Bai Ying ultimately didn’t arrive late. He rushed and finally made it to the meeting spot before three o’clock, and that bouquet of heavy-petaled mini chrysanthemums was presented as a gift to the business partner. Once everything was settled, he went home, dug out the boxed meal Tan Ming had prepared for him, heated it up, ate it, then reverted to his original form and slipped into the bathroom like a flash. After soaking in the bath, he collapsed into bed and fell asleep.
His irregular work hours had trained Bai Ying to fall asleep anytime, anywhere. He suspected that one day he might even evolve to sleep standing up. But his sleep quality had never been good; he rarely woke up feeling refreshed. Every morning, he felt like his body had been hollowed out.
The next day, before dawn, Bai Ying stood in front of the mirror adjusting his outfit. The client wanted them to look professional and specifically required suits.
Bai Ying thought wearing a suit just made him look like an insurance salesman…
With his build and looks, he wouldn’t look bad in anything, but once he put on the shirt and trousers, topped with the suit jacket and his somewhat listless expression, he was the epitome of a corporate drone drained dry by work.
Bai Ying patted his cheeks, trying to perk himself up.
“Two more days until the holiday!” Bai Ying clenched his fist, cheering himself on.
He gnawed on a small roll before heading out, also hauling two boxes of promotional materials that had just been delivered the day before and had to be taken home for now. The neighborhood was pitch black, with few windows lit up, and only a handful of streetlights glowing lonely on the empty streets. It was just past four.
Xiao Lu’s car was already parked outside the complex. Bai Ying had told him not to come and to sleep in, but he had driven over anyway.
Lu Changjun spotted him from afar, got out, and took the boxes from Bai Ying’s shoulders, stuffing them into the trunk.
“Senior, have you eaten? There’s food in the car if you want to grab something,” Lu Changjun said as he drove.
“I have.” Though it was just a small roll, and maybe because it was dry and stuck in his throat, Bai Ying had no appetite now.
It was hard to eat well during work.
The streets were empty at this hour, and the car sped unimpeded toward the mall. It was Saturday—some people were sleeping in, others had pulled all-nighters, and some still had to go to work.
When they arrived, Duan Yunjin was already there, along with some temporary hires. Before the mall opened, the workers hurriedly set up the booth, and Bai Ying’s team had to help out too. Budget was tight, and they were counted as free labor.
“Let’s go over the process again…” Duan Yunjin pulled the host aside to review the flow.
Bai Ying instructed the temps on how to greet fans, maintain order, and rehearse potential emergencies. With crowds, things could change unpredictably; without practice, it would descend into chaos.
In the end, their core message was: Practice today, small issues are fine, but tomorrow absolutely cannot go wrong!
The main event was tomorrow.
The celebrities wouldn’t stand there for two days like them. The two leads of the web drama would arrive tomorrow afternoon for just two hours.
Even though the stars weren’t there yet, some fans had shown up today. Bai Ying worked with the drama team’s promo staff, barely getting a break as fans trickled in constantly.
If today was like this, who knew how chaotic tomorrow would be…
When the client was driving them to the brink of despair, they griped that it was just a flop drama, but even the most obscure stars received adoration beyond what ordinary people could imagine.
The mall opened at eight. Building A, where the booth was, didn’t operate twenty-four hours and locked up at ten. Bai Ying stood from eight in the morning until ten at night, barely drinking any water, let alone eating. Yue Ge and Xiao Lu offered to take over, but Bai Ying firmly refused. How could he let an intern cover for him?
The result was that Bai Ying felt like he was about to drop dead.
Empty stomach, empty head…
Back home, Bai Ying turned down the dinner Tan Ming sent. The moment he entered, he shifted back to snake form, his clothes scattering like dropped gear.
The white snake squeezed out from the pile, its swimming path feeble.
He slithered into the kitchen and into a slightly ajar drawer containing a box of quail eggs. Bai Ying felt he didn’t even have the energy to chew—good thing he was a snake. He swallowed a small quail egg whole.
As he swallowed, sleepiness suddenly hit, and he passed out right in the drawer, with a bit of his tail dangling outside.
As if he could sleep until the end of time.
…Yeah right!
The phone that had fallen with his clothes at the entryway blared relentlessly at the set time. The death-knell alarm made the little snake reflexively rear up, slamming his head straight into the drawer top. Tears welled up instantly; Bai Ying felt his already flat head was even flatter now.
It hurt!
The white snake crawled out teary-eyed and swallowed two more quail eggs. He hadn’t washed up yesterday due to crashing so suddenly, but the cleanliness-loving little snake lacked the energy for a full tub. He filled the sink instead and made do with a soak.
Cleaned up, Bai Ying reluctantly shifted back to human form. He’d been full as a snake, but human again, he was hungry. Being human was tough—eating a lot and still having to work.
Right, work.
He still had to go to work today.
Bai Ying calculated: he’d been working nonstop for half a month. If not for the holiday tomorrow, he’d want to hang himself at the company door.
He didn’t even have the energy for anger; Bai Ying felt like a massive bundle of resentment. He donned his corporate drone skin and slowly, slowly made his way to the complex entrance.
Once in Xiao Lu’s car, Bai Ying slumped, his head lolling powerlessly against the window.
Lu Changjun asked cautiously, “Senior, are you okay?”
“Alive,” Bai Ying said, proving he still had breath.
Just one breath left.
That breath had super endurance. Bai Ying didn’t know how he survived the even busier Sunday. By the end, he’d gone numb, his brain a stalled gear. He felt like a machine snake, operating purely on pre-programmed instructions.
As the leads’ stage time neared, fans packed the area. Suddenly, a familiar figure with a work badge pushed through.
“…Lin Assistant?” Bai Ying recognized her quickly; they’d met recently.
She was the web drama male lead’s assistant—the one who’d relayed the roadshow message Friday and wanted to add a segment.
Lin Assistant said apologetically, “Teacher Bai, we’re short-staffed backstage. Could you help out there?”
Bai Ying blankly pointed at himself.
Before he could speak, Duan Yunjin cut in unhappily, “Xiao Bai has to coordinate the front. Why send him backstage? Just grab a temp.”
No matter how you sliced it, site order was priority. Bai Ying was one of the most familiar with the flow and coordination. Who’d replace him?
Lin Assistant looked troubled. “Sorry, but it’s Brother Zhang’s call.”
Lots of Zhangs, but her “Brother Zhang” was undoubtedly the drama’s male lead, Zhang Xunyi.
Duan Yunjin spotted Zhang Xunyi from afar, shielded by security amid fans’ deafening screams of his name. What a scene.
She glanced at the heavily made-up male star, then at the naturally unadorned Xiao Bai beside her, and understood.
Someone’s full makeup couldn’t compete with another’s bare face; afraid of being upstaged.
The weaker party had no say against the client. Once Lin Assistant said it was the lead’s order, there was no negotiating.
Bai Ying patted Duan Yunjin’s shoulder. “Yunjin-jie, I’ll hand off to Xiao Lu. Just find him if anything comes up.”
Duan Yunjin was annoyed but said no more.
Bai Ying felt off too, but not about being reassigned. Backstage was easier than front-of-house chaos. But knowing how grueling it was made him guilty for foisting his duties on Xiao Lu, even if it wasn’t his fault.
Lu Changjun agreed readily and urged Bai Ying to rest when he could.
Backstage wasn’t shorthanded long; Lin Assistant soon brought a mask—clearly from that Zhang guy.
Backstage was semi-open, fans passing by.
Bai Ying took it and put it on. No objections; no energy for them.
He quickly realized “shorthanded” was an excuse. Staff were assigned; his plan was solid. But he became a utility man, shuttling wherever needed.
He dashed around the cramped space, calls for him nonstop.
“Xiao Bai-ge, help steady this equipment!”
Bai Ying steadied it.
“Bro, take this over for me.”
Bai Ying delivered it.
“Young bro, come lift this box with me.”
Bai Ying lifted with the unclear senior.
Frontstage buzzed as the leads arrived, peaking the hype. But the excitement wasn’t his; the louder, the riskier errors. As planner, relief came only at the end.
Amid busyness, Bai Ying worried for Xiao Lu. Big firms ignored flop promos, but for Zhonghe, it was major business. Critical moment, and Xiao Lu was covering—Bai Ying fretted.
Fortunately, no mishaps; the event ended smoothly.
Bai Ying, on edge half the day, finally exhaled. Xiao Lu was excellent, as expected.
***
After the leads left, the booth cleared fast—fans swarming after them.
Bai Ying rushed to Xiao Lu first.
“Any issues? Get bumped? Too tired?” Questions spilled out instinctively. Crowd control was brutal; Bai Ying had bruises from past fan blocks.
Duan Yunjin, beside Xiao Lu, said, “What could go wrong? Kid’s built like a tank. We can pile more work on him next time!”
She slapped Xiao Lu’s back—solid thwacks.
Bai Ying laughed.
“Some gear can come down. Let’s help; we might wrap early today,” Bai Ying said.
“I got it; you two rest,” Lu Changjun said, proving his stamina.
“No showboating!” Duan Yunjin slapped him again, exasperated. “Come on, work together, rest together!”
As team lead, Duan Yunjin called shots. Lu Changjun knew Bai Ying listened to her, so he shut up, plotting next chances to shine.
But before reaching backstage, a stranger—a drama crew member—stopped them. He scanned them, pointed at Bai Ying. “You, come here!”
Bai Ying blankly pointed at himself.
Duan Yunjin frowned. “What now? Event’s wrapping.”
Crew had mostly left; they handled cleanup. Dismantle booth, and they could go.
“Of course it’s something!” the man snapped impatiently. “So much talk?”
Duan Yunjin scowled deeper. Bai Ying hurried, “Drama side might have instructions. I’ll go; handle this, thanks.”
Lu Changjun grabbed his wrist. “I’ll find you later, senior.”
Bai Ying patted his hand reassuringly.
Bai Ying followed the crew member through staff passages to a small room piled with gifts. Hearing the commanding tone, Bai Ying disbelievingly pointed at himself again. “Me, move all this to the car?”
“Who else?” The crew eyed him oddly. “We’re short.”
Fan gifts carpeted the floor—hundreds in the small space. No cart, just borrowed baskets from shops. Multiple trips needed.
“Me alone?” No way.
The crew pointed outside. “Her too.”
Bai Ying turned to see Lin Assistant jogging back from her last load. Spotting him, she froze. “Teacher Bai, why are you…”
She hadn’t finished speaking when she turned to the drama crew members. “Didn’t you say you needed help?”
“The interviews are still going on outside. Brother Zhang is signing autographs for fans, and everyone from the crew has gone over there. I’m about to head there too. Who do we have available right now?”
If they didn’t have enough people on their side, they’d just have to grab someone from the other party. After all, once Party A gave the order, Party B would go to the ends of the earth before the final payment hit their account.
Lin Assistant said, “Then I’ll just handle it myself.”
Bai Ying replied, “No need. Let’s move them together.”
Without waiting for Lin Assistant to say anything else, he started loading the gift boxes into the basket. Lin Assistant walked up beside him and whispered an apology.
Bai Ying felt like ever since he’d met Lin Assistant, she was either apologizing or on her way to apologize, but she was really just the messenger. Those whimsical orders came from other people.
Bai Ying’s thoughts wandered to all sorts of things—some about himself, some about others. He remembered picking up a client’s kid from school, scattering rose petals from the second floor for a client’s Valentine’s Day proposal as part of the atmosphere team, and even how some industries were even crazier, with people taking exams for their clients. Suddenly, moving gifts didn’t seem like such a big deal.
It was just a bit of bad luck.
Bai Ying and Lin Assistant made about ten trips together before they were halfway done.
His efficiency was a bit higher than Lin Assistant’s, after all—he was a demon, so his stamina was naturally better. Gradually, their trips fell out of sync. On the eleventh trip, Bai Ying returned to the small room alone and discovered someone leaning against the wall outside.
Someone who really shouldn’t have been there.
Bai Ying froze.
Qin Juanshu, whom he hadn’t seen in days, leaned impatiently against the wall, his expression slightly darkened. He always looked like he was in a bad mood. Bai Ying figured no worker wasn’t afraid of their boss, especially one with a temper that made him want to turn tail and run.
But Qin Juanshu had come specifically to catch him.
He already knew the whole story of why Bai Ying was there and opened with mockery. “Are you an idiot? Letting them push you around like this?”
Is that what you think?
Bai Ying bristled in anger for a moment.
He couldn’t afford to cross Party A, and he couldn’t afford to cross the boss either. He was at the bottom of the food chain.
Bai Ying meekly continued moving the gifts.
But before he could enter the room, Qin Juanshu reached out and stopped him. “Stop working. Go home.”
Bai Ying sighed softly, hoping the boss had some sense and wouldn’t make trouble for the employees. “This is Party A’s request. If Party A isn’t happy, it’ll affect our business.”
“That crappy drama crew?” Qin Juanshu scoffed. “I can call their investors right now. Do they dare to be unhappy?”
Bai Ying fell silent for a moment.
He wasn’t clear on Qin Juanshu’s exact background, but Qin Juanshu had the surname Qin from Minghong Group. If he revealed his identity, the crew probably wouldn’t dare object, just like they didn’t dare object to Party A.
But…
“If you step in now, they’ll take it out on the others.” Bai Ying grabbed Qin Juanshu’s hand as he reached for his phone.
If the higher-ups got upset over this minor issue, they wouldn’t blame themselves—they’d take it out on the underlings. Bai Ying didn’t really care if that arrogant crew member suffered a bit, but he worried about others who might get caught in the crossfire, like Lin Assistant.
Qin Juanshu could guess what those people were thinking.
He just didn’t care. It wouldn’t affect him, and he had the capital to act recklessly.
Maybe out of fear, Bai Ying’s grip on his wrist wasn’t strong. He could still make that call, have the investors give the crew a talking-to—or pick a different number and yank that flop of a drama off the platform entirely. Or he could just turn and leave, letting this ungrateful employee keep getting bossed around.
But Qin Juanshu did the one thing he thought was least likely—maybe he’d been infected by the idiot.
He snatched the basket from Bai Ying’s hands, grinding his teeth. “Fine, I’ll do it. Happy now?”
In a few months, he’d deal with each of them one by one, making sure they never saw it coming.
“Go rest.” Qin Juanshu said coldly, reaching out to yank the mask off Bai Ying’s face too. “Why are you wearing a mask? Isn’t it hot covering up like that?”
Bai Ying had been bustling around with the mask on, his breathing labored, and his face had long since turned red from the heat.
For some inexplicable reason, Qin Juanshu brushed his cheek. It was soft and hot, and the spot where his fingers touched felt scorched, as if licked by flames.
