The Daily Struggle of a Corporate Slave 43

Chapter 43

In the past, Jing Ciying would have denied it without hesitation.

But now, the words wouldn’t come.

“No,” he mumbled, his voice lacking conviction.

He tried to maintain his usual composure, but Pei Songji seemed to see through his facade.

His smile widened, but he didn’t say anything.

Jing Ciying, feeling strangely self-conscious, avoided his gaze, focusing on the pet camera footage.

Happy had lost weight, lying listlessly by his bedroom door.

His heart ached. He wanted to go home, but he was still in the hospital. He touched the screen, a poor substitute for holding his cat.

Since that question, an unspoken tension had filled the room whenever Pei Songji was present.

It wasn’t unpleasant, just… unfamiliar.

He wanted to subtly suggest that Pei Songji didn’t have to be there all the time, but he didn’t want to be too obvious. He finally decided to use the company as an excuse.

“Mr. Pei, are you sure it’s alright to be away from the company for so long?”

“My grandfather is taking care of things,” Pei Songji said, wiping his hands with a warm towel. His caregiving skills had improved significantly; he seemed to enjoy these small acts of service, something Jing Ciying would never have imagined before.

“I can do that myself,” Jing Ciying said, trying to take the towel.

But Pei Songji held onto his hand, gently drying each finger.

His touch was gentle, but Jing Ciying still felt a strange discomfort, wanting to pull his hand away.

“And I’ll be discharged soon…”

Pei Songji interrupted him. “I know you don’t want me to take care of you, but you’ve just had surgery. I can’t leave you alone in the hospital. If you don’t want me here, then I’ll have to ask your aunt to come.”

Jing Ciying panicked. “Don’t tell my aunt!”

“Okay,” Pei Songji said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Then I guess I’ll just have to keep taking care of you.”

Jing Ciying: “…”

He couldn’t argue with that. He gave in.

But later that night, as he was about to sleep, he realized the absurdity of the situation. Why was the choice between Pei Songji and his aunt?

Why not hire a nurse?

But he would be discharged soon; finding a suitable nurse and then training them seemed like too much trouble.

So, he let it go.

Pei Songji continued to care for him until he was discharged.

He had assumed Pei Songji would return to his busy life, and they would naturally drift apart.

But he didn’t.

Pei Songji remained a constant presence in his life.

Good morning messages, catered meals delivered daily, frequent visits, even though Jing Ciying insisted he didn’t need any help. Pei Songji seemed to enjoy taking care of him.

Jing Ciying couldn’t understand it. Having been Pei Songji’s personal secretary, he knew how demanding and exhausting caregiving could be. But Pei Songji seemed unfazed, his enthusiasm unwavering.

He had gently, yet firmly, inserted himself into Jing Ciying’s life.

His carefully guarded boundaries were crumbling, but strangely, he didn’t mind.

Perhaps the anesthesia had affected his brain.

Although discharged, his recovery was slow; he couldn’t return to work yet.

Although Ji Shuhuai had kept his position open, he knew he wouldn’t be able to handle the workload, so he resigned.

Ji Shuhuai tried to dissuade him, but he was adamant. Ji Shuhuai respected his decision, paying him his full salary and offering a generous severance package.

He had no financial worries, at least not for a while. He could finally focus on what he truly wanted to do.

He had been a secretary since graduation, first for Pei Songji, then for Ji Shuhuai. Although his recent job had been in his field, it had been more about survival than passion. For seven years, he hadn’t pursued his own interests.

This illness felt like a second chance. He could finally explore his own potential.

He had an idea, but he hadn’t told anyone yet, especially not Pei Songji.

He knew Pei Songji would try to help him, but he had already received enough help. He didn’t want to be further indebted to him.

He only told him about his resignation.

Pei Songji was delighted, visiting him after work, subtly suggesting he return to Pei Group.

Not as a secretary, but in any position he wanted.

But Jing Ciying declined, saying he needed to rest before considering any job offers.

Pei Songji supported his decision.

He didn’t want Jing Ciying to work, not after such a serious illness. He wanted him to focus on his recovery.

Thanks to Pei Songji’s constant attention, the regular checkups, the carefully prepared meals, his recovery was swift.

But by the time he was well enough to go outside, winter had arrived.

Pei Songji’s plan for a ski trip was postponed, partly due to Jing Ciying’s health, partly due to his own busy schedule at the end of the year.

Jing Ciying didn’t mind. He had been developing his idea and started working on it.

He wanted to create a game.

He had some savings, but it wasn’t enough to develop a full-fledged game. He couldn’t afford a studio or hire a team of designers and programmers.

He didn’t have grand ambitions, just a simple game, something he could create on his own.

He had plenty of time, so he started working on his project, outlining the concept, the storyline, the gameplay. His ideas flowed freely, and he spent hours at his computer, often working late into the night.

He didn’t think much of it, but Pei Songji called every night, reminding him to get some sleep.

He often agreed but then continued working, feeling slightly guilty.

But he hadn’t been caught yet, so he had become accustomed to his occasional deception.

One night, as usual, Pei Songji called at 10:00 pm.

“Are you asleep?”

Jing Ciying, who was still working at his computer, glanced at the clock, surprised it was so late.

He was almost finished, so he said, “I’m about to go to bed.”

“Good. Get some rest. Don’t stay up too late.”

“I know.” He hung up and continued working.

A few minutes later, his phone rang again.

“What is it?” he asked, surprised by the second call. Was something wrong?

Pei Songji didn’t answer. “Are you asleep?”

“Yes,” he lied, glancing at the clock. 10:30 pm. It wasn’t that late. He just had to be asleep by 11:00.

He expected Pei Songji to hang up, but he asked, “If you’re asleep, why are you answering my phone?”

Pei Songji’s persistence was unusual.

Although his tone was neutral, Jing Ciying sensed a hint of annoyance.

“I wasn’t asleep yet,” he admitted, looking at his computer. Ten more minutes, and he would be finished. He promised himself he would go to bed after that.

Pei Songji just said “Okay” and hung up.

Jing Ciying, relieved, continued working.

A few minutes later, a knock came at his door.

Three measured knocks, then silence.

He recognized the pattern instantly. It was Pei Songji.

He panicked, quickly saving his work and closing his laptop, then stood up to answer the door.

But he hesitated.

He had said he was asleep. Should he pretend to have been woken up?

But the living room light was on; Pei Songji could see through the gap under the door. Turning it off now would be too obvious.

He didn’t know what to do.

His phone rang, the ringtone echoing through the apartment.

It was Pei Songji.

He knew he couldn’t avoid him any longer. He answered the call.

He hadn’t thought of an excuse yet, so he remained silent.

“Open the door,” Pei Songji’s voice said, cold and indifferent.