Chapter 17
Song Jingmo was shamelessly tempted.
This was translated adult material, courtesy of Secretary Xu!
Xu Yi, fluent in three languages, translated with flair, even adding his own embellishments to enhance the story and characters.
It was pure, beautiful, and deliciously spicy.
Compared to clunky machine translations, Secretary Xu’s work was a masterpiece!
So, after Xu Yi retrieved his pen and returned to the meeting, the chibi shadow sat obediently on Xie Zhang’s shoe, humming and swinging his legs.
Internal development meetings were often longer than investor meetings.
Bored, Song Jingmo indulged himself, forming a miniature shadow violin, just the right size for his chibi hands.
Since no one could hear him anyway, it was the perfect opportunity for some undisturbed practice.
He played scales at first, then transitioned to improvising, the melody shifting from gentle and melodious to passionate and dramatic, enjoying himself immensely.
Xie Zhang, who had almost drifted off to the humming earlier, now found himself serenaded by a violin: “…”
He couldn’t help but smile, turning slightly and covering his lips to hide his amusement.
…
And so, Xie Zhang spent the entire meeting with work discussions in one ear and violin music in the other.
Xu Yi, relieved that the day’s important tasks were completed and that Xie Zhang could work remotely for the rest of the week, breathed a sigh of relief.
Good, his job was safe.
Then he saw Xie Zhang pull out a new project document.
Xu Yi: “?”
His boss’s deceased wife had returned as a ghost, and he still had the energy for new projects?
New project = overtime = extra bonus
This equation formed in Xu Yi’s mind. He decided to print some… offerings later, to appease Madam Boss.
Song Jingmo, unaware of the planned offerings, put away his miniature violin and clung to Xie Zhang’s trousers, his head bobbing with drowsiness.
Strangely, he hadn’t felt this tired at home.
And since Xie Zhang had been sunbathing more often, he rarely felt weak or drowsy.
Why was he so sleepy at Xie Zhang’s company?
Xie Zhang, ever perceptive, realized this before Song Jingmo.
He quickly considered the differences between his home and office environments, and immediately identified the culprit.
As soon as they left the meeting room, he lowered his voice and said to Xu Yi: “Remove the ornaments in the hallway and the paintings downstairs. Replace them with something else.”
“Anything will do, just fill the space.”
Xie Zhang had built his company from the ground up. He didn’t have the resources or the need for an entire building like the Song corporation.
But leasing three floors in a prime downtown location was still a significant achievement.
His office was on the top floor. The golden toad ornament in the hallway and the paintings downstairs were opening gifts from a close friend and investor.
His friend was a believer in feng shui, claiming the gifts were consecrated talismans, guaranteeing prosperity and good fortune for Xie Zhang’s company.
After all, Xie Zhang’s success meant profit for his shareholders.
Xie Zhang had never believed in such things, displaying the gifts out of courtesy. But now, Song Jingmo’s unusual behavior made him reconsider.
Xu Yi, understanding immediately, glanced at the shadow huddled at Xie Zhang’s feet, said nothing, and went to take care of it.
Although he usually addressed Song Jingmo formally, they were actually good friends.
Xu Yi, dedicated to his work and following a workaholic boss, hadn’t had much time for a social life.
Song Jingmo was his only friend.
He didn’t take credit for their friendship; Song Jingmo was simply a genuinely likable person.
Xu Yi watched as the large golden toad was carried into storage, then personally wrapped it in several layers of canvas.
He also carefully rolled up the paintings and sealed them in a box.
…
Song Jingmo didn’t know when he fell asleep. When he woke up, the sky outside was a dusky orange-red.
He watched the sunset for a while, then stretched, turning to Xie Zhang, who sat silently at his large desk.
Working overtime again?
So late, and still not home.
Glancing at the clock on the wall, noticing it was well past dinner time, Song Jingmo hopped onto the desk, ready to nag Xie Zhang about his schedule.
Just as he was about to type, he saw the security footage on the computer screen.
He instantly understood why Xie Zhang was still at the office.
Security cameras in a CEO’s office were normal, but this footage was… not.
Perched on a coiled shadow tendril, Song Jingmo stared at the screen, bewildered.
The footage showed Xie Zhang’s shadow spreading across the office like a living, breathing entity, transforming the space into a scene from a horror movie.
Shadow tendrils occasionally reached out, caressing Xie Zhang’s face and chest, tugging at his collar before being gently pushed away.
—Xie Zhang probably thought he was having another episode and had confined himself to the office, waiting for his “second personality” to calm down.
Song Jingmo looked at Xie Zhang, his expression calm and composed.
He was truly impressed.
How could he possibly convince himself that this was a hallucination?
A man who didn’t read novels, watch anime, or create games remotely related to the supernatural, with no knowledge of such things.
Xie Zhang, seriously, could your imagination even conjure such artistically creepy imagery?!
Before he could ask, a knock echoed through the office, and Xu Yi, the ever-efficient secretary, entered, holding a file.
Song Jingmo: “!”
He’d been unconscious at that time, his shadow completely out of control, practically engulfing the office.
Countless scenarios flashed through his mind, each ending badly.
He’d expected Xu Yi to scream, to panic, to call the police, or, best-case scenario, to pretend he hadn’t seen anything and quietly retreat.
—After all, Xu Yi had consumed his fair share of supernatural stories; he knew better than to mess with such things.
But then, Song Jingmo watched, speechless, as Xu Yi, completely ignoring the creepy shadow, walked straight to Xie Zhang’s desk and handed him the file.
“Boss, sign this.”
His tone and demeanor were as steady as a seasoned communist party member.
Song Jingmo: “?”
He was starting to doubt his own existence, wondering if he really was just a hallucination.
The chibi shadow looked at himself, flexed a shadow tendril, and fell into a spiral of self-doubt.
Was he not scary enough? Not Lovecraftian enough?
Why were both Xie Zhang and Xu Yi acting like nothing was wrong?
Staring at his shadow tip, he abruptly transformed it into a sunflower.
Just then, Xie Zhang spoke.
“Momo, Xu Yi gave me some of your old things that you left with him. He said you’d like them, asked me to bring them to you.”
“I’ll read them to you when we get home, okay?”
“You and Xu Yi were always so close. Sometimes I wonder… why?”
A hint of jealousy flickered in Xie Zhang’s eyes, a possessive glint in his gaze.
He wasn’t just acting like a mentally ill person; he was using this opportunity to express his hidden desires.
“I’m the one who knows you best, the one closest to you, right?”
“This is… nice, Momo. I can finally understand you better.”
Huh? Things he’d left with Xu Yi? What did he have with Xu Yi—holy shit?!
Song Jingmo instantly remembered Xu Yi’s “offerings” and turned to Xie Zhang, his expression horrified.
Compared to Xie Zhang, he was the one who looked like he’d seen a ghost.
What had Xie Zhang just said?
Read… read them to him?!
