Chi Ye suddenly opened his eyes wide, his mouth agape, yet unable to squeeze out the slightest sound.
Fortunately, He Lin did not need him to answer.
Turning around directly, he strode away without the slightest reluctance. In his wake, the hem of his ink-colored trench coat swept out a cold arc in midair.
Chi Ye blankly allowed those black-suited men to escort and throw him into a airtight basement.
Moving his left hand and left foot in tandem.
Without the slightest bit of resistance.
The leading youth wore a strictly professional expression, pushed Chi Ye into the room, pressed him onto the bed board, and then dropped the sentence “Second Master said you should rest well” before leading the group away.
The iron door was closed tightly from the outside.
The surroundings instantly turned dark, and amidst a deathly quiet, the sound of the iron chain locking on the door was exceptionally grating.
With a “clatter” sound.
Chi Ye snapped back to his senses.
The cotton suit fabric rubbed directly against his delicate skin without any separation, feeling somewhat itchy. Chi Ye couldn’t help shrinking his neck back, tentatively shuffling backward to half-lean against the cold iron-pipe bed head.
Facing four white walls, doubting life.
Chi Ye spent a long time building up his mental state before mustering the courage to tentatively bend his fingers to pinch his own palm, immediately making him grimace in pain: “Hiss… hurts, hurts, hurts.”
Alright, the last shred of wishful thinking shattered.
Not a dream.
Indeed transmigrated into a book.
Also, quite trendy…
Chi Ye was an actor in his previous life, having bitterly struggled in film crews for ten years, acting in many bizarre scripts and seeing even more bizarre anecdotes, so he had no mental barriers to accepting the matter of transmigration itself.
The only thing that deeply vexed him was the former owner of this body—the troublesome original owner.
In the scum-and-submissive angst novel titled 《Chi and He(He)huan》, the original owner was a thorough cannon-fodder male supporting character. The sole significance of his existence in the book was to use his continuous self-destruction to propel the vigorous development of male protagonist He Lin’s career arc.
He Lin—the man who ordered Chi Ye to be locked in here just a few minutes ago—is known in Jianghu as He Second Master.
Crowned with a dazzling protagonist halo, generously endowed by his loving author mother with the “cool weather, time for the Wang family to go bankrupt” skill, he controlled China’s largest commercial empire at a young age, straddling both politics and business, with overwhelming power, traversing both the underworld and righteous paths, covering the sky with one hand.
He Lin and the original owner, who was the heir of an entertainment company, were in a commercial marriage.
It was a marriage of mutual need with no emotional attachment to speak of, yet the original owner completely failed to see the situation clearly, acting arrogant, self-centered, willful, and making trouble everywhere, even swaggering around under the title of Mrs. He, driving He Lin to extreme annoyance.
Later on, when the original owner’s father’s company went bankrupt, his temperament became increasingly bizarre, not only jumping around to scheme for the He family’s assets, but also becoming obsessed with the thrills of S&M games, having an affair with a bodyguard within marriage…
Finally touching He Lin’s bottom line.
The outcome was completely predictable; an original owner whose IQ was severely short-circuited was no match for the highly skilled and black-bellied Master He.
Look, by the day Chi Ye transmigrated, the original owner’s self-destruction progress bar had already reached 99.9%.
Only a final kick away.
According to the original plot, a few minutes ago the original owner and the bodyguard should have already gone all the way with real swords and real spears. When He Lin arrived, catching them red-handed, in a fit of rage he locked the original owner in the basement, imprisoning him for the rest of his half-life.
Chi Ye clearly remembered there being such a description in the original text: “That young master who was once unbridled and flamboyant failed to step out of that tightly closed door for the rest of his life, ending his remaining years amidst boundless regret and resentment…”
Damn it!
Chi Ye let out a heavy breath, slamming his head into the pillow, feeling thoroughly listless and devoid of hope.
Having managed to live a second life with such difficulty, who wants to be imprisoned to death?
Chi Ye worked as an actor in his previous life, and when he was so exhausted from overlapping schedules that he had to be hospitalized, he truly and sincerely sighed, hoping that in his next life he could be a carefree bird, no longer running for survival and living so miserably.
However, did the immortal passing by that day mishear?
What he wanted to be was an eagle, the kind that can soar spreading its wings freely. Not a canary, and even less a canary plucked bare of its feathers and locked in a cage waiting for the pot.
Chi Ye buried his head into the shoddily made pillow and rubbed it hard a few times, chanting three times “Calm, restraint, already dead anyway, worrying is useless,” and then within half a minute made up his mind that no matter what, he had to escape this place.
He raised his eyes to look at a pair of wrists that had yet to gain freedom—the original owner’s figure was slender and thin, his arms as thin as a little girl’s, looking at a glance incapable of carrying anything on the shoulder or lifting anything by hand. Then he turned his head to look at the thick and heavy iron door, yet for some reason, the faces of those tall and burly black-suited men who had escorted him just now suddenly appeared in his eyes.
“…Forget it then.”
Chi Ye shook his head rapidly, decisively abandoning the self-destructive idea of “finding a way to escape behind He Lin’s back.”
Although the green paint had already been brushed thick and good on the hat personally crafted by that pitfall of an original owner, as long as it hadn’t yet been buckled onto He Second Master’s head, there was still a turnaround for the matter.
There would be, a turnaround, right?
If he could fight to the death to prove that he was actually forced, and then put on a submissive, compromising look, striving to awaken the domineering CEO’s sympathy and forbearance, would there still be hope for a peaceful divorce, parting on good terms? Perhaps getting a tiny bit of severance pay compensation or something when being swept out the door?
As a professional actor, laying down one’s pride and playing a few hypocritical acts wasn’t too difficult after all.
Chi Ye sniffled, miserable and bleak: “Fortunately, transmigrating over was timely enough.”
Then rolling over, he fell asleep.
He was simply too exhausted; within a dozen or so short hours, being hit by a car, transmigrated, forced, and caught in the act… The thick drowsiness accumulated at this moment impatiently invaded from every pore, his eyelids no longer able to hold up.
There were no windows in the basement, no sunlight, and thus no change of time.
Chi Ye didn’t know how long he had slept in a daze, only knowing he was frozen awake. Opening his eyes again, the ten fingers of his locked-together hands were ice-cold, a needle-pricking numbness spreading along his limbs all the way to the top of his head.
Chi Ye pouted; he was naturally sensitive to cold, just like that in his previous life, not expecting it to still be like that after changing bodies.
Truly not a single surprise.
The basement that never saw daylight all year round lacked any heating installations, and even the air was filled with a gloomy, damp, decaying chill.
The small bit of warmth brought out from the quilt dissipated quickly, and Chi Ye shivered several times, raising his hands, exhaling a breath of hot air, cupping them together to rub them, barely propping himself up to sit, and looking around slowly and sluggishly.
Coming in a hurry last night, his mind was in a mess, so he hadn’t looked carefully, but now having looked around…
Then, he almost lost the tiny bit of confidence he had managed to establish with such difficulty.
The old ceiling lamp overhead shone with dim light, emitting a hissing current sound from time to time. The enclosed indoor space was extremely small, facilities crude, with a table, a chair, and a cold, hard single iron bed beneath him forming the entirety of his possessions, lacking even a storage space. All four sides were stark white cement walls, suffocatingly blocking a person in.
For the original owner to actually manage to survive the rest of his half-life in such an environment could also be considered a talent; Chi Ye felt that if it were him, at most half a month, he would die of depression.
However, why would He Lin build such an out-of-place basement inside such a luxurious villa?
It was practically prepared exclusively for imprisoning people, waiting only for the original owner to make a mistake any day, so he could directly check in with bags in hand.
Thinking about it sends chills down the spine.
As if in a trance, a burst of clattering metal collisions suddenly sounded outside the door.
Chi Ye gave a start, turning his head blankly toward the doorway.
The tightly closed door was pushed open forcefully from the outside.
The light outside was very bright, stinging Chi Ye’s eyes slightly so he couldn’t open them fully, only seeing through the blur the straight silhouette of He Lin standing against the light, his physique appearing taller and colder.
Chi Ye wanted to raise his hand to rub his eyes, only to find that his hands locked together overnight were completely numb, a slight movement bringing a piercing stabbing pain, and he couldn’t help drawing in a sharp breath.
Lin had come to call him to account.
A dozen minutes or so ago, assistant Lin Yishui came to report Chi Ye’s situation, simultaneously opening the monitoring screen of the night-vision camera for him to review.
He Lin glanced at it with an attitude of indifference, only to unexpectedly discover that Chi Ye—who ought to be crying to high heaven and smashing walls or tearing down houses—was actually lying inside the quilt sleeping soundly.
So calm and composed, could this still be that cowardly and troublesome Chi Ye?
Lin harbored the intention of disciplining and teaching Chi Ye a lesson, intentionally giving him a display of authority, only to find in the end that it didn’t work.
At that instant, The Second Master—whose emotions hadn’t been stirred by anything for a long time—actually felt a long-lost playful interest rise on his face.
…
Lin stepped into the basement, the distance between each step almost equal, unhurried, as natural as inspecting his own territory.
His expression was stern and unyielding.
Chi Ye shrank back subconsciously.
Yet within a few short seconds, he quickly adjusted his mindset, bringing out his best acting state.
Before He Lin could open his mouth to question, Chi Ye moved first.
He rolled off the bed in one motion, attempting to stand up to greet He Lin, but because his hands were still restrained and mobility was inconvenient, and the bed beneath him was too high, a stumble caused him to fall flat on the ground.
In a posture of kneeling on both knees.
The cold, hard floor offered no buffer, and Chi Ye didn’t take that hit lightly, the cartilage on his knees smashing onto the floor tiles with a muffled “bang” sound.
He Lin stepped back half a step abruptly.
On a face that was usually as calm as a stagnant ancient well appeared an expression that could even be called astonishment—this was definitely not a movement that the “Chi Ye” in his memory could execute.
Chi Ye froze himself as well.
He really hadn’t intended to bow down with such a grand courtesy.
How come this bad habit of rushing and panicking whenever he got nervous still couldn’t be broken even after dying once?
“Hiss…” It hurt too much; Chi Ye tried twice and failed to stand up, and He Lin clearly had no intention of giving him a helping hand.
Damn it, cold-blooded!
Chi Ye had no choice but to bite the bullet and go along with the mistake, maintaining this kneeling posture on both knees, looking up at the man, then immediately lowering his eyes, submissive and meek, softly saying: “Second Master, I was wrong. I won’t dare do it again.”
His voice sounded like a kitten’s, obedient and soft.
Actually somewhat pleasing?
The suit jacket originally draped over his shoulders rolled down to his body below, his dense and slender eyelashes trembling gently, seemingly silently telling of his inner anxiety and panic.
An alluring disheveled mess.
And vulnerability.
Butler Zhu, who had hurried over right behind He Lin, happened to catch this scene upon reaching the door, almost thinking his eyes were playing tricks on him, staying dazed in place and even forgetting to enter—could this still be their young Master Chi? He actually knew how to admit his mistake? Knew how to regret?
It wasn’t that He Lin had never had people kneel to him before, but it was his first time feeling it was so eyesore.
His dark black sword-like brows furrowed, “Get up first.”
“…Can I get up?” Chi Ye raced countless grassland animals across his mind.
Yet since He Lin had spoken, he didn’t dare not move, and could only bring his palms together to prop himself up behind his hips with effort, enduring the pain, stumbling to his feet, stepping barefoot onto the cold ground.
He Lin’s pitch-black pupils rested upon Chi Ye’s rapidly swelling and bruising knees.
In eyes that usually lacked ripples flashed a trace of vague forbearance out of nowhere, yet the emotion abruptly rose only to vanish without a trace in an instant, so fast that even He Lin himself didn’t have time to catch it.
Only the prepared harsh reprimands could no longer be spoken.
Chi Ye wasn’t short, standing around 178 centimeters tall, but he was still half a head shorter when standing in front of He Lin, who wore custom-tailored leather shoes.
He Lin, from top to bottom, scrutinized Chi Ye with a burning gaze akin to an interrogation, an inviolable coercive aura that tolerated no compromise.
As their gazes met, He Lin’s deep vocal timbre sounded without a trace of temperature: “Five minutes.”
Chi Ye: “Huh?”
He Lin: “You’d better hurry up and say something I don’t know.”
Chi Ye only then understood, daring to think he had been given a chance to explain.
Butler, who was guarding the door and didn’t dare to enter, widened his eyes once more, as if seeing a ghost. Second Master had always been decisive and merciless toward traitors; when had he ever seen him listen to any defense?
Had these two people today both been possessed by other souls?
Chi Ye racked his brains trying to figure out how to make He Lin believe in just a short five minutes that he was actually innocent, had not cheated, and had never stolen his trade secrets.
His handcuffed wrist suddenly tightened, and his whole body was thrown onto the bed by a powerful force.
He Lin, like a merciless judge, reminded him icily: “Thirty seconds passed.”
Chi Ye swallowed his saliva.
Wearing a pitiful expression, he said: “Second Master, actually I was forced…”
He Lin lifted his eyelids, released his grip, and stood up, “How were you forced, demonstrate it for me to see.”