The most important step in becoming a pet snake was to find a suitable owner for oneself!
Not long after Bai Ying made up his mind, his brain started to stutter again, like a gear rusted over from too much use and unable to turn. For a moment, many blurry figures flashed through his mind, but none of them solidified into a definite image.
Who should he find…
Even after taking a shower and climbing into bed, Bai Ying still hadn’t come up with a candidate. Perhaps because he’d spent too long in the steamy bathroom, Bai Ying felt his body grow even hotter. He rolled around irritably under the covers a few times, and suddenly his loose pajamas sagged. A white snake as thick as a child’s wrist crawled out from inside, coiled its body neatly, rested its oval head on top, and fell asleep hidden in the bedding.
If he couldn’t think of anyone, then he wouldn’t think at all.
But since he hadn’t yet found a long-term meal ticket, he still had to go to work tomorrow.
When the sky was just barely light, the Little White Snake jolted awake from its sleep. It lay there dazed for several minutes before remembering that it didn’t need to get up so early today. Bai Ying groggily extended a section of his snake tail, coiled it around the phone on the bedside table, set an alarm for noon, and then coiled around the phone to sleep again.
Perhaps the second bout of sleep was poor quality, because when Bai Ying got up, he didn’t just feel dizzy—his head had started to throb faintly.
The Little White Snake uncomfortably bit its own tail.
“Overtime is really harmful,” Bai Ying thought.
But not going to work meant starving, so after lazing in bed for a few minutes, Bai Ying reluctantly crawled out from under the covers. As soon as the white snake left the bedding, it transformed back into human form. It was early spring, and the room temperature was still quite low. His naked body shivered involuntarily upon touching the cold air. Bai Ying leaned out, grabbed the clothes from the bedside table, and pulled them over his head.
“Why do I feel both hot and cold?” Bai Ying sensed that his body wasn’t quite right.
In the end, he attributed it to having just emerged from the warm covers and not yet adjusting to the room temperature. After all, he was a demon. Though not particularly powerful, his physical constitution was still better than an ordinary person’s, and problems rarely arose.
However, the weather forecast did say today’s temperature was several degrees lower than yesterday’s—classic cold snap in early spring. Bai Ying decided to throw on a trench coat over his suit later.
After washing up and getting dressed neatly in front of the mirror, Bai Ying rummaged through the fridge for something to eat. He’d gotten up a bit late. Duan Yunjin had messaged him ten minutes ago, saying she was already taking Xiao Lu to confirm the material samples offline, and that Bai Ying should hurry to the company.
So in the end, he only tore open a bag of dry bread and swallowed it down with plain water.
A cold wind howled outside. The upturned collar of his trench coat barely blocked some of the chill. Fortunately, the metro station was just a few steps away. The midday metro wasn’t too crowded, and Bai Ying finally found a seat. The fiberglass chair was ice-cold, and Bai Ying felt his body alternating between hot and cold.
Bai Ying figured it was all from the wind outside. Once he got to the company, everything would be fine.
However, upon arriving at the company and seeing the art colleague’s utterly deadpan face along with the client’s new demands, Bai Ying felt himself swaying unsteadily.
“Isn’t this version pretty good? What needs changing?” Bai Ying leaned in puzzled toward the art colleague’s computer. The design was quaint and elegant, highlighting the theme perfectly—wasn’t it suitable?
“Everything needs changing,” the art colleague said in agony. “They want a color that’s more eye-catching, younger, more vibrant, more modern.”
Bai Ying was stunned. “But the promo is for a historical costume drama, right?”
“Yes,” the art colleague said, “but they’re the client.”
Bai Ying had no rebuttal.
The art colleague added, “Once the design changes, the production process for the materials has to change too.”
Bai Ying went to contact Duan Yunjin again. After a bout of impotent rage, she capitulated as well.
The art colleague handled the design, while Bai Ying managed communication with the client. He also had to relay the client’s latest demands to Duan Yunjin from time to time. By the end of the afternoon, his temples throbbed, and his head stabbed with pain intermittently.
After hanging up the phone once more, Bai Ying noticed the art colleague looking at him with concern.
“What’s wrong?” Bai Ying asked. His head still hurt, but his voice remained mild.
“Are you not feeling well?” the colleague said. “Why don’t you take a break?”
Bai Ying smiled. “I’m fine. It’s probably just from all the overtime lately—I’m a bit low on energy.”
Their team currently had only four people. The art colleague hadn’t started work yet since the client’s requirements weren’t finalized, and Xiao Lu was just an intern. So he and Duan Yunjin had pulled the most overtime, with Bai Ying, thinking himself a demon, always staying a bit later than Duan Yunjin.
The art colleague muttered, “We’ve been busting our asses for half a month, and the boss hasn’t even shown his face.”
Bai Ying paused.
If the colleague hadn’t mentioned it, he’d almost forgotten he had a direct superior.
The structure of his advertising company was incredibly simple. Three teams handled different business lines, reporting directly to the big boss with no middle management. After the big boss happily sold the company and took the money, Minghong Group parachuted in a President Qin to manage them.
Yet this President Qin was known only by name, never seen in person.
Duan Yunjin had gossiped privately with them: “I hear Minghong Group is also called Qin Group. All the top executives are family. Our President Qin is probably from there too, right?”
The art colleague whispered grumpily, “Someone sent to manage our little dump of a company must be some fringe family member.”
Xiao Lu raised an eyebrow. “Not necessarily.”
Bai Ying’s impression of the new boss was limited to his colleagues’ gossip.
“It’s better if he doesn’t show up—we have more freedom,” Bai Ying said.
The art colleague’s resentment eased a bit, but he was still indignant that someone could skip work for half a month while they slaved away.
“Forget about it,” Bai Ying comforted him. “I’m going to grab some coffee. Want to come?”
The colleague shook his head and showed Bai Ying the milk tea on his desk. Bai Ying went to the break room alone. Even though he’d slept for over ten hours vengefully the night before, he still felt groggy. He decided to have some coffee to perk up.
Hot coffee poured out from the machine, and just looking at the color made his tongue tingle with bitterness. Bai Ying tossed in a sugar cube. After a long mental struggle, he resisted adding a second.
Bitter is good. Bitter perks you up.
Bai Ying took a small sip, and it felt like his soul was about to flee his body from the bitterness.
His steps felt unsteady as he headed back to the office. Perhaps from low spirits, or maybe because the coffee with just one sugar cube was far too bitter, Bai Ying stared ahead but, in a daze, completely failed to notice the figure in front of him. He collided headfirst into the person.
His hand shook, and he instinctively protected himself. The cup tilted forward—leaving him unscathed, but splashing coffee all over the front of the other person.
A cold, stern gaze landed instantly on his face.
Followed by a voice that sounded like it was laughing from anger: “Do the employees these days resort to such clumsy tricks to get attention?”
Bai Ying didn’t understand and returned a bewildered look.
The man before him was in his early twenties, still young, but the crisp suit fit him impeccably. Tall and straight-backed, handsome in appearance, yet not approachable at all—his brows were sharp as knife edges, and his pitch-black eyes concealed a fierce glint. At that moment, he fixed Bai Ying with this somewhat ferocious face and an unmistakably furious expression.
A large, obvious dark stain marred his clothes, and the documents in his hand bore glaring coffee stains. But his anger wasn’t entirely due to being doused by Bai Ying.
Bai Ying wasn’t intimidated by the man’s expression. His brain wasn’t turning properly right now; he couldn’t think too much.
He just felt that this face looked a bit familiar.
After a good while, he finally remembered where he’d seen it.
This face had appeared on Duan Yunjin’s phone screen—the group executive photo she’d barely managed to find.
Their new boss, Qin Juanshu.
***
Ever since his own father had dragged him back from abroad, Qin Juanshu had been harboring a bellyful of rage.
That fire hadn’t dimmed with time; instead, it burned fiercer.
Last night, he’d even cursed out his father, hurling every foul word he could think of. His father hadn’t held back either. The discord between the Qin Family head and his only son was no secret in high society. The pair were like fire and water—unable to meet without exchanging barbs over the phone, and prone to beating each other senseless in person.
“I’m not interested in the Qin Family business,” Qin Juanshu sneered. “Tomorrow, I’ll change my surname. We won’t contact each other anymore.”
Qin Chi said only one thing: “Chen Yi secretly gave birth to a child back then.”
“You—” A string of expletives poured from Qin Juanshu’s mouth.
Once he’d vented enough, Qin Chi continued: “If you return to the Qin Family, I’ll never acknowledge him in this lifetime. If you don’t come back, everything in the Qin Family will fall into the hands of the person you hate most.”
The Qin Family tied to Qin Chi disgusted Qin Juanshu, but he couldn’t tolerate it falling to some illegitimate child even more.
Qin Juanshu returned, cursing all the while.
“You’ve been managing your mother’s legacy abroad all these years. You’re unfamiliar with Minghong, and Minghong’s people won’t accept you. If I hand you Minghong’s core operations directly, your uncles won’t agree. I acquired a small company recently—start there,” Qin Chi said.
Qin Juanshu cursed him: “Useless. Can’t even keep your own brothers in check.”
Qin Chi had no patience for his rebellious son and hung up decisively.
Qin Juanshu itched for a real in-person brawl with Qin Chi. After stewing in frustration overnight, he deigned to take over what he saw as a rundown little company the next morning.
However, he didn’t inspect his employees right away. Instead, he got some materials from Minghong, familiarized himself briefly with the mess of a company’s status, and headed to the office area while reviewing its recent business.
He hadn’t gone far when someone barreled into him full-force.
He’d been focused on the documents and not watching the road. And the person with just a cup of coffee in hand hadn’t been watching either?
Qin Juanshu couldn’t help but sneer. That was how Chen Yi had risen back then.
Disgust and disdain filled him, and the mocking words spilled out: “Do the employees these days resort to such clumsy tricks to get attention?”
Only then did Qin Juanshu clearly see the face of the person who’d crashed into him.
What an innocent expression, with slightly reddened eyes at the corners. Not bad-looking at all—paired with that demeanor, it was pitiable enough to stir sympathy. If his scumbag biological father were here, he’d probably lose control of himself again.
Qin Juanshu recognized this face; he’d seen it recently in the employee files. The ID photo showed the same pure, innocent look. Not only did the person have the surname Bai, but his face was the very picture of a delicate little white flower.
The words that came out carried a thick whiff of white lotus: “Sorry, I’ll compensate you.”
The voice was clear, with a soft ending note—like he was coquettish no matter what he said. Good looks paired with a pleasant voice.
Qin Juanshu thought maliciously that this must have given him the confidence to seduce others. After lucking into a big group, he’d set his sights on his direct superior. Unfortunately, anyone who could only enter that dump of a company clearly lacked vision, resorting to such a crude seduction tactic.
It wasn’t entirely crude. If it had been someone else facing that pitiful face, they might have gladly accepted the deliberate advances.
If he’d picked the right target, it would be an efficient method of seduction.
Too bad he’d chosen wrong.
Qin Juanshu despised people who took shortcuts and had no qualms about making them vanish from his sight entirely.
Just as he planned to contact HR to fire Bai Ying, he suddenly noticed Bai Ying’s fingers gripping the paper cup.
Slender joints, evenly pale, only the tips faintly pink. The cup wall was visibly dented, and the jade-like fingers trembled slightly, as if quite uneasy.
…Looks like he wasn’t very skilled at this seduction business after all.
He was this nervous.
Qin Juanshu considered his iron heart inexplicably softening a touch.
But he still wanted no ties to someone with ulterior motives. No longer in the mood for the office area, he coldly tossed out “No need” and turned toward his executive office with its attached lounge.
Once the man’s figure completely vanished from sight, Bai Ying suddenly let out a breath of relief.
That was close.
Bai Ying felt a lingering fear.
Those clothes looked expensive. He’d almost lost this month’s salary—or even several months’ worth!
Good thing the boss was a decent guy.
But what did he mean by “clumsy tricks”?
Bai Ying looked bewildered. He pondered for a long time but couldn’t figure it out. In the end, he concluded that his superior must have been referring to someone else in the file—someone who had nothing to do with him.
Since it had nothing to do with him, there was no need to overthink it. With a sense of relief after narrowly escaping disaster, Bai Ying carried his nearly empty coffee cup back to the office.
