Autumn was deepening in the north, and the weather in City B had already turned quite chilly. Yet, inside the He family’s villa, it remained warm as spring.
Sunlight filtered lazily through layers of fine gauze curtains, casting mottled, shifting shadows upon the luxurious long-pile carpet.
In the very center of the European-style carved wooden bed in the master bedroom, Chi Ye was sleeping soundly, completely swathed in a silk quilt, leaving only a fluffy head sticking out.
Chi Ye had refused to give up. After the housekeeper left, he had scoured every corner of the bedroom without stopping, turning even Bubba’s doghouse upside down with a meticulousness that surpassed his past efforts to track down a lost flash drive.
However, aside from a few coins from some unknown country rattling inside a Hermès-customized piggy bank, he came up completely empty-handed.
Those few coins combined wouldn’t even fetch half a pound of pork; if anything, the jar itself was the only valuable thing here…
Utterly defeated, Chi Ye tossed the piggy bank to Bubba and hurled himself face-first onto the bed, indulging in a thoroughly dedicated fit of depression.
Ten minutes later, unable to resist the temptation of the soft, comfortable pillow, he rolled over and fell fast asleep, utterly without a care in the world.
Chi Ye was jolted awake by a nightmare.
In his dream, he was dragged back to his past life before transmigrating into the novel.
In that previous life, Chi Ye was nothing more than an extra whose name couldn’t even be found listed in the rolling credits.
He was on set, shooting a period costume drama.
Suspended in mid-air by steel wires, his series of martial arts maneuvers should have flowed seamlessly—not necessarily flawless, but at least fluid and natural. Yet, right at the final moment of thrusting his sword, he lost his composure. Instead of executing the required evasion, he threw himself directly into the path of the incoming blow. The leading actor opposite him was wielding a heavy prop iron sword weighing over ten jin, and Chi Ye, unable to dodge in time, crashed violently against a tree. The impact left him bleeding profusely, his head split open.
Chi Ye bolted upright from the bed with a start, a cold sweat already dampening his lean, butterfly-like shoulder blades.
It was only a dream, but the fear Chi Ye felt was agonizingly real.
He rubbed his face, looking dazedly out the window. The sun blazed high in the sky; it must have been past noon.
When a bird is kept locked in a cage for too long, does it really start mistaking the iron bars for a paradise?
Chi Ye felt a sudden wave of despair. “If I even forget the skills that earn me a living, I’ll probably be left with nothing to do except wait to be plucked, thrown in a pot, and boiled.”
Yet, a renewed spirit quickly flared up within him, igniting a blazing determination.
No matter what, life could not go on like this any longer.
Chi Ye shook his head vigorously, utterly banishing the nightmare and the lingering terror in the depths of his heart. Then, he flipped over and swung his legs out of bed.
When He Lin opened his bedroom door and saw that the person standing outside was actually Chi Ye, he was genuinely startled.
It wasn’t just because the original “Chi Ye”—who usually went out of his way to avoid him—had actually taken the initiative to come and knock; it was also because today, Chi Ye looked exceptionally striking, making it almost impossible to look away.
Although the original owner came from a wealthy background, his taste was truly concerning. Perhaps eager to broadcast his affluence, he possessed an obsessive fascination with flashy luxury-brand logos, practically draping himself in every seasonal fashion trend until he resembled a walking boutique display stand.
The first time Chi Ye had opened that glittering, gold-encrusted walk-in closet, his disgust had been absolute. For the past half-month, he had contented himself with lounging around the villa in a single, simple set of casual loungewear.
But today was different. Since Chi Ye was planning to make his presence known to He Lin, he had deliberately groomed himself before stepping out of his room.
As an actor, he naturally knew precisely how to make himself look appealing.
After rummaging through the wardrobe, he had selected a plain white sweater devoid of any embellishments, pairing it with dark, straight-leg jeans that created the optical illusion that everything from his neck down was pure leg. Chi Ye had even blown-dry his hair, his dark locks making his porcelain-white skin look even more translucent.
He was the quintessential, pampered scion of an aristocratic family—clean, immaculate, and untouched by worldly dust.
Even He Lin, a man who had never once yielded to mere physical beauty, couldn’t help but inwardly praise him as “stunning.” He deliberately forced his face into a cold mask, his reprimand masking a defensive urge: “What is it?”
In his hands, Chi Ye carried a freshly washed and neatly pressed black bathrobe.
The corners of his eyes curved upward into a perfectly measured smile. “I really didn’t consider things through properly regarding the swimming pool this morning. Next time, no matter what I do, I’ll make sure to report to you beforehand.”
Chi Ye said this primarily as a tactical retreat. After all, according to the original novel, He Lin was a cold-hearted corporate tyrant dedicated to consolidating his dominance, working at all hours of the day and night. What leisure time could he possibly have to listen to a minor cannon-fodder character report on trivial household matters?
Chi Ye waited cheerfully for the Second Master to dismiss him with a cold ‘There’s no need for that,’ after which he could completely let loose and do whatever he pleased.
To his surprise, He Lin lowered his gaze in thought for a moment before actually nodding. “Very well.”
Chi Ye: “…” That rock just crushed my own toes.
Suppressing a sigh internally, Chi Ye raised the bathrobe slightly. “Would you like me to put this back in the wardrobe for you?”
He Lin frowned.
There was honestly no need whatsoever. It was just a bathrobe; since someone else had already worn it, he would never put it on his own body again. In all likelihood, it would just be tossed aside casually upon its return.
While He Lin’s rational mind firmly rejected the idea, his body had already subtly shifted to the side, clearing a path to the doorway for the person before him.
Chi Ye showed not a shred of politeness. Grinning brightly, he slipped right past He Lin’s outstretched arm and stepped into the room.
This was his first time setting foot inside He Lin’s private sanctuary. The sweeping black, white, and gray minimalist aesthetic perfectly matched his status as an overbearing CEO. Chi Ye walked straight into the walk-in closet. The room was spotless, with seasonal clothing neatly categorized and arranged in order of hue and brightness.
Chi Ye sighed; it seemed he wouldn’t find any practical use for his talents here.
His original plan had been thorough: if he wanted to mend his relationship with He Lin, he would have to take the initiative to cozy up to him. After all, the original owner had slapped the Second Master across the face—sacrificing a bit of his own pride to make amends was the least he could do. Besides, he didn’t mind; his skin was thick enough.
He had planned to play the obedient dependent, offering to organize closets or clean rooms while testing the waters to see what the probability was of him ever being allowed outside the villa.
Clearly, that plan was a dead end now.
Though Chi Ye had been proud and arrogant in his past life, spending years immersed in the murky waters of the entertainment industry had thoroughly eroded whatever political integrity he once had. Serving tea, pouring water, gambling, massaging shoulders—he had picked up every subservient trick in the book without even trying.
He couldn’t just give up this hard-won opportunity to win He Lin over.
Hesitating for half a second, Chi Ye raised his eyes to look at He Lin standing behind him. “Is there anything else you’d like me to do?”
He Lin looked baffled.
Chi Ye smiled softly. “For instance… a head massage? Or shoulder rubs?”
He Lin: “…”
Chi Ye: “Back cracking might not be my strong suit, but I can give it a try.”
He Lin furrowed his brow.
Chi Ye’s gaze slid downward, zeroing in: “Or should I give you a foot massage?”
He Lin: “Get out!”
When Chi Ye appeared in the kitchen, everyone inside—including the head chef—was rigid with tension.
A young young master who had never lifted a finger in his life clashed entirely with the smoky, fiery atmosphere of a kitchen.
The kitchen staff exchanged glances, tacitly concluding that Young Master Chi’s personal arrival at the grassroots level must be an inspection tour.
The chef hurriedly extended both hands to shake Chi Ye’s, while a junior maid frantically dropped a freshly plucked heart of bok choy back into the water to wash it all over again.
To their astonishment, the young master’s first request was simply for an apron.
Chef: [Retracts hand] Junior Maid: [Shakes greens nervously] Kitchen Assistant: [Produces a brand-new apron]
Chi Ye was going to cook.
Having hit a wall in He Lin’s room moments earlier, Chi Ye simply decided to try another path.
In his previous life, he had acted in countless cheesy family-ethics dramas, giving him a wealth of theoretical experience. For instance, whenever a melodramatic crisis erupted between the male and female leads, the heroine could invariably salvage the romance with a home-cooked meal and a few tears.
Chi Ye figured that the psychology of men dealing with men probably followed a similar script.
After all, people are always more forgiving after eating your food.
While the chef and servants were still in collective shock, Chi Ye had already slipped on his apron, rolled up his sleeves, and begun kneading dough, waving a hand to signal everyone to go about their business and ignore him.
The junior maid hesitated repeatedly, terrified that Chi Ye might end up blowing up the kitchen, and finally sneaked out to find the head butler.
Butler Zhu was out in the courtyard watering the flowers. Hearing that the young master was personally taking charge in the kitchen, he was so moved that his hand shook, spilling the entire watering can over his own trousers.
The old man shook out his pant leg with the air of a wealthy magnate. “It doesn’t matter! Under no circumstances are you to stop him. Let him blow the place up to his heart’s content.”
Pausing a moment, he nodded with even greater emphasis to reinforce his point. “Yes, it doesn’t matter at all. We have two other kitchens in the house; we can switch over at any moment.”
The junior maid stared with wide eyes for a long time, verifying that the man before her was indeed the same Butler Zhu who would normally wince in heartbreak over a single scratched tile, before shaking her head suspiciously and heading back inside.
Along the way, she quietly calculated whether potential repair costs would eat into her monthly wages.
In truth, however, their worries were entirely unfounded.
Though Chi Ye’s culinary skills couldn’t be called exquisite, they certainly weren’t hazardous enough to burn down a forest.
Furthermore, today he was making the lowest-risk item possible: baked cookies.
Chi Ye had possessed a sweet tooth since childhood, holding zero resistance toward cakes, pastries, and especially lollipops. Having eaten so many, he eventually couldn’t resist trying to bake them himself, and through trial and error, he had managed to figure out a few tricks.
Chi Ye had his own little strategy in mind.
Given He Lin’s noble status, he had likely grown jaded by the finest and most expensive delicacies; only something out-of-the-ordinary could capture his attention.
The cookies he was planning to make relied on a secret formula for the ratio of milk, butter, and white sugar—exclusive to Chi Ye, found nowhere else.
Years of being a dedicated foodie had led to purely self-taught mastery.
His technique might not be orthodox, but the taste was guaranteed to be unique.
Even the master chef whom Butler Zhu had poached at great expense from a Michelin-starred restaurant couldn’t help clicking his tongue in amazement.