C10 Chapter 10

Hee Yu had no intention of satisfying their “curiosity.” She fought to shut out all the noise and chaos behind the door.

But then, out of nowhere, a hand reached in—and the reporters’ clamor vanished as if someone had hit mute.

Hee Yu froze for a beat. As she loosened her grip, she realized the person standing outside was Yan Jin. The swarm of reporters was already gone.

All the coldness drained from her face. Leaning against the doorframe, she flashed a sultry smile. “Yan Jin, are you here to play the hero and save the damsel?”

Yan Jin flicked his gaze over her, expression calm as he stepped into the suite. “Wrong guess.”

Right behind him, a bodyguard rolled in a room-service cart. After setting breakfast on the dining table, he bowed and left.

The spread was huge and beautifully plated—so delicate it looked like each portion was meant to be eaten in a single bite.

Yan Jin sat down at the table. Just as Hee Yu was wondering why someone like him was treating her so well, Yan Jin seemed to read her thoughts and said coolly, “This is my breakfast. You can go downstairs and eat at the buffet.”

Hee Yu pouted, unimpressed, but she still turned obediently to head downstairs.

If the buffet on the first floor could fill her up, why bother forcing herself into this?

Too bad she’d barely turned around when the crisp clink of fork against plate sounded behind her.

“This breakfast is terrible. Come clean it up—don’t waste it.” Yan Jin’s flat voice cut through the room, edged with casual irritation. Clearly, her attitude hadn’t pleased him.

Hee Yu shrugged. When it came to food, she really wasn’t picky.

When you’ve been hungry before, food only means one thing: filling your stomach.

Besides, this was a table full of breakfast that looked, smelled, and tasted incredible—clearly the work of a top-tier chef.

Even setting aside the pastries, the sweet, chewy rice balls dusted with coconut were enough to lift her mood for no reason at all. And when she bit into one—thin skin, generous filling—and the rich syrup flooded her mouth, a wave of happiness hit her all at once.

Hee Yu couldn’t help narrowing her eyes. Now *this* was what you called living.

Yan Jin was sitting right beside her, ignoring the spread of food in front of him and focusing completely on his tablet. Hee Yu picked up the last soup dumpling left on the plate and held it up to Yan Jin’s mouth.

Right then, three crisp knocks sounded at the door.

“Come in,” Yan Jin replied without looking up, and casually took a bite of the dumpling.

The assistant stepped into the suite in her usual composed manner—only to get blindsided by a full-on PDA moment. She nearly dropped the thick stack of documents in her hands.

Everyone knew Director Yan was famous for keeping women at arm’s length. For her to hold onto the executive assistant job, she’d worked herself to the bone—practically to the point of having to pretend she didn’t even like men.

If the women who were always trying to chat her up and use her as a connection saw this, they’d be furious enough to spit blood.

Yan Jin didn’t notice his assistant’s strange expression at all. He glanced at Hee Yu—right hand holding the dumpling, left hand holding the small plate, both practically pressed to his lips—then gave a cold snort.

Hee Yu pressed her lips together. So this was what people meant by biting the hand that feeds you.

She’d been trying to thank him for “blessing” her with such an over-the-top breakfast, and he still had the nerve to complain?

Feeling a little foolish, Hee Yu set the dumpling back on the plate, about to shove it aside and move on to the rest of the food, when Yan Jin spoke again.

As he said that, Yan Jin cleared his throat like he was making a point. “I don’t like wasting food.”

The assistant, who had just set the documents down, stumbled and nearly fell.

*Doesn’t like wasting food?* So the guy who’d ordered an entire table of dishes with a client a few days ago—and then told the staff to dump it all in the trash—wasn’t him? She’d been with Yan Jin for three full years. Since when did he have morals like that?

Whether Yan Jin noticed anything off about his assistant or not, Hee Yu—sitting right across from her—saw it plain as day.

Hee Yu shot a glare at the Yan Family’s eldest son, who was getting more unpredictable by the minute. She picked up a soup dumpling from her plate, stuffed the whole thing into her mouth, and didn’t waste a drop of the broth pooling in the dish—tilting her head back to drink it down in one go.

There. Clean enough for you? Not wasting anything now, am I?

Hee Yu’s eyes went wide. Whether it was because her mouth was too full or because she was fuming, her cheeks puffed out like a bullfrog.

The assistant looked at Hee Yu like she was seeing fireworks.

What woman didn’t think twice when she ran into Director Yan? The assistant had never seen anyone with the nerve to treat him like this.

“Anything else?” The tapping at the keyboard stopped abruptly, and Yan Jin’s stiff, icy voice followed.

The assistant snapped her gaze back, straightened up, and bowed with both hands held neatly in front of her. “Oh! No—nothing. I’ll head out!” Years of high-pressure training saved her reflexes; otherwise, the assistant position would’ve been up for grabs again.