At six in the afternoon, the afterglow of the setting sun shone upon the luxurious glazed tiles of the manor, refracting into a breathtaking spectrum of rainbow-colored light.
The sprinklers in the rose garden rotated 360 degrees, spraying a fine mist. Everything should have been a scene of tranquility, but it was shattered by a sudden, sharp cry. Through the glass windows of the third-floor corridor, several maids could be seen rushing anxiously towards one location.
At the bottom of the spiral staircase, a young man dressed flamboyantly lay sprawled on the ground, a pool of blood forming beneath his head. The sight alone was terrifying.
Ten minutes later, a private doctor and his assistant hurriedly arrived at the manor.
Another ten minutes after that, the servants tried to contact the owner of the estate, only to be told by his assistant, “The President is in a meeting,” before the call was ruthlessly disconnected.
During this time, the electrocardiogram monitor even briefly flatlined, but it quickly returned to normal.
By evening, a light drizzle began to fall. The servants stood by the bedside, softly weeping—for their own bleak futures.
Their sobs rose and fell in waves. So absorbed were they in their grief that no one noticed the person on the bed had opened their eyes and was staring blankly at the ceiling.
The current situation was far too bizarre, causing Fu Cen to hesitate before making a sound.
It wouldn’t be good to interrupt everyone’s mourning.
Moreover, if he made a sound and everyone awkwardly stared at him, Fu Cen imagined it and felt his toes curl up in suffocating embarrassment.
Some people, bored from crying, began to whisper among themselves.
“This young master Fu really has a tragic fate. His parents passed away not long ago, and now he’s about to follow them. President Shen won’t even come back to see him.”
“Well, it’s his own fault for forcing himself to marry President Shen. It even made it to the trending searches. If he had just settled down after marrying in, it would have been fine, but he kept causing trouble left and right. No wonder President Shen refuses to return.”
Fu Cen’s head throbbed with pain as he tried to figure out, who is President Shen?
“President Shen… is just President Shen.”
Fu Cen accidentally spoke out loud, and the person who answered also sensed something was off. The two of them locked eyes, both shuddering.
The gazes of everyone in the room shot toward Fu Cen in unison.
Fu Cen: “…You all, carry on?”
His long, delicate eyelashes closed once more.
The servants, however, were quite excited. Some called for the doctor, others changed his medicine, and some brought food. The noise around him was incessant, and Fu Cen’s head felt as if it had been struck by a heavy hammer.
He didn’t know why he was lying in this completely unfamiliar place. What made Fu Cen even more nervous was that all these strangers were bustling around him.
If he so much as moved a finger, someone would immediately tuck his hand back under the blanket. If his eyelashes fluttered, the lights would instantly dim a few degrees. The excessive attentiveness made his social anxiety flare up.
Fu Cen lay even more rigidly, adopting a standard funeral pose.
Under the light of the million-dollar chandelier, he looked as beautiful as a freshly manufactured BJD doll.
Beautiful as he was, and though the servants appeared very caring in their actions, once they finished their assigned tasks, they left one after another, each faster than the last.
After lying there for half an hour, the surroundings finally fell silent. Only then did Fu Cen cautiously open one eye to peek around. Confirming no one was there, he shakily climbed out of bed and opened the window to figure out exactly where he was.
What he saw startled him.
In view were an European-style fountain and a vast flower field. The entire mansion covered an expansive area, still dazzling with lights even at night, exuding an aura of opulent wealth everywhere.
As the cold wind blew, his delayed memories finally connected to a 5G network. After sorting through them, Fu Cen reluctantly accepted his current situation—he should, probably, perhaps, have transmigrated into a book.
Outside the glass window, the night was deep, clearly reflecting a delicate and frail young man.
The boy wore loose-knit pajamas, his forehead wrapped in layers of bandages stained with faint traces of blood. Paired with his sickly pale face, he resembled a pristine white lotus in full bloom.
Fu Cen stared at the face that bore some resemblance to his own, feeling dizzy and disoriented.
If the memories flooding his mind were not mistaken, he had transmigrated into the novel that a nurse had recommended to him not long ago.
He vividly remembered how the nurse would always wear a mischievous smile whenever she came to stretch his joints. At first, Fu Cen didn’t understand why, and he never bothered to ask. It wasn’t until the nurse noticed his low spirits—how he often sat by the window lost in thought—that she mentioned, hoping to cheer him up, that he shared the same name as a character in a certain novel.
When the nurse gave him the book, she even said, “I recommend reading it aloud and memorizing the whole thing.”
At that time, Fu Cen was suffering from severe tenosynovitis in both hands and could no longer paint obsessively as he used to. With plenty of free time on his hands, he actually opened the book and started reading.
The novel was divided into two parts. The first part focused on the love and hatred of the first generation, while the second part depicted the rivalry among their descendants.
The protagonist of the first part was named Shen Wufeng. He embodied all the traits of a domineering CEO in novels—cold-hearted, wealthy, exceptionally handsome, with a V-shaped torso and a narrow waist, frequently gracing the covers of financial magazines. With a mere flick of his hand, he could trigger economic upheaval. A single phrase like “the weather’s turning cold, time for the Wang family to fall” would instantly leave countless people unemployed.
In the modern world, he was like an emperor.
He was also the father of the cold-blooded antagonist in the second part of the story.
The first part mainly revolved around the domineering CEO’s romantic pursuits—his restrained subordinate, gentle friend, scheming rival, wolf-like younger brother, handsome celebrity…
Each of them was more handsome than the last, with distinct personalities and sharp intellects, leaving countless readers swooning. But…
But the domineering CEO never touched any of them.
It was as if his capacity for love had been stolen at birth.
Gradually, readers began to speculate whether the CEO had issues in that department.
The identity Fu Cen had transmigrated into was that of the malicious supporting character—Shen Wufeng’s contractual husband, the only one who managed to secure his position through sheer audacity.
He was also the wicked stepfather of the antagonist in the second part.
The novel described him as having a face so captivating it could cloud one’s judgment and a figure so alluring it could make one’s blood boil, yet his personality was utterly despicable. The author labeled him as a “thorny wild rose.”
Fu Cen, the little thorny hedgehog: “.”
The original character had little development in the story, serving merely as a tool to occupy the position of the wealthy family’s spouse. He had once defied his parents’ wishes to dabble in the entertainment industry, only to adopt an arrogant attitude of “I am supreme, and everyone else is beneath me,” offending everyone in the industry.
Unsurprisingly, he dominated the blacklist rankings, becoming irredeemably unpopular through sheer force of incompetence.
After his parents died unexpectedly, everyone turned against him. With no way out, the original character disguised himself as an innocent, delicate flower to approach the domineering CEO and orchestrated a scheme to climb into his bed. Unfortunately, even when drunk, the CEO showed no interest in him. Left with no choice, he staged photos and posted them online.
Unexpectedly, as soon as the news broke, the PR department swiftly intervened, and the public opinion failed to stir even the slightest ripple. The original character had no choice but to confront the CEO directly, shamelessly twisting the truth and demanding that the CEO take responsibility.
The CEO told him to send his resume to the company’s email.
The original character, who had been preparing to put on a tearful performance: “…”
After sending his resume, the CEO reviewed it and asked, “Can you accept a 007 work schedule?”
The original character: “?”
Fu Cen recalled the memory of that day—the domineering CEO sitting in his luxurious, spacious office, uttering each word of heartless capitalist rhetoric: “Although the annual salary we can offer here is only ten million, the company will provide you with the highest level of social insurance and housing fund, a thirteenth-month year-end bonus, high reimbursement rates, and top-tier medical services, with meals and accommodation covered.”
At that time, the original host hadn’t yet realized he was living the script of an overworked office drone. He choked back a sob and said, “Do you think I’m doing this for the money?”
The domineering CEO glanced at the prestigious university enrollment information on the resume and replied coldly and emotionlessly, “If you have any other demands, you can mention them.”
The original host immediately spoke up: “I want to become your nominal wife!”
The CEO pondered for two seconds: “Having a stable family relationship can indeed provide great support for a child’s growth.”
The original host: “You’re surprisingly considerate.”
They hadn’t even gotten married yet, and he was already thinking about children.
It wasn’t until he received the printed contract from the secretary and signed his name that the unscrupulous capitalist added, “The employment contract period is three years. During these three years, you will need to play the role of my wife while also helping Shen Sigu become a steady and reliable person. Additionally, before the agreement ends, you must ensure his academic performance ranks within the top three in his school.”
Shen Sigu, the CEO’s son, was five years old—a social butterfly and academic underachiever who thrived on chaos.
Remembering this was a melodramatic novel, Fu Cen couldn’t even muster the energy to criticize the original host’s method of climbing the social ladder.
After a moment of thought, he clarified his current identity: an overworked office drone with a 24/7, year-round job, juggling multiple roles as a nanny, childcare specialist, tutor, nutritionist, parenting planner, and wealthy socialite wife. His task was to transform the social butterfly child into a “steady and reliable” academic prodigy.
Task difficulty: five stars.
He also faced constant scheming from the CEO’s admirers and, in the second part of the story, would suffer brutal retaliation from the wealthy child, ending up dead on the streets—a high-risk scenario also rated five stars.
Fu Cen’s mentality shattered.
Why did he have to become an office drone even after transmigrating into a novel?!
He couldn’t just accept this fate. Where was the dignity in that? Where was the morality?
Fu Cen scrambled out of bed, sat at the desk, and started drafting a resignation letter. Just as he opened his phone to search for the proper format, a message appeared in the center of the screen:
[XX Bank] Card ending in 8652 made a payment of 13,580 yuan on the 2nd. Remaining balance: 98.79 yuan.
Fu Cen quickly changed his tune… Where was the address? Where were the contact details?
Tears as wide as noodles streamed down his beautiful, weary face.
A sudden knock on the door abruptly sounded, and Fu Cen immediately went on high alert, his gaze fixed on the source of the noise.
“Madam, are you asleep?”
Fu Cen wasn’t particularly eager to respond: Colleague, could you have some boundaries during off-hours?
The knocking persisted. Fu Cen’s eyes urgently scanned the room before finally landing on the intercom placed on the bedside table.
The mansion was too large; this intercom was likely used to conveniently summon the servants.
Fu Cen, who didn’t want to communicate face-to-face with anyone, picked up the intercom without hesitation.
“Hello?”
The voice sounded from every servant’s waist-worn intercom.
“Hello?” “Hello?” “Hello?” “Hello?” “Hello?”…
All the servants wearing intercoms stopped what they were doing, holding the devices in their hands, holding their breath as they awaited orders.
The knocking at the door paused noticeably. Aunt Wang responded through the intercom, “Yes, Madam.”
Fu Cen breathed a sigh of relief upon receiving a response. Not having to communicate face-to-face restored his sense of security.
“If… if there’s anything, you can contact me like this…” Fu Cen’s voice grew softer toward the end, and he immediately added thoughtfully, “To avoid unnecessary trips.”
With such a large mansion, running back and forth must be exhausting.
Outside the door, Aunt Wang’s eyes flickered with confusion. What was this madam up to now? In the past, she had been enthusiastic about ordering them around, making them run back and forth. But on the surface, she still replied respectfully, “Understood, Madam.”
Shortly after, a slightly hesitant voice came through the intercom, stating the purpose: “Madam, the young master is still outside being punished. In such cold winter weather, shouldn’t we…”
In the past, whenever they dared to plead for the young master, they would be scolded by the madam. But this time, there was no angry shouting from the other end—only silence from the intercom.
Fu Cen took a moment to process the words. The “young master” she mentioned was likely Shen Sigu.
Earlier that morning, the original owner had punished the five-year-old child for waking up thirty seconds late, using the excuse of disciplining laziness. The child was made to stand outside in the heavy snow and was not allowed to eat all day.
Looking outside, the sky had already turned dark, and the snow was falling heavier than before.
And that child had been standing in such conditions all day.
In the original plot, the malicious stepfather abused the child in various ways during his childhood. Even after the contract ended, he forced the child to say he couldn’t live without him, using this to cling to the domineering CEO. This caused the originally outgoing and sociable child to gradually become gloomy. As he grew up, he sought revenge, tormenting the original owner to the point of mental breakdown.
His hatred for himself was far more intense than that of the CEO’s admirers.
Although Fu Cen currently wanted to run away, leaving a five-year-old child standing outside in such weather would likely elevate the original owner’s actions to premeditated murder.
Just as the servant, having received no response for a long time, was about to leave, the door opened from the inside. A clear and pleasant voice came from behind her, saying, “T-take me there.”