After the boss finished speaking, he left. Yu Siba silently grumbled in his mind but didn’t pay it much attention, continuing to work on his designs.
He couldn’t really leave the work for tomorrow. What if the client got excited and asked for the drawings first thing in the morning? What if the boss decided to be unpredictable and demanded his plans in the middle of the night? Was he supposed to dash to Ji Wenze’s house to shield him from a metaphorical bullet?
He could send it tomorrow morning, but he absolutely couldn’t be without it in hand.
The only downside—he couldn’t draw the small exhibition stand today. His equipment at home still wasn’t as convenient as the tools at the office.
Execut2’s limited-edition merch… urgent, urgent, urgent.
Finishing methodically, Yu Siba didn’t linger. He switched off the lights, locked the door, and noticed it was just two minutes before 9:30.
Once the lights in Group One went out, the office diagonally across—Group Two—looked particularly bright. Yu Siba peeked subtly and saw the three young designers from their team working late, while Qian Chong and the older staff had long gone.
Qian Yuanxin’s policy of not paying overtime applied not just to Group One—Group Two wasn’t spared either. But his nephew Qian Chong rarely worked overtime, so the ones missing out were mostly the junior designers.
…Such a mess.
Yu Siba pursed his lips, sighed silently, and turned to leave.
At night, the building only ran the four elevators on the far east side near the main entrance, conveniently along his route. Head down, he trudged toward it and clocked out with a beep.
[21:00:01]
Perfect hands for esports!
A corner of Yu Siba’s lips curved; his mood lightened slightly. He pocketed his phone and, ready to stride out, suddenly froze, stepping back instinctively.
In the reception area at the main entrance, the ever-persistent boss stood there. Leaning against the sofa with his back to the clock, his trench coat blended almost seamlessly with the dark fabric, making him look like the sofa had come alive if you weren’t paying attention.
The good news—he was on a call, saying “Mm, okay” occasionally, seemingly oblivious to the clock’s beep. For now, he hadn’t noticed.
Yu Siba’s eyes flicked, and he took a deep breath, summoning the calm of someone playing a horror game, planning a route that would bypass the “boss” and head straight for the elevators.
Then, headphones on, he buried his head and moved forward.
The closest point to the boss was less than three meters. Yu Siba kept his gaze down, tiptoeing lightly, barely breathing.
One step, two steps, three steps, four…
His feet moved, but his upper body suddenly lagged. A hand grabbed the back of his collar.
…Holy crap, a ghost.
Yu Siba tried to play deaf and dumb, moving forward. The hand chuckled lightly and, without much effort, pulled him off the escape path.
Dead.
His eyelids drooped, and he muttered in a numb, lazy voice: “Boss, I’m off…”
As if answering, the collar tightened again. Yu Siba lifted his eyes, half-dead, questioning, and saw Ji Wenze smiling, phone to his ear, left hand holding Yu Siba’s collar like a claw machine, guiding him to the sofa.
Once seated, Ji Wenze’s index finger touched his lips, signaling him to stay quiet. He smiled, eyes curved, his watch gleaming under the spotlight, giving him, for a moment, the aura of an elegant yet psychotic killer.
Yu Siba realized for the first time—these sofas are hot. He twisted slightly, and Ji Wenze glanced over. Seeing him fidget, he tilted his chin toward a stack of sticky notes on the table.
Yu Siba understood, leaned forward, slid a note and a pen toward him.
Ji Wenze smiled, capping the pen with one hand, then switched it to the right hand to write.
Yu Siba noticed the left-hand grip had been elegant too—like someone genuinely capable of writing left-handed.
There’s an old saying: left-handers are smart. Yu Siba agreed—after all, his idol Execut2 is left-handed.
Ji Wenze, however… didn’t have that same vibe.
Yu Siba mumbled internally, and Ji Wenze pushed the note toward him after finishing:
[Wait a moment]
His handwriting was graceful, but it wasn’t what Yu Siba wanted to read.
Yu Siba quickly snatched the pen:
[I didn’t drive today]
So no ride—let me go quickly.
“…Send me the report again,” Ji Wenze murmured into his phone. When he noticed the note, he pursed his lips and erased the middle part [didn’t drive today], leaving:
[I drove]
Yu Siba rubbed his eyes.
…What does this mean?
Sharing a ride home?
If this wasn’t the big boss, he might have felt a bit of novelty. Most of his colleagues used the subway; ride-sharing was common. Yu Siba, driving himself, had never joined.
This… felt like middle school, walking home together after class.
He blinked, quickly discarding the thought—this wasn’t a classmate. It was a homeroom teacher waiting on the way home.
Sighing, Yu Siba’s gaze swept the clock. Shouldn’t have clocked out… What if Ji Wenze spends half an hour on the phone here? That’d cut my overtime by half an hour.
Looking up, Yu Siba leaned closer to eavesdrop, but Ji Wenze immediately moved two steps away.
Yu Siba: …Clearly, I’m no spy.
He returned to his phone, leaning subtly against the sofa arm—looks upright, mostly slouched.
A new post on Weibo from Valorant’s official account: Vote for the player you most want to see at the Carnival!
Yu Siba checked it—Execut2 wasn’t listed. He was about to protest, then realized:
[@JStation Respit2: Why isn’t Execut2 listed? Already confirmed attending?]
ICG players were all confirmed, so missing Execut2 must mean he’s a sure thing too.
True, the carnival was still half a year away—plenty of time to schedule a day.
Yu Siba smiled, scrolling, voting for a familiar name: Collapsar. The first all-Chinese team champion, retired for years… not confirmed?
He was still wondering when a tap on his shoulder interrupted him.
Ji Wenze, previously on the sofa side taking a call, had somehow ghosted behind him.
His eyes glanced at Yu Siba’s phone, then away, smiling:
“Not trying to look… Is this your favorite esports player now?”
When he said “esports player,” it sounded unfamiliar, like an old-school adult trying to catch up. Paired with his serious face, it was slightly surreal.
Yu Siba, clearly in a rush, pocketed his phone: “That has nothing to do with work.”
Ji Wenze smirked.
“No car?” he asked casually. Yu Siba nodded. “Then come with me. I’ll take you to the subway.”
He knew Yu Siba kept to himself—he had seen it on the livestream. Yu Siba didn’t even hesitate, following quietly.
Yu Siba noticed the boss was smiling, stationary, studying him closely. Alarm bells went off.
Not good. This guy has a long record… he isn’t bluffing, is he?
Yu Siba planted his feet.
“Mr. Ji, if you have something to say, just say it here.”
Ji Wenze didn’t seem offended, smiling freely:
“A collaborator sent a gift, one of their new… cultural products,” he said awkwardly. “I remember you were interested.”
He scrolled on his phone.
Yu Siba frowned: “I’m not interested in cultural—”
Ji Wenze showed him a photo.
Yu Siba gasped—this wasn’t a cultural product. It was the limited-edition merch he’d seen at the carnival booth, only as concept images before.
The full set. Including Execut2’s.
“Looks like paper and tin… if you’re not interested, I’ll have Assistant Yang discard it—”
“I want it!”
Yu Siba shouted, forgetting his professional persona, sounding just like his livestream self.
“On my car. Let’s go?” Ji Wenze asked, smiling, adding: “We can also talk about Lu Jinren.”
Yu Siba didn’t care about Lu Jinren. “We can talk about Qian Yuanxin instead.”
His eyes sparkled again. Ji Wenze reached to smooth his collar—previously ruffled when he pulled him up.
Yu Siba understood immediately—limited-edition merch first, boss etiquette later.
“I got it!” he said, adjusting it himself with a smile.
Ji Wenze’s gaze flickered; he touched his cheek and smiled.
“Yu, you have dimples.”