Xie Yama's Secret Love Notes

On her twenty-eighth birthday, Jiang Manlin was laid off. HR pushed the separation agreement in front of her - six years of youth, converted into a number accurate to the single digit. She didn't cry, she just picked up a pen and wrote two words in her notebook: Zhilan. She used a bottle of oriental plant fragrance to blaze a trail in the beauty industry filled with giants. Until I bumped into Xie Chengyu. Founder of Mingjing Group, Harvard MBA, with a net worth of tens of billions. The industry calls him "Xie Yan Wang" - cold-faced and taciturn, never letting anyone get close to him. Except for her. She thought he was a business enemy. But every time her supplier was intercepted, a new channel came forward the next day; every time a competing product disappeared, it took her three months to find out that he was behind it; there was always an empty seat in the last row of every press conference. He never said anything. Until Paris Fashion Week, his mother, a painter, held the first bottle of perfume she made and said the French sentence - Marée Douce. Gentle tide. At that moment she suddenly understood: the Maybach on those rainy nights, the handwritten supplier list, the word "" carved on the carpentry table for two years - it was not perfume. It's what he likes.