Bai Ying arrived, and Bai Ying left again.
Bai Ying couldn’t figure out what Qin Juanshu had called him in for.
After asking about Bai Ying’s salary, Qin Juanshu seemed to lose all his energy and tactics in an instant. He waved his hand, signaling that Bai Ying could leave. Bai Ying returned to the office in a daze, and the art colleague came over in utter shock. “No way, you’re back already?”
The higher the efficiency, the bigger the trouble!
The art colleague’s face was full of horror as all sorts of wild thoughts flashed through his mind. In his imagination, Bai Ying had already been swept out the door.
“You’ve definitely got the wrong idea…” Bai Ying recounted his brief exchange with Qin Juanshu.
“Could it be that the capitalist grew a conscience?” The art colleague stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Speaking of which, we’ve all moved to Minghong with the company. Shouldn’t our salaries go up too?”
After the failing company was acquired by Minghong Group, the employees had simply changed workplaces—everything else stayed the same.
Even someone as oblivious as Bai Ying found the acquisition odd. Minghong had bought the company but made no changes to it. It seemed the decision-maker hadn’t valued the company itself but had other intentions.
“Keeping things as they are is fine,” Bai Ying said. He had almost no ambition at all.
Maybe snakes were just like that—after one meal, they could lie still digesting for days, and when the temperature dropped, they could sleep through an entire winter. Human society moved at a fast pace, but Bai Ying’s mindset was slow.
He had no interest in digging into the hidden motives behind the acquisition. Determined to find an owner and bolt, he didn’t care about raises either. His thoughts gradually drifted to a small detail he’d noticed by chance.
On Qin Juanshu’s wrist was a mechanical watch.
Its Prussian blue dial reflected almost no light, silent as time itself. A golden ouroboros coiled across it—time marched on relentlessly, yet the hands looped back endlessly.
Bai Ying couldn’t gauge the watch’s value. He had only one thought.
Qin Juanshu had deliberately worn a watch decorated with an ouroboros. Did that mean he liked snakes?
In Bai Ying’s mind, the little white snake quietly bit its own tail.
After two days of back-and-forth, the client was finally somewhat satisfied. The project, which had been rocky from the start, entered a relatively stable phase. Duan Yunjin had negotiated the production details with Xiao Lu and the factory, paid the deposit, and the factory had started working overtime. But that didn’t mean they could relax. They still needed to book venues, conduct site visits, contact performers and staff, rehearse for the roadshow day… They wouldn’t have a moment’s rest until the roadshow wrapped up.
Bai Ying still couldn’t leave on time that day and stayed in the office until the end.
But he wouldn’t have many more chances to linger there in the coming days. The failing company handled planning and execution in one, so he’d have to run around offline too.
The art colleague clocked out first. Bai Ying stayed to wrap things up, checked that all the equipment was off, then turned out the lights and locked the windows. With the flip of the last switch, the office plunged into darkness. The only light came from the neon glow outside the windows and the corridor lights that never seemed to turn off.
Bai Ying hadn’t expected to see Qin Juanshu outside the door.
Qin Juanshu was always suited up, but some people looked like insurance salesmen in suits, while others screamed elite. Elite President Qin gave Bai Ying a strange look. “Overtime again?”
Bai Ying had no idea what he found strange about that. Not working overtime would be the weird part.
He glanced at the time on his phone screen. It was only eight o’clock. At this hour, most windows in Twin Towers were still lit.
Bai Ying looked toward the neighboring office. “Aren’t they working overtime too?”
The neighboring office belonged to a game studio under Minghong, specializing in mini-games. Bai Ying always accidentally wandered in when he wasn’t paying attention. Before moving to Twin Towers, he’d never imagined he’d be this close to the culprits.
Qin Juanshu said, “They make tens of thousands a month and pull overtime. You make five thousand and pull overtime too?”
Bai Ying: “…”
Was that his fault?!
Bai Ying couldn’t help glaring at Qin Juanshu, but his gaze had no intimidation—it only made the target feel a bit uneasy. Qin Juanshu couldn’t help thinking, Was this guy acting coquettish toward him?
Qin Juanshu looked away. “Got a car?”
Bai Ying shook his head. He couldn’t afford one.
Qin Juanshu asked again, “Subway or cab home?”
Bai Ying answered honestly, “Subway.” He couldn’t afford cabs either.
Qin Juanshu tsked. “Follow me. I’m heading home anyway. I’ll drop you off.”
Bai Ying looked at Qin Juanshu in surprise, but Qin Juanshu was already walking toward the elevator. Bai Ying could only see his back. Bai Ying was always a bit timid around his direct superior. He didn’t really dare take his boss’s car, but he didn’t dare refuse his boss either.
After hesitating for a moment, Bai Ying hurried after him.
“Just so we’re clear, I’m just looking out for an employee,” Qin Juanshu said, deliberately making his voice sound aloof. “Don’t get any funny ideas.”
Bai Ying obediently said “oh,” thinking, What ideas could he possibly have?
Seeing Qin Juanshu’s car, Bai Ying had only one simple thought: How much does this thing cost?
The inexperienced little snake couldn’t recognize the luxury brand, but his instincts told him he’d have to work a hundred years without eating to afford it. As a demon, his lifespan could actually support a century of overtime—he wasn’t sure if that was fortunate or not…
Bai Ying mulled over random thoughts as he settled into the passenger seat of the luxury car. He buckled his seatbelt with focus. From the corner of his eye, Qin Juanshu watched him. He noticed Bai Ying approached everything with a serious air—even something as minor as buckling up. It made him seem a bit dim-witted, like an elementary schooler following the teacher’s instructions to the letter.
Qin Juanshu tapped the steering wheel, feeling restless.
Probably not too bright. The only seduction trick he could come up with was that clumsy one… Though if it were someone else, they’d probably have fallen for it by now.
Qin Juanshu started the car and drove forward, leaving the parking garage behind—as if leaving certain thoughts behind too.
Qin Juanshu asked, “Where do you live?”
Bai Ying gave the name of his complex, down to the district, street, and building number.
This spared Qin Juanshu some hassle. He’d been abroad too long and had little memory left of his birthplace, Shen City. He followed the GPS; traffic was decent that night.
Qin Juanshu’s offer to drive Bai Ying home did stem partly from employee concern. As they chatted idly on the road, he asked, “What made you take a job here? Low pay, tons of overtime.”
It was something that had baffled Qin Juanshu after sending Bai Ying away.
Bai Ying couldn’t help giving him a look.
Wasn’t it weird for the boss to badmouth his own studio like that?
But Qin Juanshu wasn’t the original boss anyway—he’d parachuted in. The overtime culture and low pay followed the old rules. Bai Ying thought it over and answered truthfully, “They pay on time, handle full insurance and provident fund properly. Overtime doesn’t pay triple, but there’s some overtime compensation, plus meal and transport subsidies…”
Too many companies in Shen City skimped on labor laws, making the failing company seem decent by comparison.
“Plus, I couldn’t find anything better,” Bai Ying added softly.
Qin Juanshu thought, Sounds honest enough. If only he didn’t have those crooked intentions.
He wasn’t some spoiled rich second-gen relying on family connections. Qin Juanshu had consolidated his mother’s overseas assets, built his career with his expertise, and endured plenty of hardships. He understood how tough survival was for ordinary people. Though his initial impression of Bai Ying wasn’t great, this conversation softened it. Qin Juanshu felt he could revise his view.
Until he pulled up in front of Bai Ying’s rented complex.
Qin Juanshu forced a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Five thousand a month?”
Bai Ying nodded blankly. “What’s wrong?”
“Heh.” Qin Juanshu sneered coldly. “Get out.”
Stepping out of the warm car into the cold night wind, Bai Ying didn’t realize he’d essentially been kicked out. He just didn’t understand why Qin Juanshu seemed angry. He hadn’t even thanked him before Qin Juanshu floored it and drove off.
“I was going to ask if he liked snakes…” Bai Ying muttered.
Bosses were so hard to read.
Bai Ying shook his head and walked off, unable to guess at all.
Qin Juanshu drove a few hundred meters before whipping around and screeching to a stop on the roadside. He slammed the steering wheel hard, seething with rage at the deception.
Five thousand a month? Honest guy? Hardworking everyman struggling to survive?
Qin Juanshu wasn’t too familiar with current Shen City, but when he’d first returned and didn’t want to stay at Qin Manor, he’d house-hunted for a bit. Pulling up to Bai Ying’s complex jogged his memory—this place had even been on his shortlist thanks to its prime location.
A complex where housing prices pushed eight figures. Qin Juanshu didn’t know the rent, but it sure wasn’t five-thousand-a-month affordable.
If not from his own efforts, then whose? Qin Juanshu had reviewed Bai Ying’s file—no family, an orphan.
Someone he’d successfully seduced, like he’d tried with Qin Juanshu?
Imagining Bai Ying returning home to some man waiting inside made Qin Juanshu’s face darken.
Shameless, morally bankrupt!
His expression stony, he rolled down the window to let cold wind blast in, but the fury wouldn’t subside. Finally, Qin Juanshu hit the gas and headed toward the bar street.
At that moment, Bai Ying really was with a man.
But not the kind of fling Qin Juanshu imagined—it was his neighbor.
Bai Ying hadn’t expected to see Tan Ming the moment he stepped out of the elevator. Nor had he imagined Tan Ming had been waiting outside since sunset. Tan Ming simply told him he’d just gotten home too.
“Haven’t had dinner yet?” Tan Ming had heard from Bai Ying that he’d skipped the company cafeteria and suggested, “I’m about to cook. Want to join?”
The simple yet delicious sweet porridge from last night had taught Bai Ying that Tan Ming was a great cook. But…
“Won’t it be too much trouble?” Bai Ying hesitated about going into Tan Ming’s place.
“No trouble. I don’t cook much for one person. With you here, I can make more variety.” Tan Ming said.
Bai Ying was convinced. “Then I’ll wash and chop veggies!”
Tan Ming was about to refuse, but something occurred to him, and he agreed instead. Once they were in the kitchen, he pulled out a cute apron—also bought by his mom, one he thought he’d never use—and said to Bai Ying, “The ties in the back are tricky. Let me help you tie it.”
“Sure.” Bai Ying turned around, his attention fixed on the little bear hugging a honey jar in the front.
Tan Ming tightened the ties and noticed how extraordinarily slim Bai Ying’s waist was. It made him wonder if he could grip it with one hand.
“Done?” Bai Ying twisted back, sensing no movement behind him.
“All set.” Tan Ming quickly withdrew his hands.
Bai Ying took the basket of vegetables from Tan Ming and rinsed them carefully under the faucet. Their apartments had identical layouts—spacious living rooms but cramped kitchens. Bai Ying, who rarely cooked, only now realized how tight the space was. He worried Tan Ming might feel crowded, but Tan Ming showed no discomfort.
Tan Ming thought the kitchen space was perfect.
With two grown men inside, they’d brush against each other by accident. Turning his head, he could see the pale nape of Bai Ying’s neck as he washed veggies intently. Bai Ying was thorough, scrubbing every crevice for hidden dirt, his fingertips turning red from the rubbing.
Out of nowhere, Tan Ming said, “I should’ve moved in sooner.”
Bai Ying looked puzzled. “Huh?”
“This place was prepared for me when my family learned I planned to develop in Shen City. I used to live in the Capital City… Dealing with the old house delayed me, so I moved in half a month later than planned.” Tan Ming thought if he’d moved on time—or earlier—he might’ve met Bai Ying sooner.
Bai Ying was surprised. “You didn’t buy it yourself?”
Tan Ming wondered if he seemed like a freeloading rich kid and hurried to explain, “I have enough savings to buy property in Shen City myself. Actually…”
Actually, he was young, promising, talented, with scripts hotly contested by major directors—a rare catch of a man.
Of course, Tan Ming wouldn’t say those words in front of Bai Ying, and he truly hadn’t voiced them. Bai Ying’s sigh had actually stemmed from other reasons.
“So, do you not know about what happened in this house before?” Bai Ying couldn’t help but ask.
“…What happened?” Tan Ming suddenly had a bad premonition.
“This neighborhood had a particularly vicious murder case. The male head of one household got into a conflict with his neighbors, took a knife, and hacked the entire family of four to death. Realizing the grave mistake he’d made, he then killed his own entire family before taking his own life.” Bai Ying pointed at Tan Ming, then at himself. “The victims lived in your house, and the killer lived in mine.”
The crime scene had been so gruesome that, even though less than a decade had passed, both apartments had become infamous haunted houses in Shen City. No one dared to live there, and no one dared to buy them.
It wasn’t until Bai Ying, figuring that as a snake demon he should be fiercer than any malicious ghost, was tempted by the rock-bottom rent and moved in. Several years later, the oblivious Tan Ming had followed suit.
Tan Ming: “…”
Mom, you really are my mom.
Their family wasn’t short on money either. Tan Ming had no idea how much confidence Madam Tan had in the yang energy emanating from her son to feel secure enough to buy him this majorly ominous house.
Yet, upon learning the truth, Tan Ming felt no resentment whatsoever.
He looked toward Bai Ying, who had been glancing at him frequently during their chat. The haze of illness had lifted from Bai Ying’s eyes, leaving them now like a limpid pool of autumn water.
Tan Ming’s heart echoed the same sentiment: Mom, you really are my mom.
