Sheng Zhiyu’s appearance had lasted only three minutes, but it had already sent shockwaves through the Scumbag Gong Department.
On his way back to his desk, Qi Fan was relentlessly hounded for gossip.
“Fan-ge, am I seeing things? Was that the ‘High Mountain Flower’ from the White Moonlight Department? What was he looking for you for?”
“Cut the crap, didn’t you see his icy expression? He’s probably here to settle the score because of the instance collapse.”
“…Damn, I was too busy looking at his face, I didn’t notice his expression.”
“Qi-ge, he’s actually captivated our rival. Quick, tell us how you did it…”
The gossips surrounded Qi Fan like a wagging pack of tails, but he didn’t acknowledge a single one of them. It wasn’t until he walked to his workstation with a completely expressionless face that the “tails” looked at each other and slunk away, deflated.
They thought chatting about a rival’s gossip might lighten the mood regarding Qi-ge’s demotion, but their efforts were in vain.
After they dispersed, Xu Chenyi from the neighboring desk glanced over with a strange look. “…Qi Fan, are you smiling?”
“Am I?” Qi Fan sat back lazily and began typing his transfer information into the screen.
Xu Chenyi: “Boss Xiao was just here sighing over your situation this morning. If he saw that look on your face, he’d kick you.”
Qi Fan: “Oh.”
Xu Chenyi: “…What did the ‘High Mountain Flower’ say to you to make you this happy?”
After filling out the final bits of information, Qi Fan didn’t answer. He packed his things and decisively bid farewell to his desk.
Then came a chorus of wails: “Fan-ge—!”
The sound gave Xu Chenyi a headache. “Stop howling.”
Your Fan-ge is leaving quite happily.
Looking at the empty seat beside him, Xu Chenyi thought for a moment and pulled out his phone. The chat history was still stuck on the message Qi Fan sent the morning before entering the instance:
[If someone offered to buy my first night, how much should I charge?]
Xu Chenyi stared at it for a moment and let out a soft “Ah.”
No way… right?
The Appointment
At 8:00 PM, Qi Fan arrived at the door as agreed and rang the bell.
After a full three minutes of silence just as he thought Sheng Zhiyu hadn’t arrived the door opened. A wave of misty, warm humidity from a recent shower hit him, carrying a faint but crisp scent of citrus.
Sheng Zhiyu’s hair was half-wet, swept back to reveal his stunning features. He was wearing only a soft bathrobe. The light from the foyer fell on his pale skin, making him look as though he were coated in a thin layer of glaze.
Qi Fan’s eyes darkened imperceptibly. Just as he was about to speak, the person inside commanded: “Go take a shower.”
The tone was calm, showing no nervousness or irritability.
Qi Fan followed him in. Though it was a layout he had seen before, the different atmosphere added a layer of unfamiliar ambiguity. He tilted his lips slightly. “In such a hurry to get to the main event?”
Sheng Zhiyu walked to the bedside and checked the time on his phone. “I have something to do later.”
Qi Fan paused while unbuttoning his coat. “Something urgent?”
“Not really, just an appointment.” Sheng Zhiyu tapped the screen twice before locking it. “There are two hours left.”
Since he was moving to a new department tomorrow, any business had to be squeezed into tonight.
Qi Fan tossed his coat onto the armchair. Just as Sheng Zhiyu looked up, the face hailed as the “top card” of the Scumbag Department was already pressing close. Warm breath fanned over Sheng Zhiyu’s skin.
Qi Fan’s hand landed unobtrusively on Sheng Zhiyu’s hip, gently brushing his waist. His thin lips pressed against Sheng Zhiyu’s, lingering and grinding softly. It was a kiss that felt entirely out of place for a “playboy scumbag”, it could almost be called pure.
Qi Fan whispered into his ear, “Fine. Wait for me.” Then, he turned and entered the bathroom.
Sheng Zhiyu stood rooted to the spot, his damp, red lips pressed together. A faint flush appeared on his cheeks whether from the lingering steam of his bath or something else.
So practiced. As expected of a scumbag.
The Transaction
Fifteen minutes later, Qi Fan emerged with wet hair. As he pushed the door open, Sheng Zhiyu caught the belt of his bathrobe.
Qi Fan pulled the towel from his head and allowed himself to be pushed onto the bed by Sheng Zhiyu’s slight force. He propped himself up with his palms, letting the robe loosen to reveal his firm chest.
Sheng Zhiyu knelt on the bed and leaned over. A faint scent of wine drifted down. Qi Fan raised an eyebrow. “Before we get started, I’d like to talk to you. But… did you drink?”
Sheng Zhiyu covered Qi Fan’s lips with his palm.
“Shh.” The sweet scent of wine mingled with his breath. Sheng Zhiyu narrowed his clear eyes, suddenly looking like a fox. “I don’t want to hear your voice. So, don’t talk.”
…
It had to be said that Qi Fan was an exceptionally cooperative bed partner. Without a command to speak, all Sheng Zhiyu heard was his heavy breathing which was more torturous to the nerves than anything else.
Sheng Zhiyu’s suppressed emotions finally began to crumble. He pushed against Qi Fan’s shoulder. “Don’t pant in my ear.”
The response was a low, faint chuckle. “No talking, no panting. You’re hard to please.”
Sheng Zhiyu’s eyelashes trembled. “…Who asked you to ‘please’ me?”
“I wonder.” Qi Fan propped himself up and pulled him into his arms. “Sheng Zhiyu, are you drunk or not?”
Seeing his silence, Qi Fan wasn’t in a hurry. He slowly coaxed a low, whimpering sound out of him.
“I’m not. I only had two glasses,” Sheng Zhiyu gritted out, trying to hold onto his crumbling rationality. He didn’t realize that his suppressed voice sounded exactly like a kitten whimpering.
“Mhm.” Then, he heard Qi Fan laugh. “Good that you aren’t drunk.”
Just a “Bed Partner”
Two hours later, the alarm on the phone rang punctually. Qi Fan reached out to turn it off. When he turned back, Sheng Zhiyu was already wearing his shirt, his expression as cold and calm as usual.
If not for the faint redness at the corners of his eyes, he didn’t look like someone who had just come off a bed. He held out his hand to Qi Fan. “Give me my phone.”
Qi Fan leaned toward him, handing over the phone. “It’s late. Where are you going? Shall I drop you off?”
His wet hair had dried over the last two hours, looking fluffy and messy in a lazy, dazed way—like a satiated cat wagging its tail.
Sheng Zhiyu frowned at him and put the phone in his pocket. “No need. Contact me next time I need you.”
He turned to leave. Qi Fan, finally snapping out of it at the exceptionally cold tone, grabbed his sleeve.
“Sheng Zhiyu?” He stood up. “What do you mean ‘contact me next time you need me’?”
Sheng Zhiyu pulled his hand away. “How else do you usually find your bed partners?”
A cold, dead silence spread through the room. Qi Fan’s face darkened instantly.
“You and I… we are…” The words seemed to be ground out from between his teeth. “…bed partners?”
“Isn’t that what you chose?” Sheng Zhiyu was unmoved. “You don’t lack money; you want a ‘relationship’.”
He composedly put on his coat and gave Qi Fan a faint, distant smile before leaving. “However, I misunderstood you before. Your technique is quite good. See you next time.”
The curt, concise ending fell on Qi Fan’s ears along with the sound of the closing door. It wasn’t loud, but it was enough to brew an extreme, dark mood. Qi Fan sat on the bed for a long time, a cold sneer slowly spreading across his face.
The New Mission: Rebel with a Cause
Demotion was a punishment, but for Sheng Zhiyu, other than a change in office location, there was no difference. He moved fast and accepted new instances even faster.
Lin Weiyu sighed at his “comeback” energy. “You really are the king of overachievers. What’s with this ‘ready to slaughter the newbie village’ vibe?”
“The Section Chief is waiting for me to return to the White Moonlight Department.” Sheng Zhiyu was seriously reading the requirements of the Supporting Character Department. “The difficulty here is low, and the performance points are too few. I can’t waste time.”
Lin Weiyu gave a long “Oh,” then paused as he looked at him. “Xiao Yu, wait.”
Sheng Zhiyu walked a few steps and looked back. “Follow me. Why are you spacing out?”
Lin Weiyu examined his face carefully. “I thought you’d be haggard from overworking, but why do you look so… glowing?”
Sheng Zhiyu frowned. “Glowing? What do you mean?”
“Er, it’s a saying,” Lin Weiyu said mysteriously. “It describes someone whose complexion looks very… nourished.”
Sheng Zhiyu: “…”
Lin Weiyu leaned in. “Did something good happen last night?”
Sheng Zhiyu went silent for two seconds, then walked quickly into the workstation and scanned his iris. “Shut up. Get to work.”
Lin Weiyu sighed. Yep, definitely the same old overachiever.
This time, Sheng Zhiyu didn’t repeat his previous mistake. He strictly performed the security scan and fully synchronized his appearance with the system before entering the instance.
After a bout of intense dizziness, he opened his eyes to the sound of flowing water. The blurriness faded to reveal a mirror.
The young man in the mirror: Eighteen years old, with individualistic light purple hair parted 70/30, and a sparkling chain dangling from his ear.
Every identity in the Bureau is adjusted according to the plot and world-building, but the underlying facial structure comes from the soul of the transmigrator. In other words, this eighteen-year-old identity was Sheng Zhiyu’s actual face at eighteen.
Unfortunately, Sheng Zhiyu wasn’t this “alternative” at eighteen, so it took him a while to process that this was himself.
Very good. Very rebellious.
He turned off the faucet. As he turned to leave, he suddenly smelled an exceptionally strong fragrance. It was a floral scent, so intense it was like ten bottles of perfume had been smashed in front of him—it was stifling.
Then, another boy walked in, clutching the back of his neck. He seemed semi-conscious, but he accurately collapsed toward Sheng Zhiyu.
Sheng Zhiyu caught him. Before he could speak, the person in his arms said:
“Xiao Yu, please mark me.”