novelraw Chapter 752: It Has to Be You, Kiss
Chapter 752: It Has to Be You, Kiss
The Plaza, 16th floor Royal Suite.
In the study, the air was taut.
On speakerphone came Tang Song’s steady, powerful voice: “Safety comes first. Under no circumstances can Director Jin be put at any risk. I’ll wait by the door. Keep this confidential.”
“Understood, President Tang!”
Shangguan Qiuyas decisively pressed the hang-up button.
She looked up at her boss on the sofa.
With a serious expression she whispered respectfully and apologetically, “Director Jin, President Tang has agreed. No time to waste. We’ll head over immediately. Everything must prioritize your safety!”
“Mhm, thank you, Shangguan.” Secretary Jin rose and lightly patted her shoulder, her tone revealing no emotional tremor, “You handled the emergency response well. Quick and decisive. Far more thorough than that incident in London three years ago.”
There was not an ounce of gloating triumph on her face;
instead she wore the calm severity unique to someone facing a sudden corporate crisis.
Her acting was exquisite, breathtaking.Shangguan Qiuyas understood immediately and bowed her head in complete cooperation, voice contrite, “It was the security team’s lapse that alarmed you.”
“Let’s go.”
Secretary Jin put on her coat and walked out of the study.
The wide royal suite living room was filled with a harsh, solemn atmosphere.
Several female security officers wearing earpieces held professional detectors and were conducting a carpet-by-carpet sweep.
The hotel manager and several executives stood pale and sweating nearby, barely daring to breathe.
Finding a bug in their domain was a reputational disaster for the hotel.
All the more serious because of the particular identity involved.
Sarah, in charge of international affairs, rushed over the moment the two emerged, full of self-reproach: “Director Jin, I’m so sorry to have alarmed you! It was my oversight—”
“I don’t want this to happen again.” Secretary Jin kept walking, her voice cold and authoritative, “Sarah, stay here and cooperate with the hotel for a thorough investigation. And remember, lock down information. Don’t let the media get wind of this, understood?”
“Yes! Understood!” Sarah’s expression hardened, as if bracing for battle.
Secretary Jin accepted the wide-brimmed hat and sunglasses from Shangguan Qiuyas and put them on.
They concealed those eyes that were too clear.
Escorted by four bodyguards, she crossed the living room and headed for the private elevator.
Her anger at being violated, the helplessness of having to change terrain, and the restraint of a person in a high position—she performed all of it to the letter.
Impeccable.
Following behind, Shangguan Qiuyas watched her boss’s tense, elegant silhouette and couldn’t help a tiny twitch at the corner of her mouth.
She’d never realized before how Oscar-worthy Director Jin’s acting was. Not a bit inferior to that film actress!
Her mind drifted back three hours.
On the car ride from The Frick Collection back to the hotel.
Because Director Jin had just met President Tang at the reception, she’d visibly been in a good mood.
Shangguan Qiuyas had accordingly said a flattering remark.
Who would’ve thought Director Jin abruptly switched the topic and started talking about the past.
Three winters ago, Director Jin and Tina Spencer had been negotiating a royal-asset acquisition in London.
They’d been planted with a bug by a competitor, and inexperienced handling had stirred up a citywide scandal.
It was a dark chapter that had long gnawed at her career.
Shangguan Qiuyas assumed Director Jin wanted to use that history to admonish her.
Instead, Director Jin looked out the window and, as if casually, muttered:
“Shangguan, do you think it’s possible the room now has a bug? After all, the shareholders’ meeting is tomorrow.”
Before Shangguan Qiuyas could react, Director Jin had addded without missing a beat:
“If there is, for safety, I’ll be forced to move to another, more private suite.”
Suddenly she understood.
That was how the earlier dramatic security crisis was born.
The so-called bug was of course a prop she’d arranged someone to slip in.
To make it convincing, she’d even put one in the room of another European shareholder who had just checked in at The Plaza, Mr. Weber.
In short, she’d staged the whole thing.
Director Jin knew nothing about any of it.
She had just foreseen the risk.
Put another way, Shangguan Qiuyas was the mastermind who personally orchestrated and executed this commercial espionage.
Watching the elevator numbers change, Shangguan Qiuyas sighed inwardly.
My boss—if you two wanted to sleep together, you could just buy out the whole building and no one would say anything.
But you have to take this roundabout route and turn it into a Hollywood spy movie.
Is this some kind of unique taste?
Still, jokes aside.
She also knew very well that between Director Jin and President Tang there seemed to be an understanding and agreements outsiders couldn’t grasp.
They both carefully maintained some rules, some sense of sanctity.
As the absolute confidante, she needed to be sharp enough to clear every obstacle for Director Jin!
Even if that meant creating obstacles.
“Ding—”
The elevator stopped at the top floor.
Shangguan Qiuyas composed herself and resumed a solemn expression, “Director Jin, we’ve arrived.”
The four security personnel hurried forward and blocked the elevator doors, scanning their surroundings warily.
The top-floor corridor had been completely cleared;
only absolute silence and luxury remained.
“You can all go downstairs. No need to follow.” Secretary Jin instructed coolly, “This is safe.”
“But—” the head of security hesitated.
“Go.”
“Yes!”
They retreated into the elevator.
Shangguan Qiuyas handed over the briefcase and bowed deeply to Director Jin, her eyes carrying a “wish you well” smile.
The elevator doors slowly closed.
Only Secretary Jin remained in the corridor.
She didn’t hurry to move.
Instead she drew a deep breath.
As if to steady her heartbeat and build mental preparation for the upcoming meeting.
Even though they’d often stayed in the same room before, she knew this time would be different.
Because he was different.
After a few seconds she finally moved.
Her high heels stepped on the thick carpet without a sound.
Rounding the carved corner,
in front of a redwood door engraved with The T.J. Suite, a tall figure stood silently.
He wore a white shirt with two buttons undone, sleeves casually rolled up, revealing a slice of firm forearm.
Under the hallway’s soft wall lamps, he looked particularly handsome and upright.
Hearing the movement, he looked up.
His gaze crossed several meters and fixed directly on her.
Secretary Jin paused mid-step.
Even through sunglasses she could sense the warmth of that look, like a hearth in winter.
“Director Jin, are you alright?” Tang Song asked first, his voice threaded with concern.
“I’m fine.” Secretary Jin removed her sunglasses, maintaining restraint and formality, “President Tang, this suite was purchased in the name of the family. I’ve stayed here occasionally before, so there are spare clothes and personal items in the wardrobe. In the rush, this was the most suitable place, don’t you think?”
Tang Song looked at her.
Though her face said business as usual, her eyes clearly sparkled with mischief and pride.
Like a little girl who’d done something naughty and now awaited praise.
So charming!
“You’re right, that’s perfectly reasonable.” Tang Song cooperatively nodded, sincere in tone, “The corridor isn’t safe either. Let’s go inside and talk.”
He reached out his hand.
Secretary Jin was momentarily stunned, glancing at the outstretched hand.
Long, slender fingers, distinct knuckles, visible lines.
Over the years, they had never truly held hands.
Even handing over files or a glass of water, their fingers touched only with restraint and brevity,
like two parallel lines approaching each other but maintaining a delicate distance.
She extended her hand, placing her slightly cool fingertips into his palm.
His fingers tightened instantly, enclosing her hand firmly.
The pressure that wouldn’t allow escape made her heart skip a beat.
Secretary Jin lowered her head slightly, using the wide brim of her hat to hide a faint flush on her face.
The heavy door slammed shut behind them.
......
[The T.J. Suite]
With the click of the lock, the room fell into silence.
“Now it’s safe, Ms. Smile.”
Tang Song’s voice was gentle, laced with an intimate teasing only they shared.
“Thank you, President Tang.”
Secretary Jin took off the wide-brimmed hat.
A strand of hair that had been pinned up fell across her cheek.
She lowered her lashes;
long lashes fanned like fans.
She gave off the bearing of someone used to high position, yet also showed a weariness and languor that came from dropping her guard.
That contrast was intoxicating.
Tang Song took her crocodile leather briefcase and set it on the console by the entryway.
He didn’t immediately move away. Instead he reached out, coaxed that errant lock of hair behind her ear,
his hand sliding down to rest warmly on her shoulder.
“I’ll hang your coat.”
She turned obediently and lifted her arm.
Tang Song stood behind her, admiring the slender curve of her back, a smile deep in his eyes.
He had to admit: Secretary Jin had truly captured his heart.
At the exhibition he’d only hinted at some boundary rules;
she had understood instantly and handed him this gift.
Manufacture a security crisis, be forced to relocate, end up sharing a room...
Her actions were reasonable, even natural.
This wasn’t just tacit understanding;
it was their private play.
“Whoosh—” the heavy coat slipped off her shoulders.
Secretary Jin smoothed her hair and revealed the view beneath the coat.
She wore a high-fashion silk gown in a muted taro purple.
Such a low-saturation color is difficult to pull off, yet on her it perfectly highlighted the translucence of her skin.
The silk clung like flowing water and, with each breath, traced the perfection of waist and hip.
The back featured a bold cutout design that hinted at elegant shoulder blades and emitted a refined sensuality.
Tang Song’s Adam’s apple dipped involuntarily.
Sensing his gaze, she turned and casually slipped into soft house slippers.
“I’ll sleep in the bedroom downstairs tonight. My clothes are there.” She looked up, eyes clear. “By the way, President Tang, are you sleepy now?”
“No.” Tang Song shook his head, his gaze never leaving her. “I have plenty of energy.”
Thanks to the male-god halo, even with only four or five hours of sleep, he stayed energized and in form.
Jet lag was not an issue.
“That’s good.” Secretary Jin picked up the briefcase again, all business, “I didn’t want to disturb your rest. But since the emergency forced us to stay together, I thought… we can use this time to thoroughly discuss strategic deployment for tomorrow’s shareholders’ meeting. What do you think?”
“Agreed.”
“Shall we go upstairs?”
“Please.”
Secretary Jin smiled faintly, turned, and walked toward the deep-red spiral staircase.
Tang Song deliberately lagged two steps behind.
From that angle, her graceful back was on full display.
As she climbed, the silk hem swayed gently, her waist swaying with each step, the hip line full and smooth.
The taro purple looked particularly tender against the dark staircase.
A faint fragrance trailed her, reaching the nose and intoxicating.
Second floor, the domed library.
It was the quietest, most bookish part of the apartment.
Three walls were floor-to-ceiling mahogany bookshelves filled with precious volumes.
They approached a wide wooden desk.
Secretary Jin instinctively stopped and half-turned to let Tang Song sit first.
It was a habit etched into her bones.
But she quickly caught herself and a cunning smile tugged at her mouth as she circled the desk and settled into the chief’s leather chair in the main seat.
She lifted her chin slightly and regarded Tang Song, “President Tang, if you don’t mind, you can sit on the sofa beside me. Or, stand behind me?”
In the past, Tang Song would always sit there while she, the ‘secretary,’ stood beside him.
It was an unspoken rule and also a symbol of his authority.
Now that he was playing role-play, she would exercise her executive-chair privilege.
“All right, Director Jin.”
Tang Song smiled and came to stand directly behind her.
Secretary Jin fell silent and opened her folder, laying out confidential documents.
Tang Song leaned slightly over the chair, looking down at her sitting upright.
From this elevated vantage, his sight slid into the generous opening of her collar.
That full, jade-white curve, set off by taro silk, emitted a dizzying soft glow.
A blend of nobility, intellect, tenderness, and carnal allure.
It left Tang Song mouth-dry.
“President Tang, regarding next fiscal year’s global asset allocation strategy…” Secretary Jin’s voice stayed calm and professional, as if unaware of the breathing behind her heating up.
“Mhm, go on.”
Tang Song collected himself and forced his eyes to the files, earnestly playing the role of shareholder representative.
But he secretly savored the moment.
Vivid memories from late 2020 returned.
Back then, he’d joined Meigou Technology as an intern.
Officially a systems developer, he'd often use “meeting needs” as a pretext to swipe into the top-floor offices.
In the chairman’s office, the woman who was usually Director Jin became Secretary Jin.
Before his arrival, she would quietly lower the office temperature to keep him comfortable;
place his coffee cup where he preferred it, at just the right warmth;
stand behind him to flip papers or explain industry logic.
She remembered every preference he’d casually mentioned and even swapped stockings on different days—different colors or thicknesses—so he’d glance twice.
Her attentiveness was discreet, precise, and unparalleled.
Her ability, emotional intelligence, and insight were top-tier.
Compared to her, assistants Luna and Yuyan had seemed painfully immature.
“…the reshaping of the ESG scoring system and our pricing power battle in the carbon-trading market…”
Her voice flowed at his ear and tethered him back to the present.
When thinking, she habitually knit her brow.
Mentioning a crucial point, she would glance to see if he listened.
Those silent confirmations, wordless communications—just like before.
Tang Song’s breath steadied.
Memory and reality began to merge.
This was his Secretary Jin.
Vivid, flawless, impeccable.
“So our strategy is…” Secretary Jin smoothed a strand of hair and picked up a pen.
She tilted her head slightly to avoid Tang Song’s sight but exposed the pale curve of her neck to the air.
Slender, fragile, yet radiating lethal seduction.
“All right, Director Jin.”
Tang Song bent his head;
his lips were nearly brushing her skin, close to the smooth side of her neck.
Warm breath blew against her artery.
“Plop—”
Her hand trembled and the pen fell onto the desk, rolling twice.
A fine tremor rose visibly across her fair skin.
“President Tang, what are you doing?” Secretary Jin looked up with feigned puzzlement.
“Nothing.”
His warm breath accompanied the words, fanning her throbbing artery.
……
Neither moved;
the air grew charged.
At that moment,
“Vrrr—vrrr—”
Tang Song’s phone vibrating at the corner of the desk broke the silence.
[Ouyang Xianyue]
Secretary Jin glanced at the screen, pressed her color-bright lips together, and wordlessly rose to tidy the scattered documents with quick, efficient motions.
Tang Song took his phone and retreated to the shadow by the window to answer.
“Hello, Ouyang.”
“Tang Song.” Ouyang Xianyue’s voice was bright and smooth with a touch of husk, “Sorry to bother you at this hour. Judging by the time, you’re probably still awake.”
“No, I’m still handling some documents.” Tang Song replied softly, in even tones.
“That’s good.” Ouyang Xianyue paused slightly, a smile threaded through her words, “How was your first time attending a Wall Street reception? Getting used to it?”
Tang Song understood immediately;
the society matron was reminding and probing him.
“Not bad. I expect more of these occasions in the future. Good to get used to them.”
“Good. Also, beating jet lag is tough and New York’s deep winter now—keep warm…”
Ouyang Xianyue’s caring whispered on topics from clothes to personal safety, composed and considerate.
If not for the tense moment, Tang Song might have felt warm.
Now he felt prickling unease.
He cleared his throat, “No need to worry. I’m in good shape. Tomorrow is Smile Holdings’ shareholders’ meeting;
once prep is done, I’ll sleep.”
“All right.” Ouyang Xianyue seemed to detect something in his tone and shifted, “By the way, I just learned there’s been a lot of big news about Tang Jin on Wall Street. I’m embarrassed as the advisory committee chair that I didn’t synchronize this with you sooner.”
Tang Song’s eyelid twitched, “It happened suddenly. But much of it is over-interpretation of the reception by Wall Street, and some of it was a deliberate smokescreen we released. For the bigger picture, some scenes must be acted out.”
“I see. Then I’ll rest easy.” Amusement laced Ouyang Xianyue’s laugh over the line. “By the way, I’ve been practicing cursive script and have made real progress—my mind is calmer. When you come to Shen City, we’ll discuss in depth. Good night, Mr. Tang.”
“Good night.”
He hung up.
Staring at his dark screen, Tang Song exhaled softly.
He felt the battlefield’s danger even across the ocean.
If they’d been face to face, he didn’t know how he’d defuse it.
He turned back.
The big desk was empty.
Secretary Jin had moved to the bookshelves on the other side without him noticing.
She leaned against the heavy mahogany shelves, holding a book and reading quietly.
The lamp cast warm light, giving her taro silk gown a hazy golden edge.
She looked like a Renaissance oil painting—calm, deep, beautiful.
Yet she radiated a frosty nobility that kept people at a distance.
Tang Song sensed a silent protest.
With another girlfriend he could simply hug or kiss to solve it.
But with Secretary Jin, mere physical consolation would feel frivolous and wouldn’t soothe her deeper waves.
He stepped lightly and approached.
She still looked down at the book, seemingly oblivious to his arrival, immersed in her own world and unconcerned with his call with Ouyang Xianyue.
“What are you reading?” he asked softly, breaking the silence.
Secretary Jin didn’t reply or look up.
Elegantly, she raised the book to reveal the cover.
It wasn’t a business tome or abstruse philosophy.
It was an aesthetically inclined classic—Italo Calvino’s Invisible Cities.
He didn’t disturb her further;
instead he stood beside her and leaned his back against the mahogany shelf as well.
They shared the same warm pool of lamp light.
Words flowed slowly on the pages.
Tang Song followed her line of sight and read along about nonexistent cities.
The silence was like sinking underwater.
Only the rustle of pages under fingertips broke the stillness.
Time slipped by unnoticed.
Tang Song’s gaze drifted down to her hand.
Long and rounded, fingertips flushed with delicate rose.
Against the yellowed book pages they looked impeccably pure and fragile.
His eyes traveled up.
Past her white wrist, along the smooth line of her arm, and rested on her profile.
The warm lamp painted her flawless contours.
A refined, high-bridged nose, long lashes casting faint shadows, clean jawline, and lips that were perfectly tinted and slightly pursed.
She was perfect—like a carefully color-graded film still.
Intellectual, elegant, spirited, yet carrying an unattainable ascetic aura.
Like the rarest book in this library: fascinating, untouchable.
Secretary Jin paused mid-page.
She turned slowly and met Tang Song’s deep, clear eyes without evasion.
“President Tang, don’t you read?”
Her voice was soft and the trailing tone lifted, calming the air.
Tang Song fixed on her and answered in a low, honest voice, “Secretary Jin, you always throw me off and I can’t do anything properly.”
……
Secretary Jin pressed her lips together, suppressing the curve of a smile.
Then she slightly rolled her eyes—not in annoyance but as a small, exquisitely beautiful expression.
She couldn’t hold it;
a soft laugh escaped.
When she lifted her head, her eyes shone like starlight.
She seemed suddenly vivid and radiant.
[Secretary Jin smiling count: 3/10]
Enchanted by that beauty, Tang Song inhaled and leaned in, closing the distance.
Male warmth surrounding her, intensely intrusive.
Secretary Jin leaned against the bookshelf with no retreat.
She watched his handsome face draw nearer.
Her lashes trembled, a few loose strands veil her cheek and swayed with each shared breath—
each sway teasing Tang Song’s taut nerves.
Five centimeters.
Three centimeters.
One centimeter.
Just as their noses were about to meet and breaths blend completely—
“Slap—”
Secretary Jin lifted the book between them.
The book’s spine separated their lips but couldn’t hide the two pairs of eyes staring.
Through the book she looked into his eyes.
The smile faded from her gaze;
she became calm, lucid, almost appraising.
“Tang Song.”
“Mhm?”
“Is the you now the real you?”
Tang Song pressed his lips thinly and then relaxed them, “Yes.”
Secretary Jin was silent for a few seconds, then continued, “You promised this meeting would give me the answer. So I’ll ask again. What does my existence mean to you? Why… did you choose me in the first place?”
Their eyes locked.
Seeing those clear, spirited eyes, Tang Song’s heart tightened.
Although he didn’t find a memory of Secretary Jin asking this before in what he’d recovered,
he understood the meaning.
Many of his secrets couldn’t be hidden from her.
She was the person closest to him.
His seer-before-he-knew-it, the one who accepted his talent-obsessed selections, the one versed in subjects he’d never taught her…
With her intelligence, she probably deduced his nonhuman abilities years ago.
And the reason she’d been so magnanimous, selfless, even blindly loyal and watchful for him,
largely came from the inexplicable dream miracle in 2016.
That cross-time romance and connection.
Like they had been chosen.
Like fate.
It was her true obsession and anxiety:
Am I special?
Or just a random lucky person?
Tang Song inhaled, met her eyes, and slowly said, “Because, in my eyes, you are the most perfect woman in the world. The most perfect incarnation of all my fantasies.”
“So I want you. Whether in dreams or in reality.”
“It has to be you.”
Secretary Jin’s pupils widened sharply.
Silence.
Deep, utter silence.
Invisible Cities slipped from her hands.
Not pushed away, but gently set down.
Thud. The book hit the floor with a heavy sound.
Secretary Jin rose onto her toes and leaned toward him.
Her lips bore a faint coral sheen and parted slightly.
Moist, clean, bright like petals kissed by spring light.
Tang Song’s breath halted.
He lifted a hand to steady her flexible, lively waist, the other resting at her graceful neck, feeling the rapid pulse beneath.
Tender, warm, wild.
Only a breath’s thickness remained between their lips.
They closed.
No testing, no hesitation.
Tang Song lowered his head and captured those lips that haunted his dreams.
Soft, but astonishingly hot.
Secretary Jin shut her eyes and gripped the fabric at his waist with both hands.
Beside the bookshelf, under the lamp.
Two silhouettes overlapped on the wall.