…Crap. Don’t tell me I’m really about to get laid off with an n+1.
Yu Sibai kept a blank face and lowered his eyes, running through countless versions of himself packing up and leaving today. In the end, with a “whatever happens, happens” attitude, he said stiffly:
“No one informed me.”
Across from him, Ji Wenze stood by the table picking out coffee, still wearing that gentle, smiling expression. Hearing this, he replied lightly, “Mm, I know.”
…?
Yu Sibai choked on his breath, fists clenching.
You know? Then why the hell are you scaring me?!
“So I came to invite you in person—” Ji Wenze finished leisurely, picking up a sachet of instant coffee and turning to look at him.
The young man before him suddenly widened his cool, lazy eyes, the corners softening downward in an almost docile way. For a brief moment, even that “keep strangers away” aura around him dissolved.
“Just kidding.” The corner of Ji Wenze’s lips lifted as he blinked. “Group Leader Yu, relax.”
The break room fell into dead silence, broken only by the soft rustle of coffee granules pouring into a disposable cup.
…Good thing I’m not ambitious. Otherwise these emotional ups and downs alone would kill me.
Yu Sibai ground his teeth. The killing intent leaked out for half a second before he suppressed it again.
Forget it. This month’s humiliation allowance hasn’t been paid yet.
He spoke calmly, “Does President Ji need something?” If not, please leave.
“I didn’t, but now I suddenly do—” Ji Wenze smiled faintly, his gaze slowly sweeping over him. Just as Yu Sibai began to suspect this man might be sizing him up to sell by weight, Ji Wenze spoke again with a smile.
“Don’t be nervous. I just wanted to ask if you’re free to meet a client with me tonight.”
Without hesitation, Yu Sibai replied, “Sorry, President Ji. I have to work overtime tonight.” After that, he still had to catch up on today’s finals commentary—he was busy!
Secretary Zhao, who had been silent, jumped in: “That’s right, Group Leader Yu is always busy. President Qian never brings him to social events. How about letting Group Leader Qian Chong from Team Two accompany you? He’s sociable, can hold his liquor, and anyway they’re both group leaders…”
Ji Wenze let out a soft chuckle, watching the water level rise in his cup. “Since they’re both surnamed Qian, why don’t you go tell Qian Yuanxin to accompany me personally?”
“Ah—n-no, no…” Secretary Zhao swallowed nervously and forced a smile. “I spoke out of turn.”
Qian Yuanxin had told him to be smart and recommend Qian Chong more, but for this salary, was he supposed to risk his life?
Besides, the difference in how President Ji spoke to him versus Group Leader Yu was way too obvious.
Realizing he’d annoyed someone, Secretary Zhao quickly grabbed another paper cup and stepped forward attentively. “President Ji, careful, it’s hot. Let me—”
“No need.” Ji Wenze opened a carton of milk, poured most of it into the cup, then handed the rest to Zhao. “Go do your work. Let Group Leader Yu show me around.”
Zhao froze, clutching the milk carton, his gaze landing on Yu Sibai, who was just about to slip away.
Yu Sibai’s feet seemed glued to the floor.
Me again?
Did I say anything?
He turned his head to look at the new boss who was lying through his teeth. The man raised an eyebrow and followed behind him with his cup.
“Let’s go, Group Leader Yu.”
Yu Sibai pressed his lips together.
He’d scared a bunch of colleagues away when he entered the break room, and now he came out with a big boss trailing behind him.
Keeping a straight face, he walked down the corridor, mechanically reading each nameplate they passed.
“Reception room.”
“Building materials display room.”
He was trying to bore Ji Wenze into giving up, but when he glanced back, the man was still holding his milky coffee, smiling quietly without saying a word.
…Weird guy.
Then, noticing that face—somewhat resembling his idol—he revised his judgment.
A good-looking weird guy.
Yu Sibai withdrew his gaze and kept walking.
The view suddenly opened up. The wall on the right became a row of frosted floor-to-ceiling windows—clearly a well-lit room.
There was a sign on the glass.
“Design Team One Office,” Yu Sibai said.
The glass door was half open. The moment he spoke, the people inside lifted their heads one by one like sunflowers turning toward the sun.
Ji Wenze took a sip of coffee—somehow even instant coffee in a paper cup tasted like premium Blue Mountain in his hands.
He glanced at the “sunflowers” inside, then suddenly spoke in a low voice only the two of them could hear.
“Group Leader Yu, do you want to be the Design Director?”
Yu Sibai almost rolled his eyes.
That position had been vacant for a year. Anyone with eyes knew it was being saved for Qian Yuanxin to let Qian Chong accumulate enough seniority. Taking it now would be like being pushed straight into the fire.
Leaning against the glass door, Yu Sibai clearly had no intention of moving on. “Not interested for now.”
“No ambition.” Ji Wenze smiled. “Then don’t your team members want a promotion?”
Yu Sibai gave him a long look, then turned and scanned the room before calling over a tall “sunflower.”
“Xiangri, want to be group leader?”
The designer Gao Xiangri twitched his lips. “I have to pick up my daughter from kindergarten on time every day.”
Yu Sibai nodded, then looked at a pink-haired woman with big curls nearest the door. “Tianjiao, do you want to be group leader?”
Wu Tianjiao didn’t even look up from her screen. “Handle your own business.”
Yu Sibai scanned the room again. The rest hesitated and avoided answering. He raised his brows slightly, turned back to Ji Wenze—no words needed.
Ji Wenze had been holding back, but when Yu Sibai turned around with that blank face, he couldn’t help tilting his head and smiling.
“Team One… isn’t quite the style I imagined.” He tapped his cup lightly, then pointed at the most curious intern peeking around. “What about you?”
The one called was an intern, full of youthful energy that stood out sharply from the others. He clenched his fist. “Group Leader Yu is my goal!”
Ji Wenze turned to Yu Sibai with the same tilted head. “You’ve already got a successor lined up. Want to reconsider?”
Gao Xiangri, holding two rolls of drawings, looked between them. “And this is…?”
Ji Wenze smiled faintly and nodded, but didn’t answer. He straightened and flicked one of the bobblehead sunflowers on the desk near the door.
“Is this your team’s mascot?”
Gao Xiangri replied, “Oh, these are little souvenirs we give to clients.”
The sunflower’s spring was very elastic, its head bobbing endlessly.
“Cute. Send one to my office later.”
Then, in the same casual tone, Ji Wenze added, “Also, go coordinate with Assistant Yang later. Complete the meeting report by tomorrow.”
Yu Sibai stared at the sunflower, taking two seconds to realize the topic had already shifted to assigning work.
After receiving a “Got it,” Ji Wenze patted his shoulder twice in approval and turned away with a smile. “Carry on. I’ll look around myself.”
Yu Sibai’s gaze followed him instinctively.
This President Ji really did seem to be just strolling around, his pace unhurried, the hem of his dark gray coat swaying.
…So that glimpse in the break room earlier really was an illusion. This slightly irritating capitalist vibe—how was it anything like his quiet, warm-hearted idol, Execut2?
Yu Sibai pressed his lips together, withdrawing his gaze with a trace of regret—only to meet Gao Xiangri’s curious look.
“What’s up, boss? Checking out a handsome guy?”
At over 1.9 meters tall, Gao Xiangri looked down on everyone, but what he said sounded simple and a bit dumb.
Yu Sibai glanced at him. “No ambition.”
Gao Xiangri shrank back, scratching his head. “I am improving! Last semester my daughter’s kindergarten gave me ‘Best Dad’!”
Yu Sibai walked back to his workstation, tapping the intern’s desk as he passed. “Xiao Mu, later find a new sunflower and send it to—”
He paused.
Send it where?
“Got it. President Qian isn’t moving for now. The new boss is temporarily using the director’s office next door,” Wu Tianjiao said. “Send it there.”
Gao Xiangri almost dropped his drawings. “That was… the new boss?!”
Wu Tianjiao pushed up her glasses and looked at Yu Sibai.
Yu Sibai sat down heavily at his desk, sighed silently, and nodded.
“Yeah. Ji Wenze.”
The room of “sunflowers” immediately rustled with chatter.
“Surnamed Ji? As in Chairman Ji from headquarters?”
“Wait… Ji Wenze? That guy? Overseas-educated, the crown prince of HQ!”
“So he’s here to pad his résumé?”
Yu Sibai ignored them, put on his noise-canceling headphones, swiped the touch panel—then quietly switched to transparency mode.
He opened his software expressionlessly, while the gossip flowed clearly into his ears.
“I heard when he first graduated, he hid his identity and started from the bottom at HQ. He’s very capable—rose quickly. When he became department head, someone at a board meeting accidentally called him ‘Young Master Ji’…”
“No way, hahaha.”
“You urgently need to uninstall your novel apps.”
“I’m serious! He and Chairman Ji look exactly like mother and son when they smile!”
…
Yu Sibai searched Ji Wenze online and eventually found his profile on the company website.
Four years undergraduate, two years graduate school, joined HQ, promoted step by step… The timeline was crystal clear. No way he secretly spent three years at eighteen playing esports.
Even as a die-hard fan of Execut2, he had to admit his idol, like most pro players, only had a high school education.
Rubbing his temples, Yu Sibai closed his eyes, feeling like overtime had made him hallucinate.
“…But honestly, President Ji seems pretty nice,” someone said.
An informed voice clicked their tongue. “Depends on how you look at it.”
“I heard someone under him once messed up data and nearly ruined a bid meeting. Afterward, that person wasn’t punished—President Ji just said, ‘Don’t let it happen again.’”
“Huh?”
“Your priority is to stop watching romance dramas.”
“Let me finish! Later, that person made another mistake. This time nothing serious happened.”
“And then?”
“Then he was transferred to a marginal department the next day.”
“Damn, that’s the scariest kind.”
“I actually prefer that. First time is just a warning. If it were Qian Yuanxin, he’d already be holding meetings to tear them apart, haha…”
Yu Sibai sneered inwardly in agreement.
In any case, Qian Yuanxin leaving was a good thing. As for the new boss…
He’d observe for now. Deal with whatever comes. If it really didn’t work out, he could always quit.
At 9:30, Yu Sibai shut down his computer on the dot and stretched hugely in his chair.
Work that could’ve been done in half an hour had been dragged out to two and a half hours of slacking—rounded up, that was three hours of overtime pay. Truly hardworking!
He patted his own head.
Outside, it was still bright—not from the sky, but from rows of lit office buildings. He was neither the earliest nor the latest to leave.
Team One had already gone. As usual, Yu Sibai wrapped things up—cutting power, turning off lights, locking up—then took the elevator alone to the parking lot and immediately spotted his car.
A striking gray-blue among a sea of black, white, and gray. His colleagues always said it didn’t match his style.
…What did they know? It matched his idol Execut2’s hair color.
He got in, his phone connected to Bluetooth automatically, and a strong beat pulsed like a heartbeat as a narrative male voice sang a powerful battle anthem.
I need to keep you around
(I want to keep you by my side)
With my feet tied
(With my hesitant steps)
With my feet tied tight to the ground
(With feet that refuse to move forward)
…
The gray-blue car exited the garage. Yu Sibai tapped the steering wheel lightly to the rhythm, a small sense of joy rising with the music.
This was a song he never got tired of—the theme song from Execut2’s first championship.
Riot’s games might be debated, but their music was top-tier.
As the song built, even waiting at a red light, his head started swaying slightly.
Suddenly, he froze, pushed up his glasses, and leaned forward, squinting instinctively—
Like spotting Zhen Huan during a selection.
Kashen?!
…No, not him.
Yu Sibai let out a soft breath.
Ahead was a bridge. At its entrance stood President Ji in his dark gray coat, leaning against the railing. His expression was unclear—only a sharp, cold silhouette eerily similar to Execut2’s.
…A substitute.
His heart skipped a beat. The honk behind him snapped him back, and he shifted gears, driving forward.
Good thing the boss didn’t recognize his car. Otherwise, running into him after work would be awkward…
He treated it as a small incident and turned right at the intersection. But not long after, a large raindrop splashed onto the windshield—then more followed, rattling down like scattered marbles.
He flicked on the wipers and drove a bit further through the rain. Then suddenly, the image of that dark gray figure on the bridge resurfaced.
Leaning against the railing, head lowered, as if unwell.
There was a dinner engagement tonight… did he drink too much?
The rain intensified. The car slowed, then finally pulled over.
Yu Sibai pressed his lips together, logged into his streaming account, and posted a leave notice: [Picking up the boss, stream delayed].
Then he restarted the car, turned the wheel, and made a U-turn.
…A drunk person standing in the rain could get hypothermia and die. He wasn’t about to let Qian Yuanxin come back.
Besides, if he didn’t show up in front of the boss, how would the boss know he worked overtime?