“The board meeting is tomorrow morning. They’ll have some say in who takes Liu Baiyan’s place, but it’ll ultimately be Bai Xue’s decision. It wouldn’t surprise me if he tried getting information from you before he made that decision.”

“Information about Xingyu, or information about the company?”

“He knows about the company. It’s Xingyu who’s the wild card.”

“How much do you want me to tell him?”

“Tell him as much as you like, Xiaokai. You know what you do is out of my hands as soon as your appointments start.” She folded her hands together in front of her, which was a self-protective move if Xiaokai’s ever seen one, and added, “If what you want is to ensure Xingyu never gets that position…that is your choice. But you should know that it won’t go to you. It will go to me, or it will go to someone on the board.”

Something was around Xiaokai’s chest, around his neck, around his lungs—constricting him, constricting his breathing. He tried to steady his heart, but the urge to reach up and undo his tie and the top button of his shirt was overwhelming him.

“It has nothing to do with your character. It will all make sense soon, Xiaokai, but…”

“But?” His voice had a strange rasp to it. His hands twitched toward his tie, but he forced them back down. “But I have to wait until after the meeting, is that it?”

“The kind of knowledge I need to give to you is something that will affect your appointment. If you know, Bai Xue will know that you know. If you choose to use the knowledge that you won’t inherit the company to your advantage, that is your choice as well.”

An hour and a half later, Xiaokai was sitting in his hotel room and waiting for Bai Xue.

He wasn’t sure if he’d completely processed everything Sun Yue had told him—even the fact that she’d told him anything at all was difficult to process, frankly, and all of this combined with the fact that it was Bai Xue was not doing any wonders for Xiaokai’s thinking capacity.

He hadn’t been this muddled in a long time. Hell, he was certain he’d been much clearer while Bai Xue was still holding him captive.

It wasn’t as if he was a stranger to pretending he was okay. It was one of the first lessons Sun Yue taught him, and also one of the first lessons he’d failed so miserably. You have to be a perfect doll, just like Sun Yue. Smile even when you’re upset. Smile even when you’re hurt. If you hate them—if you want to tear them apart with your teeth—smile like they’re the one you’ve been waiting for your entire life.