached the dormitory building.
Jiang Wu took a deep breath and thanked him politely. “Thank you. I’m here.”
“Today was a bit sudden. Next time you’re free, I’ll come find you again.”
“Okay.” Jiang Wu agreed and turned to go inside.
When she reached the entrance, she saw a huge bouquet of roses sitting on the reception desk. Receiving flowers was a common sight on campus, so Jiang Wu didn’t pay much attention to it.
Until she walked closer and the duty staff, recognizing her, cheerfully gestured toward the bouquet. “Child, these are from your boyfriend.”
Jiang Wu stopped in surprise. She looked at the flowers, then at Gu Jingsong.
Gu Jingsong, too, stared at the bouquet, quiet for a long moment.
Then, catching Jiang Wu’s glance, he politely shook his head. He meant that they weren’t from him.
Jiang Wu immediately realized who had sent them.
There was a card tucked inside. Jiang Wu pulled it out.
[I can’t deny the dark desires and thoughts I have toward you. If I’ve frightened you, that’s my fault.]
[But I’m sorry. I can’t change them.]
Jiang Wu’s entire body broke out in goosebumps.
Right then, Yao Peixue returned from behind them. At first glance, she spotted the fresh-faced, handsome man in white who had walked Jiang Wu back.
And the bouquet of roses in Jiang Wu’s arms.
Yao Peixue looked as though she’d stumbled onto some major gossip and hurried over with a grin. “So, this is why you were trying to get rid of me earlier. What’s going on here?”
“Did your boyfriend walk you back?”
Afraid Gu Jingsong would feel awkward hearing that, Jiang Wu quickly put the card away and urged Yao Peixue along. “Come on, let’s go. Let’s go inside.”
Jiang Wu pushed Yao Peixue into the dormitory building.
The gentle smile that usually rested on Gu Jingsong’s face slowly disappeared, and he remained standing there for a long time. Meanwhile, Gu Jingsong wasn’t the only one who had heard those words.
Down in the shadows beneath the building, inside the Cullinan parked there, Huo Qingzhi had heard them too.
Especially those words — Did your boyfriend walk you back?
Behind the black bodywork and one-way glass, Huo Qingzhi watched Gu Jingsong, who was still standing outside.
The entire car seemed to sink into a brooding silence.
Huo Qingzhi had driven there himself, choosing a discreet, understated Cullinan.
He had set his overcoat aside, shirt sleeves rolled up to his forearms, and one hand rested on the steering wheel, the tendons and bones of his wrist clearly defined.
Jiang Wu’s temporary dormitory was in the same building as the doctoral students’ dormitory.
Single rooms, with men and women housed in the same building.
On the way, Yao Peixue suddenly said to Jiang Wu, “I remember who Huo Qingzhi is now. Isn’t he your brother?”
Jiang Wu’s fingers tightened slightly around the bouquet.
Seeing her reaction, Yao Peixue thought she might have gotten it wrong. “Did I remember incorrectly?”
“No.” Jiang Wu knew that with all the commotion surrounding her family and the changes within the group, anyone who knew even a little about the situation would know what her relationship with Huo Qingzhi had been.
“No wonder he suddenly called on you to answer a question.” Yao Peixue thought back to what had happened in class.
That left Jiang Wu a little nervous. That same strange feeling of secretly having an affair behind everyone’s back returned, and even the bouquet in her arms suddenly felt like a hot potato.
Evidence of a crime.
But Yao Peixue noticed nothing unusual and didn’t think anything of it. “So, he’s really strict. He even keeps an eye on you when you’re using your phone in class.”
“And he made you answer a question you didn’t know.” Yao Peixue looked at the roses and asked, “Does he control you when you’re dating someone too?”
The corners of Jiang Wu’s lips twitched twice. She forced a dry smile and cut Yao Peixue off. “I’ve reached my room. Get some rest early, bb.”
With that, Jiang Wu went inside and closed the door.
She turned on the light and looked at the vivid red bouquet of roses in her hands. Restless and distracted, she placed them on the balcony.
Jiang Wu stared at them for who knew how long, until around ten that night her phone rang.
It was the housekeeper who looked after the Beijing residence. Normally, the housekeeper only went over to clean after receiving a message from Jiang Wu during the day. She rarely called at night.
Jiang Wu answered. “Auntie, what happened?”
The housekeeper’s voice on the other end sounded anxious. “Ah Wu, the neighbors contacted me and said they smelled gas coming from our place. They’ve knocked on the door, but no one is answering. It’ll take me some time to get there. Could you go over and check as soon as you can?”
“What?” Jiang Wu immediately said, “I understand. I’ll go over right now.”
She hung up, grabbed her keys, and hurried out.
Their residence was not far from the university, only a few minutes away on foot. Without giving it much thought, Jiang Wu immediately called Huo Qingzhi. It had been an hour or two since class ended. Huo Qingzhi was most likely at home.
But if he was there, why hadn’t he answered the door? Jiang Wu was getting anxious. Especially after she called Huo Qingzhi several times and got no answer, her anxiety only grew.
Huo Qingzhi had never ignored her calls. Even when he was busy, he would at least decline the call and send her a message afterward. But this time, there was nothing.
No message. Nothing at all.
One troubling possibility after another surfaced in Jiang Wu’s mind. She quickened her pace and reached their residential complex, then hurried upstairs.
Jiang Wu flung open the front door. The entire apartment was dark, but there was no smell of gas in the air. Instead, there was a strong scent of roses. She placed her things on the cabinet by the entrance and hurried inside.
When she rounded into the living room, she immediately saw Huo Qingzhi seated in a single armchair in the dimly lit room. A rose was in his hand, and he was staring directly at her.
He seemed to particularly like staying in the shadows.
Huo Qingzhi had one long leg propped up, his posture carrying an unmistakable sense of possession. His ring, watch, and gold-rimmed glasses had all been removed and placed on the side table.
His left hand rested loosely there as he held the flower by its stem, the newly opened petals curling around his fingers. Slowly, one layer after another, he rubbed the tightly closed petals open.
His fingertips followed the layers inward, gently spreading the flower wider. Every now and then, a trace of moisture gathered on the petals and remained on his fingertips. It was a strangely deliberate way of handling a flower.
The man’s dark eyes remained fixed on her. “Decided to come back, after all?”