There are moments in a man’s life when he knows chaos is coming. For me, that moment was when I walked into the café for a serious client meeting… and saw my wife already seated at my table, sipping an overpriced drink with a mischievous smile.
“What are you doing here?” I asked cautiously.
“I came to support my hardworking husband,” she said sweetly. “And maybe sabotage any female client who flirts with you.”
I blinked. “You do realize this meeting is with Mr. Zhou, right?”
“Even worse. Rich and powerful? Definitely dangerous.”
I sighed and pulled out a chair. “Just sit quietly and don’t—”
“I brought cue cards,” she said, patting her bag.
“…Why?”
“Dramatic emphasis.”
—
Mr. Zhou arrived promptly, all business. He barely glanced at her, which should’ve been a relief. But no—she didn’t like being ignored.
“So, Mr. Zhou,” she said before I could open the presentation, “have you ever been married?”
He looked surprised. “Uh, yes. Why?”
“Ever caught your wife putting chili powder in your tea because you liked your assistant’s perfume a little too much?”
“…No?”
She leaned forward. “Would you like to?”
I cleared my throat so hard I nearly swallowed my tongue.
“Sorry,” I laughed nervously, “she’s just kidding. This is my wife—”
“Temporary co-CEO of Shen Xing Enterprises,” she corrected.
“She’s not,” I added quickly.
—
Somehow, the meeting continued. I presented, he listened. She doodled on napkins and “accidentally” sneezed every time Mr. Zhou looked at me for more than five seconds.
She even offered to “refill his drink” and then brought him sparkling water with a spoonful of salt.
Mr. Zhou took one sip and coughed.
“Electrolytes,” she said proudly. “I read it’s good for stress.”
He smiled awkwardly. “Right. Very… innovative.”
By the end of the hour, I had managed to salvage most of the deal. Barely.
Mr. Zhou shook my hand and said, “Your wife… certainly brings a lot of energy to the table.”
“She’s passionate,” I said.
“She’s possessive,” she corrected, linking her arm with mine.
—
After he left, I turned to her slowly.
“Why?” I asked.
She looked up innocently. “I was just protecting my investment.”
“I’m the investment?”
“Of course. And you’re a high-risk asset surrounded by temptation and boring suits.”
I sighed. “You know that was a serious deal, right?”
She leaned in, grinning. “And he’ll remember you forever because of me. That’s branding.”
I couldn’t argue.
Mostly because I was too tired.
Also because she was now drawing hearts on my notebook with a pink pen.
—
Later that night, she hugged me from behind while I typed a follow-up email.
“You’re not mad?” she whispered.
“I should be.”
“But you’re not.”
I sighed. “You’re ridiculous. Unpredictable. Possibly a little dangerous.”
She smiled against my back. “And yet, you married me.”
“I must’ve been drugged.”
She giggled. “Too late now, Shen Xing. I own 51% of your soul.”
—
To be continued…
