Chapter 63

Jing Chi drew from the original host’s memories and knew this part-time job paid a thousand yuan a day.

Only a fool would turn down easy money, so he quickly wrapped up his shift and collected his pay from the supervisor.

This was the original host’s final gig before starting his internship at White Crane Group.

There was no helping it—the original host had been flat broke. Adding this thousand brought Jing Chi’s total to just two thousand yuan.

He had sent most of his previous earnings home, and the rest had gone toward renting a shared apartment near the company for the internship. At fifteen hundred a month, it had wiped out his savings in one go.

The place was small, but the environment was decent, it was close to work, and the rent was cheap. The only downside was sharing with someone else, but luckily his room came with its own private bathroom.

Under the circumstances, Jing Chi could make it work.

He checked the date and saw his start date was next Monday, giving him a few days to adjust to this new world.

In the meantime, he needed to head back to the dorm and pack up. He had only just rented the apartment, after all, and it was completely empty.

Jing Chi returned to school from the hotel where he had been working.

A University, where the original host had studied, was one of the top schools in the country. His stellar grades during college were what had gotten him the internship at White Crane Group in the first place.

After all, only the truly exceptional cleared the entry bar there. Staying on would depend on actual performance.

Jing Chi pushed open the door to the dorm and was greeted by a somewhat cluttered space.

Fortunately, though messy, it didn’t stink. He spotted his bed at a glance—it stood out as the cleanest one.

“Little Chi, you’re back.” The only roommate in the dorm at the time, Li Mingye, greeted him with a hint of worry on his face. “You okay? I heard Xu Hao went to your workplace and caused a scene.”

Li Mingye was the sole rich second-gen in Dormitory 402. He hated being cooped up at home, so he had opted for campus housing. While everyone else scrambled for internships, he spent his days gaming in the dorm.

For a rich kid, though, Li Mingye had a laid-back personality and especially liked hanging out with Jing Chi.

After all, every time they went out together, they drew stares from countless girls. Li Mingye found it endlessly satisfying.

Over time, the two had grown close.

Jing Chi opened his closet and started packing while replying offhandedly, “I’m fine.”

Li Mingye tsked in disdain. “That Xu Hao struts around like he owns the place just because he’s got a bit of cash. I wanna knock him down a peg every time I see him.”

Jing Chi laughed and teased, “Don’t you have that cash too? Haha.”

Li Mingye scratched his head, pausing to think. “Huh, yeah, I guess. Whatever. If he bugs you again, just tell me. I’ll take care of him.”

Jing Chi paused in his packing, turned around, and considered for a moment. “There probably won’t be a next time. I’m starting my internship next week.”

Even if there was, Jing Chi had no intention of letting him off easy.

“Right!” Li Mingye slapped the table. “White Crane internship. Perfect timing—I know some people there. If anyone pulls workplace bullying on you, tell Brother Ming, and I’ll get someone to sort them out.”

He started preening as he spoke.

Jing Chi put on a serious face. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks, Brother Ming.”

The two locked eyes and burst out laughing together.

Then Li Mingye leaned in mysteriously. “You know the president of White Crane Group? Yin Hexuan.”

Jing Chi raised an eyebrow. Of course he did—he had even run into him today.

Before Jing Chi could respond, Li Mingye continued, a regretful look on his face. “Pre-accident Yin Hexuan was the full package: handsome, loaded, good-tempered, and talented. Even I couldn’t envy him—he was on another level. He graduated with a master’s from Harvard at twenty-four, took over White Crane Group right after, and solidified his position as president in just four years. But talent like that draws envy from the heavens. At twenty-eight—a year ago—he got into a car crash. He survived, but his right leg was left with a permanent disability.”

“Rumor has it his personality changed completely after that. He’s moody and unpredictable now, downright terrifying—super terrifying. He hates anyone getting close and loathes any mention of his leg injury. These days, he rarely shows his face in public except for essential events.”

“So, Little Chi, when you go to White Crane Group, steer clear of him if you can. And whatever you do, don’t piss him off.” Li Mingye spoke with earnest concern.

Jing Chi nodded to show he understood, though his response came off a bit perfunctory.

After all, how could he complete his tasks without getting close to Yin Hexuan?

He not only needed to draw near but also lure the man straight into his own lair.

The next day, Jing Chi packed up his things and said goodbye to Li Mingye.

He arrived at the rented house and unlocked the door with his key.

It was Friday, so the other tenants were likely at work. The place was empty when he stepped inside.

Jing Chi opened the door to his room.

The layout came into view: roughly twenty square meters, with a bed, a desk, and a bathroom along the wall by the door.

The space felt decently roomy. Jing Chi spent the morning sorting everything out.

In the afternoon, he headed to the supermarket for some supplies.

What Jing Chi hadn’t anticipated was how small the world truly was—he ran into Jing Shu there.

Jing Shu had a man with him, someone about half a head taller. The guy wore a hat and mask, a black hoodie, and jeans.

Jing Chi thought of the protagonist’s harem. This had to be someone from the entertainment industry, though he couldn’t pinpoint who.

Jing Shu was something else, getting a public figure to shop with him without worrying about tomorrow’s hot searches.

Jing Chi edged closer without drawing attention.

The pair wandered the aisles, chatting and laughing.

Suddenly, Jing Shu’s phone rang. Jing Chi watched as he said something to the man and stepped aside—conveniently separated from Jing Chi by a single shelf.

“Hello, Hexuan.”

Jing Chi hadn’t planned to eavesdrop, but that name stopped him in his tracks.

Something was said on the line, and Jing Shu put on an apologetic expression tinged with regret.

“Sorry, Hexuan. I forgot I promised to go with you to your check-up. Thing is, I’m tied up today and can’t make it.”

The response was probably that it was no big deal.

Jing Shu hung up promptly and rejoined the man with a cheerful grin.

Jing Chi curled his lip. Really busy, huh? Busy playing escort to another guy at the supermarket.

The man was a time management wizard. Jing Chi almost had to respect it.

With moves like Jing Shu’s—keeping things hot and cold, tossing out vague signals—he’d turned Yin Hexuan’s faint fondness into something deeper.

Luckily, the timing of Jing Chi’s arrival wasn’t smack in the middle of Shura field territory. Yin Hexuan’s feelings toward Jing Shu were still hazy, nowhere near full-blown affection.

Jing Chi had half a mind to turn and leave, but thoughts of the original host’s parents and their longing for Jing Shu held him back. He stepped forward.

“Bro,” he called, approaching Jing Shu.

Jing Shu froze. He’d inherited the original Jing Shu’s memories, so he knew this was his little brother—but he hadn’t expected to bump into him here.

As a book transmigrator, Jing Shu dreaded run-ins with the original host’s family. He feared giving himself away.

Fortunately, by the time he’d arrived, the original host had already burned bridges with the family. It spared him the risk of exposure.

Jing Shu tugged at the corner of his mouth in a stiff smile. “Mm.”

The man turned his gaze to Jing Chi. At first, he pegged him for another rival, but the facial resemblance—about thirty percent—confirmed it was the real deal: Jing Shu’s brother.

He flashed a warm smile. “Hey, I’m Pu Mingxu.”

Pu Mingxu was the entertainment industry’s current top star. He’d debuted at eighteen, chased by hordes of fans, a natural at singing and dancing—and he was only twenty-two.

“Nice to meet you,” Jing Chi said politely. He had zero interest in the shou protagonist’s harem, but courtesy demanded it. Then: “Bro, Mom and Dad miss you. When are you going to visit?”

Jing Chi figured this shou protagonist had gone too far. He’d hijacked the guy’s body but couldn’t be bothered with basic filial piety.

Jing Shu’s eyes darted away, his words vague. “When I find the time.”

Pu Mingxu perked up at that, beaming with sunny charm. “Little Shu, where’s your family from? I could tag along next time you go back.”

Jing Shu’s smile faltered. He brushed Jing Chi off. “I’ve got stuff to handle. Gotta run. I’ll see Mom and Dad when I can.”

With that, he grabbed Pu Mingxu and bolted, looking for all the world like he was fleeing the scene.

Jing Chi arched a brow. He had a sudden feeling he’d be crossing paths with the shou protagonist pretty often from here on out.

After all, he’d be sticking close to Yin Hexuan.

.

Monday dawned bright and sunny.

Jing Chi arrived at the White Crane Group building right on time at half past seven. Someone soon escorted him through the onboarding process.

He was assigned to the Marketing Department, a placement that left Jing Chi somewhat dissatisfied. After all, it would be hard to get close to Yin Hexuan from there.

But he had to admit his luck was holding. He had barely settled into his workstation when someone from the Personnel Department approached. The President, they said, was short an assistant at the moment. Would Jing Chi mind filling in temporarily until they found a permanent replacement?

Just like that, Jing Chi transferred smoothly from the Marketing Department to the President’s Office.

Special Assistant Zhou Bin, who worked closely at Yin Hexuan’s side, was a little surprised to see him.

No one rose to the position of presidential special assistant without being exceptional, and Zhou Bin clearly remembered Jing Chi.

As the special assistant, he made a point of committing every person the President encountered to memory.

“It’s you,” Special Assistant Zhou said with a smile.

Jing Chi drew a blank. He touched his face, puzzlement clear in his eyes.

“That day at the hotel,” Special Assistant Zhou prompted.

Sudden realization dawned on Jing Chi.

“So it was you who helped me up back then, Special Assistant. Does that mean the person I accidentally landed on was…”

He trailed off, but they both knew exactly whom he meant.

Special Assistant Zhou clapped a reassuring hand on Jing Chi’s shoulder. The young man’s face was all scrunched up with worry.

“Don’t worry about it. The President has probably forgotten the whole thing by now.”

Their boss had never been one to waste brain space on people who didn’t matter to him.

If there was anyone besides his parents whom he truly cared about, it could only be Mr. Jing Shu.

That said, Special Assistant Zhou had always sensed something off about Jing Shu. He didn’t much like the man, but there was nothing to be done—the guy had saved the President’s life.

And speaking of Jing Shu, Special Assistant Zhou now noticed that the young man before him shared a certain resemblance with him. A few ideas began to stir in his mind.

Compared to Jing Shu, Jing Chi seemed far simpler. He radiated the wide-eyed naivety of your typical college student.