Chapter 21: Domination

Recently, Moran Technology had parachuted in a male secretary who followed Chi Mo wherever he went. The man didn’t make a fuss, didn’t laugh, and didn’t talk much—not that he was mute, just rather quiet.

Logically speaking, his presence should have been low-key, but his face was incredibly striking, drawing stares wherever he went.

Without real skills, such a sudden appointment would draw criticism. Even the most good-tempered employees couldn’t help but harbor some quiet resentment.

Li Ran, who had previously visited Moran Technology, now came to work at the company. For two days, he followed Chi Mo in and out of the top-floor offices, and the entire company buzzed with discussion.

When they heard Li Ran call Chi Mo “Bro,” everyone knew he was a connected insider.

No wonder he got parachuted in.

But when they learned Li Ran’s salary was only 1,700, no one could believe it.

When did Chi Mo turn into such a capitalist? Even his own little brother got squeezed?!

For a company this big, running around pouring tea, delivering water, and carrying files all day—out of breath from rushing up and down stairs—it had to be worth at least 3,000, right?

Before Li Ran, the parachuted insider, could even make enemies, he had already garnered a crowd of older brothers and sisters who pitied him openly and secretly.

Li Ran found it strange. He had brewed coffee to Chi Mo’s taste in the pantry, adding milk but no sugar. When one of the older sisters came upstairs with two files for Chi Mo to sign, she spotted him and sighed pityingly.

“Sigh, the boss is too heartless.” She shook her head and murmured softly, “I haven’t seen a 1,700 salary since the day I graduated.”

Last month, without overtime, she’d made 25,000.

After knocking and entering the office, she switched to a crisp, professional demeanor, respectfully placing the files on the desk and waiting quietly for President Chi to sign.

They were busy, so Li Ran didn’t want to interrupt. He left the small counter and silently approached the desk, placing the prepared coffee on the coaster next to Chi Mo’s hand.

Chi Mo glanced at him.

The look meant Li Ran needed to speak up.

“…Bro.” Li Ran called out, reminding him not to forget the black coffee.

“Mm.” Chi Mo withdrew his gaze and opened the file from his subordinate.

Li Ran quietly went to the table by the floor-to-ceiling window and opened his summer homework.

His face was full of bitterness.

While waiting for Chi Mo to review and sign the files, the subordinate sister stole glances at Li Ran, thinking he looked like the most obedient little kitten—her heart melted.

She really wanted to pet his fluffy head.

She’d definitely share about President Chi’s little brother with her colleagues later! He was so adorable!

Li Ran stared at the problems he couldn’t solve, unable to spark any connection, and his thoughts began to wander unconsciously.

The night before last, when Chi Mo checked Li Ran’s homework, he was even stricter than the homeroom teacher. Classmate Li didn’t dare breathe.

When Chi Mo said not to call him Mr. Chi anymore but “Bro,” Li Ran found it hard to say. But Chi Mo wasn’t one to negotiate; he waited unhurriedly yet with an overwhelming presence. No one was sleeping until Li Ran spoke.

Luckily, Li Ran was used to obeying—it wasn’t hard.

Once he said “Bro,” Chi Mo responded, then lowered his eyes with a soft smile. Li Ran lay awake half the night after Chi Mo returned to his room.

It just felt… weird.

But not unpleasant.

The next morning when Chi Mo headed to work, Li Ran quickly stopped him: “Bro, can you not assign so much homework today? I want to find a summer job.”

Chi Mo asked, “What job?”

“The supermarket nearby.” To prove he wasn’t dumb or just dodging homework, Li Ran recounted his experience. “I worked there last year.”

“How much pay?”

“1,600.”

“Mm,” Chi Mo said. “I’ll give you 1,700. Come work for me at my company.”

A hundred more.

Work was surprisingly easy to find.

Li Ran decided on the spot: “Okay.”

After arriving at the company with Chi Mo, Li Ran hadn’t even asked what his job entailed or if he could handle it.

And why bring a backpack with summer homework to work?

After brewing coffee for Chi Mo for two days, Li Ran had pretty much figured out his taste: bitter stuff. Coffee with milk, but no sugar.

No sugar in any drinks.

Li Ran didn’t dare taste it.

“Wake up.” Chi Mo tapped the desk.

Li Ran jolted awake, leaning back in his chair and looking up at Chi Mo. “I wasn’t sleeping.”

“Might as well have been.” Chi Mo’s palm pressed down on the summer homework, sliding it half a circle to face him. He checked the few problems Li Ran had done. “Daydreaming about who?”

Li Ran slumped. “You.”

Chi Mo turned the homework back. Two out of twenty problems done. In a good mood, he said, “Take your time. No rush.”

A high school sophomore graduating to work a summer job at Chi Mo’s company—anyone hearing that would die of envy.

But best not to mention the salary.

Even factory work screwing bolts paid better than 1,700.

After two more days at the company, Li Ran realized Moran Technology was truly different from other companies.

Of course, there were employees during the day, but far fewer than at night.

These days, every evening at six, when Li Ran left with Chi Mo on time, he saw droves of people just arriving for work.

“Bro, why do they always come in at this time?” Li Ran vaguely remembered Chi Mo mentioning it before, but he’d forgotten the details. Back then, he’d just been a visitor, not familiar with the place. Now as an employee, he knew more and couldn’t hold back his curiosity. “No fixed hours? Then why do you come early and leave at dusk?”

Chi Mo pulled onto the road. “No overtime pay if I work nights.”

Paying himself extra was pointless.

“Bro, what do you mean?”

“Games and tech sometimes rely on inspiration. Constraining their time doesn’t produce good work. My requirement is simple: finish by the deadline I set. Daytime attendance doesn’t matter; pay is the same. If they start at six p.m., by law it’s overtime—1.5 times the base pay.”

“Two times on statutory holidays.”

Li Ran wasn’t quite sure. “Bro, so… everyone deliberately waits until evening to come in?”

“Mm.”

“You’re so rich, Bro.” His tone dripped with envy beyond words, especially that final “Bro”—fuller of admiration and hero-worship than all the previous ones.

Chi Mo smiled. “Mm.”

Today, Chi Mo got lucky—all green lights. When the Cullinan pulled into the garage at home, Li Ran asked, “Bro, after high school graduation, can I work at your company?”

Chi Mo patted his head. “Study hard. If you don’t get into college, you’ll suffer.”

“…Oh.”

Only after moving into the Chi Family home did Li Ran learn that Cheng Ai Mei and Ye Ze were often away.

Seeing them ten days a month was generous.

They left loaded with stuff; returned empty-handed.

Scammed clean.

Except for their old lives, the two elders gave everything.

Li Ran worried and nagged Chi Mo: Bro, aren’t you going to do something? Do something!

Chi Mo said, “They can’t even control their own son; I don’t have that power. Leave it.”

Li Ran had thought Cheng Ai Mei and Ye Ze were Chi Mo’s blood grandparents, surnames aside. From this talk, he learned the two elders were the parents of his little uncle’s family.

No blood relation.

Li Ran got it: “Grandpa and Grandma are your aunt’s parents.”

Chi Mo fell silent for a moment, unclear on his feelings about this “aunt,” and ambiguously said, “Sort of.”

Li Ran’s work life was quite leisurely.

It would be perfect if Chi Mo didn’t make him sit nearby doing summer homework.

But today, his job duties changed.

A while back, the first day Shen Shu saw Li Ran at the company, he’d happily said, “You’re here! I knew the Chi guy couldn’t hold out.”

Then asked Chi Mo, “What can your little one do? Paying for nothing?”

By then, he’d toned down his fiery enthusiasm to normal levels.

Talked just enough.

Chi Mo said, “Mind your own business.”

Yeah, what could he do? Li Ran wondered too.

Hearing 1,700—100 more than supermarket cashier—he’d jumped at it.

But he had no real skills…

As a capitalist, Chi Mo naturally had tasks for Li Ran.

That day, he sent Li Ran downstairs to distribute files and pass on a message.

Which meant talking to strangers.

Li Ran, who usually dreaded conversing with total strangers—even failing to haggle at the market—said he couldn’t do it. “No way, Bro. I’m no good at it. Tongue-tied. Send someone else… Bro.”

Chi Mo didn’t insist it had to be him or force it. He just said, “Succeed with one person, 100 yuan.”

“…Huh?”

“For the time before school starts, learn to talk to one new person a day in the company—100 yuan reward. Two people, 200. No cap.”

“Huh?!”

Chi Mo nodded. “Go on.”

So Li Ran went.

His steps light and floating.

The message: Speed it up, or else.

He reached the downstairs department without noting which one. Courage never showed, but the money was too good to pass up.

Once he appeared, no one could focus; all eyes on him. Several girls whispered, faces beaming like doting mothers.

Under those gazes, Li Ran’s limbs stiffened; not a word came out.

Then he spotted the sister who often delivered files upstairs. “Sis…”

His brain had fully crashed.

The sister clicked over in heels, looking at him fondly, thrilled to respond: “Little bro, spit it out! What’s up? Salary too low? We can talk to the boss!”

Li Ran didn’t know the others, so he just told her: “No… The boss says speed it up, keep dragging and you’re dead.”

The department went dead silent.

“That’s what my bro said… not me!” Li Ran quickly clarified.

He gave a slight bow to the crowd, then turned and bolted, not looking back.

Just before the elevator doors closed, he heard laughter erupt, along with “He’s so obedient,” the vibe warm and cheerful.

Seeing Li Ran’s cheeks flushed from holding his breath, and the relieved look of someone who’d finally tackled a tough task, Chi Mo knew he was obedient.

He gave Li Ran 100 yuan.

Cash.

Li Ran thought money was easy to earn.

He also realized talking to complete strangers he’d never interacted with before wasn’t that hard.

Though he didn’t agree with being called “obedient.”

A man called “obedient” had no presence. Li Ran wanted presence.

That evening, after dinner, Li Ran didn’t want to sleep early. He watched TV in the living room, hugging two pillows—one under each arm.

A cop-and-bandit flick.

The bandit wore a thick gold chain, bald head, face full of savage flesh.

Presence oozing.

Li Ran wanted a haircut. Shave it bald.

Or at least a buzz cut.

He’d cooked dinner that day; the aunt was out. So Chi Mo did the dishes.

Clear division of labor.

Chi Mo dried his hands and came out, seeing Li Ran staring enviously at the TV bandit, thoughts plain on his face, impossible to hide.

He walked over, plopped his large hand on Li Ran’s head without asking. First ruffled, then fingers threaded in, toying with the strands.

Soft like a kitten. Nice to touch.

“What’s up, Bro?” Li Ran tilted his face up, asking. Head stayed put for the playing.

“Your hair isn’t long. No cutting.”

Chi Mo gazed into his eyes, half-seriously: “Your body is under my control. No funny ideas.”

Li Ran whispered, “…Like?”

Chi Mo stared deeply, then one hand on his shoulder—without much force—pushed him down. Li Ran toppled into the sofa, flailing all four limbs but unable to get up.

“I’ll show you ‘like.'” Chi Mo demonstrated in person, voice firm and unyielding, word by word: “Watch closely.”