Chi Ye clearly sensed the indoor temperature drop a notch further.
Just when things had finally started to look promising, they had hit a dead end once again.
Sure enough, the next second, He Lin asked with a dark face, “Have you finished memorizing the Core Socialist Values?”
Chi Ye: “…”
So moody! He wasn’t acting like an adult at all!
Though he forced his temper down several times, He Lin couldn’t quite contain it. Pulling a stern face, he ordered in a cold, devoid-of-warmth tone, “Recite it.”
Not a shred of room for negotiation! It was downright ruthless, cold-blooded, and unreasonable.
Chi Ye curled his lip. “…Huh?”
He Lin didn’t want to look at the grievance swirling in Chi Ye’s pretty eyes; it would make him soften.
Nor did he want Chi Ye to catch sight of the unwarranted agitation between his brows—it was too humiliating.
So he said, “Turn around and recite it.”
He Lin merely intended for Chi Ye to change his orientation, perhaps facing the beautiful scenery outside the window; anything was better than staring straight at his own face.
Yet Chi Ye gravely misunderstood the command.
Not only did he have to recite, but he also had to face the wall in self-reflection! What kind of cliché, twisted fetish was this?
Chi Ye had no words left to complain, but considering his superior’s roller-coaster emotions, he decided it was best to be a good boy and avoid stepping on any landmines.
He skirted around He Lin, who was seated dead center on the sofa, keeping his footsteps remarkably light as he walked step-by-step toward the largest expanse of “blinding orange” on the bedroom’s side wall.
Turn around, face the wall, stand at attention.
Legs pressed together, spine held straight.
He Lin: “…” Bound by his overbearing-CEO persona, he couldn’t very well drag the person back now.
Chi Ye drew a deep breath, effortlessly overcoming his massive psychological barrier, and began his performance: “National-level value objectives: prosperity, democracy, civility, and harmony.”
Balancing urgency and cadence, his clean, crisp voice rang out clearly.
Sentence by sentence, he spoke with fluid ease and calm detachment. Rather than reciting dry, tedious slogans, his demeanor resembled a stage actor giving an impassioned recitation of lines.
In truth, Chi Ye’s line delivery skills from his previous life were exceptionally solid.
He Lin’s breathing hitched slightly. For the third time in a single day, he was struck with astonishment by Chi Ye’s bone-deep transformation.
Chi Ye: “Social-level value orientations: freedom, equality, justice, and the rule of law.”
He Lin pressed a thumb against the bridge of his nose.
He finally realized he was just taking his frustrations out on someone else; after all, the kid hadn’t done anything wrong today, and baking cookies was essentially a gesture of goodwill.
Chi Ye: “Citizen-level value guidelines: patriotism, dedication, integrity, and friendliness.”
He Lin’s temples throbbed rhythmically.
Through the relentless brainwashing of authoritative, profound yet concise ideology, the young president deeply reflected on the fact that he hadn’t been calm or rational enough—he had lost his composure.
He hadn’t expected Chi Ye to be so remarkably submissive, cooperating obediently no matter how he picked a fight, without showing the slightest bit of dissatisfaction.
He Lin slowly turned around, his gaze lingering on Chi Ye’s wall-facing back.
Slender, lean, and looking terribly pitiful.
He Lin shook his head. Bullying someone like this wasn’t right.
Chi Ye had just finished reciting the catalog portion he knew best; the main text that followed was truly beyond his capacity. He hit a mental roadblock and grew terribly nervous, his heart performing somersaults right up in his throat.
Fortunately, He Lin called a timely halt.
Chi Ye let out a breath, blinking against the wall. A close call—he had barely muddled through.
It seemed Lin Yishui’s advice really worked; he could spare him from the blacklist for at least one minute.
He Lin gave a slight downward nod with his eyelids, signaling Chi Ye to take a seat.
Though the bedroom was massive, there were only two places to sit. The sofa was entirely occupied by He Lin, leaving Chi Ye with no choice but to opt for the more comfortable and spacious chaise longue.
Chi Ye had spent a tremendous amount of energy today—swimming, dreaming, baking cookies, and playing the zither. While standing, he had managed to keep his nerves strung tight to handle He Lin, but the moment his backside hit something soft, he involuntarily began to relax, his entire upper body sinking limply into the cushions.
At least he had enough sense not to kick off his shoes and hoist his feet up too.
He Lin took note of Chi Ye’s exhaustion.
“You today…” He Lin abruptly cut himself off, leaving the sentence unfinished.
What he had originally intended to ask was, “You did so much today—what on earth are you trying to accomplish?” But the moment the words reached his lips, he suddenly found himself unwilling to hear the answer.
Seduction, appeasement, or flattery—no matter which of these words Chi Ye might use in reply, they would all sound far too grating.
Having stood firm in the smoke of commercial warfare for many years, He Lin was long accustomed to inflicting hurt, but at this moment, he alone did not wish to see Chi Ye troubled.
Chi Ye, however, was far more casual about it than he was. Having survived too many grueling trials in his previous life, he had long since shed his pride. He operated on a simple rule: lean on whatever works, and trust whatever holds up.
“I’m trying to curry favor with you,” Chi Ye shrugged.
Perhaps the overly relaxed posture made Chi Ye momentarily forget his usual caution and wariness around He Lin, allowing a rare flash of carefree teenage nonchalance to break through.
“What ‘Chi Ye’ did before was indeed wrong, but time can’t flow backward, and the past can’t be changed. I can only try my best to make amends and redeem myself.”
He Lin’s deep pupils flared with light. He lifted his eyelids and stared fixedly at Chi Ye.
Utterly sincere.
Flawless.
If this was a deliberate act of disguise, he could only applaud such extraordinary acting chops.
He Lin closed his eyes for a moment, unaware that he had already taken half a step back in his heart. “What do you want?”
“To go out,” Chi Ye replied candidly. He knew his little tricks couldn’t escape He Lin’s discerning eyes, so honesty was the best policy. “I want to go out to work.”
“Work?”
He Lin arched an eyebrow, as if he had just heard something laughable.
A flicker of mockery flashed across his previously profound and focused eyes. It vanished quickly, but Chi Ye—who excelled at reading micro-expressions—caught it with acute sensitivity.
Chi Ye felt a headache coming on.
It was all the original owner’s fault for leaving behind so many craters; one couldn’t move without stepping on a landmine.
The original owner had been a good-for-nothing since childhood; his biological father had practically donated an entire building just to cram him into university, yet the moment he graduated, he crawled into He Lin’s bed, successfully tricking him into marriage before promptly dropping out of school. Post-marriage, he ran wild without boundaries, spending his days hitting nightclubs, buying sports cars, and snapping up diamonds. Aside from idling away his time and wasting his life, he knew nothing.
Now, suddenly announcing he wanted to work—He Lin’s skepticism was entirely justified.
Lacking any capital to argue his case, Chi Ye stiffened his back with a forced effort, looking defeated yet helpless. “I know you still don’t trust me. But I really want to turn over a new leaf and start fresh.”
“Since you’ve already let me out of confinement, you might as well see a good deed through to the end. I’m just wasting food lying around the house like a parasite all day anyway; you might as well give me a chance to go out and work. It’s not like it’ll cause you any loss.”
Chi Ye wasn’t particularly skilled at persuading others; compared to the negotiation tactics He Lin was accustomed to hearing in boardrooms, such a plain, straightforward plea was practically negligible.
Yet He Lin found it surprisingly effective.
It just felt clumsily endearing.
In truth, even if Chi Ye hadn’t brought it up, He Lin had been turning the idea of lifting his lockdown over in his mind for the past few days.
He Lin prided himself on absolute adherence to principles: once a person was released, there was naturally no justification for locking them back up, and the “Death Report” prepared by Lin Yishui had long since been fed to the shredder.
Besides, letting a grown man pace around the house all day wasn’t a long-term solution either.
If Chi Ye genuinely wanted to work, it wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing. He could easily toss him some trivial, dead-end position in a branch company, keep him under strict surveillance, and leave him safely within his line of sight.
He Lin lowered his gaze slightly. “I’ll have Lin Yishui keep an eye out for a suitable position in the company…”
Chi Ye’s eyes lit up instantly. Clearly, he hadn’t expected He Lin to concede so easily—he hadn’t even had the chance to bake his Plan B backup cupcakes yet.
“There’s no need to trouble him,” Chi Ye said, refusing politely while the smile in his eyes proved impossible to hide. “I can find my own gig.”
The exceptionally attractive corners of his lips curved upward into a bright, sincere smile, his eyes sparkling as though dusted with starlight. At that moment, the entire person seemed to glow.