His voice was carried by the night wind, tinged with alcohol, adding a hint of seduction.
…
Yu Sibai thought he must have gone mad from work to imagine such things. He shook his head sharply, hesitated for a moment, and finally spoke.
“Yes.”
That single word seemed to strike a chord deep within Ji Wenze. He curved his lips slightly and withdrew his gaze, staring into the distance.
“Not bad,” he said lightly. “You’re the director—whatever project you take on, isn’t it up to you?”
A twist of fate, a sudden ray of light. That one sentence hit Yu Sibai like a hammer, making him fidget in his seat.
Wait… are you actually trying to seduce me?
Yu, who was used to dealing with his boss through threats and authority alone, had never encountered this kind of situation. His mouth twitched as he tried to figure out a reply, only to hear a soft laugh.
“Really? Hesitating?” Ji Wenze sighed lazily.
“Director Yu… too late. The new director arrives tomorrow.”
…
Yu Sibai’s racing heart seemed to stop in an instant.
Well, it seemed there was no need to think about the venue project anymore.
This Ji had no sense of decency. And compared to Qian Yuanxin, Yu Sibai realized he wasn’t exactly a good person either—manipulating others was just casual for him.
After a moment, he slowly lifted his eyelids, half of his face swallowed by shadow, feeling like a vengeful ghost.
“Who?” he asked.
“Lu Jinren. Recommended by Qian Yuanxin. Do you know him?”
Yu Sibai thought for a moment. “Met him twice long ago. The client chose us.”
Ji Wenze smirked. “Seems he’s no match for Engineer Yu…”
Yu Sibai ignored that remark and simply asked, “Has he been confirmed for it?”
“Not yet—though, of course, I still prefer Director Yu.”
Yu lifted his head after a pause, only to see Ji Wenze’s side profile smiling.
He couldn’t read what was behind that mask.
This was the third time Ji Wenze had extended an olive branch—even after the first two times, Yu Sibai had refused clearly and without mercy.
Ji Wenze lazily adjusted his shirt cuff, like a large feline grooming itself, and said calmly, “No rush to reply.”
“Then three hours later, you ask me again?” Yu Sibai pursed his lips.
“Not at all…” Ji Wenze chuckled, turning his head slightly, his gaze passing over Yu Sibai’s expressionless face, finally settling on the young man’s eyes.
Bright, lively, persistent. Just like he had said—the one thing in this world that seemed to have warmth.
After a pause, Ji Wenze suddenly asked curiously: “You drove here yourself, just to talk to me about your venue project?”
The young man was clearly caught off guard by the sudden topic shift. He blinked, frowned slightly, and repeated the same line.
“…It’s not safe to drink alone.”
Ji Wenze suddenly remembered what Xue Jian had told him—Yu Sibai had once been left drunk outside a hotel. The corner of his lips twitched, and his amusement turned suddenly faint.
The teasing words he had been about to say twisted away. Ji Wenze withdrew his gaze, no longer mentioning the director project, pressed his lips together, and said plainly:
“In the company’s development plan for the next year, there’s no intention regarding the venue project. Sorry to disappoint you, Director Yu.”
There was no reply for a long moment. Ji Wenze turned, puzzled.
Yu Sibai seemed to have set a trap, waiting for him to look. He lifted his chin, and with a quiet, defiant snort, said:
“Really? I was just joking anyway.” He curved his lips, showing a hidden sharpness beneath his calm exterior.
“Thank you for your concern, President Ji.”
Ji Wenze blinked.
Though Director Yu had little expression and few words, his eyes were alive—vivid and intense.
“Thanks for the project, boss. If there’s nothing else, I’ll leave first.” Yu Sibai glanced back one last time, his gaze indifferent, as if he didn’t care about the life of the man half-drunk before him.
He waved his hand lightly, letting him go, and only after watching the young man’s figure round the corner did Ji Wenze smile to himself.
Yang Mengyue, who had been silent until now, finally asked, “President Ji, why did you give the Yu Heng Villa project directly to Team One?”
She recalled the plan: originally, the project was bait—or a trade to push Director Yu unwillingly into the fire as director.
So why had the boss changed his mind in just a few hours and asked her to bring the contract immediately?
“Perhaps he just didn’t feel like it.”
Despite being embarrassed, Ji Wenze seemed in a good mood. He smiled softly. “Let him be. It won’t be much trouble.”
Yang Mengyue’s expression flickered. “Since you moved to Ting Ji, your temper seems a lot calmer.”
Back when he was poaching talent at headquarters, Ji had been like a bandit masked with politeness. Moist southern air must have tamed him?
“He… is different,” Ji Wenze said thoughtfully, shocking Yang Mengyue.
“…Huh?” The ever-articulate assistant had no high-IQ reply this time.
Ji Wenze clicked his tongue, realizing his words might be misleading. “You all think too much… just think of it as spotting a tagged little animal.”
Yang Mengyue forced an embarrassed yet polite smile. The car slowed to a stop in front of her. Rarely, Ji Wenze didn’t wait for her to open the door—he got in first, almost like he was fleeing.
Yang Mengyue’s expression grew stranger.
Once inside, Ji Wenze, clearly uninterested in chatting, said directly: “Let’s talk business.”
Sitting in the passenger seat, Yang Mengyue immediately became serious. “The new director recommended by President Qian is Lu Jinren. He’s lost the same project to Team One twice before and had a few minor incidents…”
The light outside cast shadows on Ji Wenze’s face. When the car stopped at a red light, he was perfectly in shadow.
As if aware no one was watching, his smile faltered. The corners of his lips no longer lifted. There was a trace of cold fatigue in his expression.
Yet when he spoke, his voice still carried a smile, polished like a factory product.
“Our old Mr. Qian’s taste is as bad as ever.”
Yang Mengyue caught his meaning. “Then Lu Jinren…”
Ji Wenze closed his eyes in the back seat and replied casually:
“After the probation period, find an excuse to let him go.”
Yu Sibai didn’t know yet that his future boss was quietly out of a job. Still lingering on the venue project in his mind, he didn’t start streaming immediately after going home.
He first checked the official websites for Fearless Contract and its domestic agent, Fujing, then asked some familiar employees. Unfortunately, the website had nothing, and his friends in the events team knew nothing about the Carnival venue.
All his efforts proved fruitless. Yu Sibai finally gave up, rubbed his face, and sighed.
“Ah well… looks like it wasn’t meant to be,” he muttered to himself. “Don’t force it, don’t force it.”
“At least today I got Yu Heng Villa. Compared to Mr. Qian, this Ji… isn’t so bad after all.”
Comforting himself, he hurried to start the stream.
Though he said he was letting it go, part of him still lingered on the thought. He didn’t dare queue for ranked matches and only played one casual match—getting beaten dizzy-eyed.
ID: [I can’t hit anyone]. True to the name.
He was visibly distracted. When he left the match, the chat barrage immediately asked what happened.
After all, Respit2 was famous—not just as Execut2’s dream fan, but as a super workaholic.
Today, he’d finally zoned out.
“You all are so kind today,” Yu Sibai read the comments, laughing. “Nothing much… just that there was a project I liked, but no interest from above.”
【Go for it!】
【Forced fruit is the sweetest!】
Yu Sibai said, “If I want this project, I have to climb higher. But climbing means giving up my freedom… what if I get promoted and have no time to stream?”
【You said the same when you graduated. Didn’t you still stream as a workaholic?】
【No stream, get out】
【Man, you think I can’t live without you?】
【Ha, think you’re special?】
“Really?” Yu Sibai spoke, then the image of Ji Wenze smiling faintly in the night flashed through his mind. He mimicked that calm, teasing tone with seven-tenths accuracy.
“Since you say so, I can safely chase my project dream… right?”
The chat exploded.
【?】
【What’s happening?】
【??? Who’s this succubus?】
【Who taught our kid this!】
Some were genuinely fooled.
【You promised to stream forever / crying】
【I was wrong, I kneel, don’t leave me / meltdown】
Yu Sibai laughed. “Just joking, joking. Forever streaming—until chickens eat all the rice, dogs chew all the noodles, fire burns the locks, until card god rises from his grave…”
Seeing the chat meltdown, he smiled like a boss.
It was fun. Question Ji Wenze, understand Ji Wenze, become Ji Wenze.
【Seriously, no one questions a streamer who gets promoted immediately?】
【Fun fact: Res never fails at what he sets out to do】
【Streamed all semester, got top GPA】
【Said he’d win Best New Streamer in a year—did it】
【Said he’d become top streamer before graduation—did it】
【Even won ICG championship】
【This guy is a concept god】
【Except summoning her husband hhh】
“Not so mystical,” Yu Sibai cried-laughed. “Just a crappy life, gotta live it.”
【Streamer, don’t be like the phone in my hand / crying】
“Nope, money isn’t lacking now… just a habit, won’t slow down that fast.” Yu Sibai idly tapped his mic cord, chatting casually with the barrage.
【Official just posted: Carnival venue accepting fan booths. Want to apply?】
【Do something you like, this is good】
【Right, streamer’s professional field fits!】
【Even in part-time, gotta earn extra, you never let him rest】
That long barrage flashed by, but Yu Sibai caught it.
“A fan booth? Like self-designed?”
【No payment, you money-grubber】
Yu Sibai: “Oh, never mind…”
【But solo booths come with rare player-exclusive merchandise~】
He gasped, slapped the desk, eyes wide, and said firmly:
“Just applying for a solo Execut2 booth, no money involved. Don’t insult my relationship with Card God! Where’s the official post? What merch…”
He laughed, delighted, dimples showing.
“Quick, pause ranked, I’m signing up!”
Even if the company forbade venue projects, small anonymous booths were fine—no one would know.
The key… Card God’s rare merchandise!
Jianglan Royal Residence.
Ji Wenze emerged from the shower, propped his tablet against the fogged mirror, and opened Respit2’s stream.
After two seconds of black loading, he glanced at today’s stream title.
【Collecting inspiration yippee hehe haha bvb】
His hand froze mid-dry.
…Today, half a bottle of wine—was it really my boss?
Ji Wenze chuckled, tossed the towel into the hamper, combed his hair, and by the time he grabbed a hairdryer, the young streamer’s voice came through.
“Young people need to watch this to have energy to work! Uh, no, just collecting inspiration… for work… hehe, my male god is so handsome.”
Heart skipped. Ji Wenze turned—unprepared, his gaze met the screen: a familiar yet strange face, gray-blue hair, childish yet arrogant, filled with talent-pride ice-cold expression.
—Execut2.
Ji Wenze took a deep breath. The smile he had worn for years teetered on the edge.
Director Yu. Yu Sibai. Respit2.
How many shocks have I yet to see?
Eyebrows furrowed, Ji Wenze sent a message in the chat.
【Streaming this all night?】
He expected the lone message to vanish into the barrage—but moments later, Yu Sibai read it aloud.
“Streaming this all night?” He smiled lightly, making Ji Wenze uneasy, a sense of cosmic déjà vu washing over him.
The streamer’s voice was bright, playful, like he was wriggling with joy.
“Yes, yes! Tonight, tomorrow night, the whole week—streaming this!”