Chapter 5
For three days, Zong Mo was on edge because of Ruan Chi’s WeChat Moments post, checking it ten times a day.
Still no likes or comments!
Great!!
Ruan Chi’s Moments were also set to be visible for only three days. Zong Mo nearly fell to his knees in gratitude for this humane feature of WeChat.
During these three days, Ruan Chi was genuinely busy.
Zong Mo had a bathroom in his room. When he got up in the middle of the night to use it, he had a sudden whim to go out and take a look, and saw a sliver of light still showing from under the door of the room next door.
The time was five in the morning.
The sky was about to lighten. He really had pulled an all-nighter, no exaggeration.
At eight o’clock, Zong Mo made breakfast and sent a WeChat message to Ruan Chi, calling him down to eat.
Breakfast was just some easily digestible things like congee and noodles, with an egg or something similar for extra nutrition. It was simple, but Ruan Chi wasn’t a picky eater.
Or rather, it wasn’t that he wasn’t picky… it was more that eating wasn’t an enjoyment for him, just a task to be completed.
On the fourth morning, Zong Mo couldn’t help but ask, “Do you like Western-style breakfast? I can make something different tomorrow morning.”
“Mm, anything is fine,” Ruan Chi said.
After eating, he would go back to his room to sleep for a while, about three or four hours, then come down for lunch, and then continue working, sleeping again the next morning.
Zong Mo: …
How was the life of an overbearing CEO completely different from what he had imagined?
During lunch, Ruan Chi asked him, “This project will be resolved in a few days. There will be tens of millions coming in. Are there any dramas you want to film recently?”
Zong Mo thought to himself, This is the gift for the golden canary.
He had learned from An Lan that when he transmigrated, he had just finished filming a project out of town. The day after returning to City A, he had rushed to the evening party to accompany his sponsor, and two days later, he had another magazine shoot. It was a seamless transition, keeping him spinning like a top.
So, he was now in a rare vacation period.
An Lan had given him a few scripts. The earliest one started filming in two months, so there was no rush; he could take his time choosing.
Zong Mo saw the astonishing number of scripts, where even the worst role was the third male lead after veteran actors, and guessed that this must be the power of his sponsor daddy.
His acting skills were probably even worse than the original Zong Mo’s, and he didn’t have the iron heart of a public figure, so he was terrified of being criticized.
So he said, “I want to participate in a variety show.”
“What kind of variety show?”
“I heard there’s a variety show about traveling abroad…”
“Abroad?” Ruan Chi looked up, his gaze sharp enough to see through everything.
Zong Mo’s little scheme shattered into pieces with a crack.
Escaping was impossible.
There was no escape, not even with wings.
Ruan Chi smiled slightly but didn’t say anything more.
Zong Mo gave up. “I don’t have anything I want to film for now. I’ll rest for a while first.”
“Mm,” Ruan Chi said. “I can take you with me next time I go abroad for a business trip.”
Zong Mo: …
Well, that won’t be necessary.
But he didn’t dare to refuse, fully aware of his role as a golden canary.
“Go get some sleep. See you tonight,” Ruan Chi said.
After finishing the work at hand, Ruan Chi occasionally had to go out for work. Not to work for someone else, of course, but for meetings and to inspect his own employees.
He got home at ten o’clock at night, busy, and didn’t see dinner waiting for him.
His expression immediately soured. He sat in the living room, arms crossed, and called the golden canary/nanny upstairs.
Zong Mo came running down the stairs, muttering, “Why didn’t you say you were coming back in advance?”
He can’t be expected to have hot food ready and waiting every second of the day!
He’s a celebrity!
…A celebrity living under someone else’s roof.
Zong Mo’s imposing manner instantly deflated.
Ruan Chi shot him a cold look. “Did you forget what I said? Even if I go out to work, I will come back to eat.”
“I’ll go make it now.”
Faced with this last-minute scramble, Ruan Chi’s expression didn’t improve. He even stood up and followed Zong Mo into the kitchen, as if he wanted to see what kind of delicacies he could whip up to redeem himself.
Zong Mo turned on the stove to heat a pan, threw in the steak he had marinated earlier, and skillfully seared the plump cut until it was glistening and sizzling. Without turning his head, he said, “If you had told me half an hour in advance, it would have been ready just as you got home.”
“We’re having steak today. It can’t be made in advance. It gets tough if you reheat it after it gets cold.”
He focused on cooking, only hearing footsteps moving away behind him, then quickly approaching again.
With a thud, something was thrown onto the table behind him.
Zong Mo: ?
He spared a glance back and saw a pretty pink box. A transparent film on the front displayed the contents inside: a small, exquisite cake.
“A client gave it to me,” Ruan Chi said. “I don’t eat sweets.”
Zong Mo: …Fine.
The cake was put in the fridge. They ate their main course first, paired with Ruan Chi’s treasured aged red wine.
Zong Mo didn’t know the price of the wine, but he felt no psychological burden. No matter how expensive the wine, it was meant to be drunk. Besides, he had cooked for CEO Ruan.
An equal exchange!
He kindly reminded Ruan Chi, who had the standard-issue CEO stomach problems, “You should drink less.”
Ruan Chi was noncommittal, elegantly sipping from his glass.
Zong Mo remembered how he had chugged hard liquor on their first meeting and figured it should be fine, so he didn’t press the issue. Besides, red wine, in moderation, could be good for the stomach.
Ruan Chi’s face would flush after just a little red wine; he probably had the type of constitution that had trouble breaking down alcohol. But his tolerance was actually quite good. The first time, he was in that state and still remembered the millet porridge. It was probably a skill honed from business socializing.
Being a CEO was really not easy.
It was better to be a golden canary.
Thinking this, Zong Mo’s attitude was unusually good. He took the initiative to ask, “Do you want to… do it today?”
“Do you want to do it?” Ruan Chi threw the question back at him.
Zong Mo: …
He really couldn’t figure out Ruan Chi’s thoughts. He was already starting to suspect that acting on his lust on the first night had been a huge mistake.
“If you don’t need it, I can just…”
Ruan Chi shot him a look, his gaze as sharp as a razor blade.
Zong Mo’s tongue got tied. He straightened it out and continued, “…I can just take care of it myself.”
“Go take a shower,” Ruan Chi said.
Dinner plus a shower, it was already close to midnight.
Zong Mo’s mind was tired, but his body was still reasonably energetic.
Ruan Chi remembered the cake and reminded him, “Bring the cake to the room to eat.”
He had already brushed his teeth, and the cake could be eaten tomorrow, but Zong Mo didn’t dare to object. He quickly brought the cake over.
Eating cake while wearing a bathrobe.
It was a bit strange.
Zong Mo didn’t touch the fork and politely asked, “Do you want to try it first?”
Ruan Chi said, “You eat it.”
Right, the man had just said he didn’t eat sweets.
Zong Mo didn’t dislike sweets, but it was already the middle of the night. He had always been disciplined with his diet and worked out regularly, and now that he was a celebrity, he couldn’t just eat whatever he wanted.
The sponsor wanted him to eat, so of course he had to eat. Fortunately, the cake wasn’t that big.
One bite, and his taste buds were instantly conquered.
…What is this divine flavor?
Not sure. Let’s try again.
By the time he had put the last bite of the soft, sweet cake into his mouth and was looking at the empty box, he suddenly remembered Ruan Chi beside him. It was one thing for him to say he didn’t eat it, but not even asking about the last bite was his own fault.
Zong Mo: …
He couldn’t swallow, nor could he not swallow.
Ruan Chi beckoned to him, saying “Come here,” as usual.
He went over, and Ruan Chi tasted it from his mouth. A mouthful of cake was stirred into a sticky mess and had to be shared between the two of them, but Ruan Chi was satisfied. He said, “Not bad.”
Now Zong Mo was certain. This cake was definitely not a gift from someone else, but something Ruan Chi had specifically bought to set the mood.
The next morning, Zong Mo groggily picked up his phone and saw a missed calendar reminder.
November 18th: CEO Ruan’s birthday.
It was yesterday.
Zong Mo was panic-stricken. He did a carp flip out of bed and rushed back to his own room, his mind racing. He quickly checked all his shopping apps to see if he had prepared any gifts in advance.
Nothing!
Could he have bought it offline? That made sense. A gift for CEO Ruan definitely wouldn’t be suitable for online shopping. He then rummaged through his room for receipts or account books. Still nothing!!
Calm down.
The original main shou was a straight man. Unless he was forced, why would he give a gift to his sponsor? What if the gift wasn’t well-received and he ended up being sent to bed instead?
He opened his chat with An Lan to scout for information.
After carefully wording his message, he sent it.
[Sister An Lan, it was CEO Ruan’s birthday yesterday. Should I get him a belated birthday gift?]
[His birthday is over, what’s the point of giving a gift now?]
It was indeed An Lan’s straightforward style. This kind of person was suited for working in the bloody world of the entertainment industry.
An Lan sent another message: [Anyway, you’ve never given him one before.]
Zong Mo felt a little relieved.
An Lan: [CEO Ruan doesn’t celebrate his birthday. He was on a business trip on his birthday last year.]
Zong Mo was completely relieved, but still found it strange.
He doesn’t celebrate his own birthday, but on this special day, he stuffs cake into his golden canary’s mouth.
Did he do this before…?
Of course, he couldn’t ask Ruan Chi this question directly.
Zong Mo was very troubled. He went to make breakfast for his sponsor, his mind preoccupied.
The great CEO Ruan’s birthday was a very, very small interlude.
Until An Lan sent another message:
[What have you been up to lately? I feel like CEO Ruan has been angry a lot.]
Zong Mo glanced at the person opposite him and replied: [He doesn’t look angry.]
An Lan: [He was clearly not right at the photo studio last time. He even told me not to have this kind of job again.]
Zong Mo: …
He really hadn’t noticed that Ruan Chi was angry.
But An Lan had known Ruan Chi for longer. Trusting a woman’s intuition was never wrong.
Speaking of which, only when he saw Ruan Chi sitting on the sofa on his birthday night did he feel a momentary palpitation.
If he was angry then, it was probably because there was no hot meal waiting for him when he got home.
Forget it. He couldn’t figure it out.
Why were the thoughts of a paper-thin character so hard to guess?
An Lan’s message popped up again: [Behave yourself. Be more obedient.]
Zong Mo: …
No, a woman’s intuition wasn’t entirely trustworthy either.
Did An Lan think he had been getting slept with by his sponsor for the past two years?
During this period, the frequency of their “exercise” was five times a week, with weekends off.
Besides cooking, he had no other work. Zong Mo could accept this and was quite diligent in his efforts.
What was less acceptable was that Ruan Chi had probably gotten used to him and would sometimes fall asleep in the middle of their exercise.
Zong Mo: ?
This was a true, utter humiliation.
He would thrust hard, jolting his sponsor awake.
Ruan Chi would then wake up with a groan and huskily tell him to be gentler.
Zong Mo’s desire to conquer was fully satisfied, but he would have to endure a few death glares the next day.
On December 1st, the magazine they had shot for was released. It didn’t make any waves. Even the cover model himself was completely unaware.
The editor-in-chief wiped away a bitter tear in a deserted corner, unable to believe that his judgment had been wrong.
Their kind of adult magazine was actually quite niche, with a stable subscriber base. Big-name celebrities wouldn’t shoot for them, so it was rare for an issue to become a massive hit. But their income had always been stable enough to sustain the magazine’s operations and support the hundred or so staff members.
But that loyal group of readers, upon seeing what the hell this issue was—the model was actually wearing clothes—immediately pulled up their pants and heartlessly ran away.
An Lan had hoped Zong Mo could use this opportunity to turn his luck around. She stared at the data every day, her hair falling out from stress.
She could ask Ruan Chi to pay for promotion, but that would mean asking the sponsor to pay to tell everyone: Look! Here are the sexy photos of my golden canary.
Ruan Chi would kill her.
Her salary was paid by Ruan Chi, and it was decent, but if she were to buy marketing… Ruan Chi would know it was her at a glance and then come to kill her.
And her nominal boss, Zong Mo, had no money at all. The little he earned was far from enough to match what Ruan Chi had invested in him.
A few days later, An Lan, who had already given up on herself, got a call from the editor-in-chief.
At first, she refused to answer, but feeling guilty, she picked up. In the end, she clutched the phone, unwilling to let go, and shouted with a mix of surprise and joy, “What!? Really?”
After the editor-in-chief, there were several more calls.
An Lan finally managed to deal with them all, opened Weibo and then closed it again, unable to stop the smile on her face. She quickly contacted Zong Mo.
Besides Ruan Chi, who lived under the same roof, no one else ever called Zong Mo. During his vacation, An Lan would only send him WeChat messages for non-urgent matters.
But now his phone suddenly rang in Ruan Chi’s room. One call was missed, then another came.
Zong Mo was about to go limp.
He couldn’t reach his phone now and could only ask Ruan Chi to help him get it.
“I’ll turn it off.”
But Ruan Chi said, “Answer it. Don’t stop.”
Zong Mo: ?
He had no choice but to answer. Fortunately, it was An Lan, who barely counted as an outsider.
An Lan was incredibly excited, her tone rapid-fire: “Quick, look at Weibo, you’re trending!!! You got famous on your own, ah, well, not that famous… sob, I’m so happy, Zong Mo, you’ve made it, success is just around the corner, ahhh! I just received several photoshoot invitations… oh, I still have to ask CEO Ruan…”
As An Lan spoke, her voice trailed off.
Zong Mo thought to himself, You can ask him right now. CEO Ruan is right under me.
Very close. In fact, at a negative distance.
It was clearly not the time to discuss work.
He could only quickly interrupt An Lan, his voice dry and hoarse, “Mm, I… I’ll check Weibo later… mm, hanging up.”
An Lan: …
Is the fate of being killed by CEO Ruan really unavoidable?
Author’s Note:
CEO Ruan, a standard-issue overbearing CEO Scorpio.
