Chapter 11: The Sewers’ Wedding
“This one won’t do, this one won’t do, and this one is even worse...” Jing Yi glanced at the artist profiles and tossed them aside without a second thought.
In truth, these artists were mere supporting characters within a supporting cast, cannon fodder among NPCs in the entire novel. The original author had no real reason to lavish extensive descriptions on such fleeting characters who appeared briefly only to be eliminated swiftly.
Yet, to make the downfall of the sprawling Li family more believable and to highlight the protagonist’s underdog rise, the author deliberately planted one explosive plot device after another throughout the storyline, culminating in the Li family’s spiral and eventual ascent of the ragtag boy band.
When Jing Yi had followed the serialized story, he had noticed detailed descriptions of these minor characters and suspected the author of padding the text unnecessarily.
Now, however, Jing Yi was immensely grateful for that attention to detail, as it allowed him to help the Li family avoid those human traps in advance.
As Jing Yi sifted through the files, the office door swung open. Li Wenzhao entered, his face dark with displeasure.
“Oh dear, the warden has returned.”
The unofficial warden’s steps faltered.
“President,” Secretary Fan stood up.
“Hm.” Li Wenzhao impatiently tugged at his tie. “How are the candidate selections coming along?”
“...” Secretary Fan glanced at his hefty criminal law compendium, feeling as if he had been fishing all morning without a catch.
He was at a loss for how to report his progress. “...But Steward Jing has indeed shortlisted a few.”
Fan Ming pulled out several thin sheets from the drawer.
Just a few candidates.
From hundreds of artist profiles, they had been distilled into five slender pages. Surprising, wasn’t it?
Li Wenzhao blinked in mild shock.
So few?
He couldn’t fathom how the company’s background checks had been conducted to allow so many undesirable individuals to be presented openly. If any scandals involving these tainted artists broke, the entire branch would collapse, damaging the headquarters’ reputation and financial stability.
No wonder the steward mocked the place as a dumping ground for rubbish.
And he hadn’t been wrong.
Seeing Li Wenzhao’s unmoving expression and slightly darkening complexion, Jing Yi assumed he was displeased by the scant selection, fearing there weren’t enough candidates to sign. Hastily, he pressed down the criminal profiles on the desk. “These won’t do, really won’t, absolutely not!”
“If you dare sign them, they’ll make sure you go bankrupt.”
Li Wenzhao opened his mouth. “Secretary Fan, sign these five.”
Fan Ming hesitated. “What about the others...?”
Li Wenzhao’s voice rang with finality: “Terminate the contracts.”
The branch needed a thorough cleanup to rid itself of all the rubbish.
Fan Ming regarded Li Wenzhao and Jing Yi with uncertainty, feeling as if someone was playing a joke on him today.
“Understood, President. I’ll draft the termination contracts immediately.”
Li Wenzhao loosened the buttons of his jacket and sat down to rest. He suddenly noticed Jing Yi watching him suspiciously from across the room.
Li Wenzhao paused, took a deep breath, and listened carefully, realizing Jing Yi was murmuring to himself in thought.
“How did he just agree?”
“Does he know I’m here by some sort of transmigration?”
“No way, I’ve played the steward flawlessly, not a single flaw—he couldn’t have noticed.”
“But those artists...”
“Steward Jing.”
Li Wenzhao’s voice broke into Jing Yi’s thoughts. “Hm?”
Li Wenzhao tapped the desk lightly. “Get me a cup of tea.”
“Oh.” Jing Yi moved toward the water station in the corner.
As he walked, he kept glancing back at Li Wenzhao, sensing something amiss but unable to pinpoint it.
Tsk.
How strange.
“Could he have heard what I was thinking?”
Did the supernatural black-and-white guards’ divine ability somehow transfer onto Li Wenzhao?
Li Wenzhao’s fingers curled slightly.
Was he discovered so quickly? The steward was sharper than he expected.
But soon, Jing Yi muttered again.
“Impossible.”
“Then those two must be some kind of scam ghosts from the underworld.”
Li Wenzhao: ?
The tea had just been brewed by Fan Ming and was still piping hot. Jing Yi, momentarily distracted, poured it too full. He bent over, cupped his hands, and carefully carried it over to Li Wenzhao, moving slowly.
Li Wenzhao turned his head, watching the steward deliver the “bomb” with utmost care.
“President Li, your tea...”
“President.” There was a soft knock on the office door as Fan Ming entered with freshly drafted documents.
Jing Yi set down the tea cup a bit forcefully, causing some to spill. “Secretary Fan, is it time for lunch?”
Fan Ming checked his watch: 10:23 a.m.
Lunch was still an hour and seven minutes away.
“Not yet, Steward Jing,” Fan Ming adjusted his glasses.
“Then I...” Jing Yi froze, suddenly feeling Li Wenzhao’s firm grip on his wrist.
Jing Yi: ?
Li Wenzhao’s palm rested steadily on Jing Yi’s wrist, easily encircling it. Beneath his palm, he felt the other’s pulse flutter and the delicate wrist bones as if they might snap with the slightest pressure.
Li Wenzhao subtly rubbed his palm.
To an outsider, it might seem tinged with ambiguity.
Fan Ming: ...
Now he understood why Li Wenzhao tolerated Jing Yi’s disruptions to the branch.
Li Wenzhao pulled Jing Yi back to the small side desk, expression unreadable as he issued a command. “Write me a formal explanation for eliminating those artists earlier.”
Jing Yi: ?
Li Wenzhao tapped the half-foot-high stack of files. “If you want to cut so many, you owe me a reason.”
Jing Yi’s eyes widened in disbelief. You didn’t mention writing a report before.
As a recent graduate, even writing a simple essay was taxing for him, let alone a logically rigorous document.
No way.
He’d rather forfeit the twenty thousand yuan.
Jing Yi shifted his target. “Let Secretary Fan write it.”
Fan Ming solemnly kicked the task back. “Steward Jing, frankly, I don’t even understand why you’re eliminating so many.”
Jing Yi: ...
He stared pitifully. Fine, fine—we’re no longer comrades-in-arms.
· · ·
Li Wenzhao resumed work while Jing Yi carried a pile of criminal files to the side desk, pondering how to smooth things over.
From Li Wenzhao’s reactions, he seemed to have no supernatural powers and could not have heard Jing Yi’s thoughts; the earlier incident must have been coincidence.
...Right?
Jing Yi leaned on the desk, spinning a pen lazily like he was in a college political theory class—bored, tired, uninterested, listless.
His gaze caught the laptop in the corner. He glanced at the busy Li Wenzhao before quietly opening it.
“There are several data errors in this document.” Li Wenzhao furrowed his brows and called Fan Ming over. “Send it back to the planning department for revision. If such basic errors appear again, I’ll speak to their manager.”
“Understood.”
Li Wenzhao rubbed his temples and casually glanced sideways. The steward sat upright, expression serious, fingers flying across the keyboard.
Not bad. Very diligent.
Apparently, no more suspicions about his thoughts being overheard.
Li Wenzhao tilted his head, curious to see what Jing Yi was typing. His eyes landed on a colorful online mini-game displayed on the screen.
Two red and blue little figures flipped back and forth deftly, dodging every trap.
Li Wenzhao: “...”
· · ·
Jing Yi was engrossed in the game, oblivious to time. After an indeterminate stretch, his phone alarm rang at precisely 11:50—time to eat.
He turned off the alarm and looked at Li Wenzhao. “President, may I leave work now?”
The president’s office was on a high floor, separated from the cafeteria by over ten floors. Jing Yi wasn’t sure if there was any workplace food theft, so he had set the alarm ten minutes early to avoid missing out.
He asked so openly that Li Wenzhao felt awkward about arguing over those ten minutes. “Is the report finished?”
“Yes.”
Li Wenzhao: ???
Finished? You were gaming all morning!
With a thud, Jing Yi dropped a heavy object next to Li Wenzhao.
“I’m off now.”
A gust of wind swept past Li Wenzhao’s ear.
He looked down and saw a thick volume of the Criminal Law of the People’s Republic of China lying by the desk.
Li Wenzhao: “...”
· · ·
“Secretary Fan, Secretary Fan,” Jing Yi knocked on the secretary’s office door.
Fan Ming adjusted his sliding glasses and looked up. “Steward Jing.”
Jing Yi smiled brightly. “It’s lunchtime.”
Fan Ming glanced at his watch. “Actually, eight more minutes.”
“President approved it.”
Fan Ming stood, pulling a meal card from the drawer. “The cafeteria is on the 25th floor. Steward Jing, you can go on your own.”
Jing Yi smiled sheepishly. “I know the way; I just don’t have a meal card.”
Fan Ming: ...
Got it. He’s not a meal buddy—he’s merely the meal card carrier.
Jing Yi left work ten minutes early, hoping to claim a window seat and order whatever he liked. But the cafeteria was packed with office workers who had arrived early.
· · ·
“Secretary Fan.”
“Secretary Fan.”
Many greeted Fan Ming. As the president’s secretary, he deserved some respect.
Jing Yi was about to join the long queue when Fan Ming led him directly to a vacant window. “Two servings. Steward Jing, pick whatever you want.”
Jing Yi looked at the long line. “Aren’t we waiting?”
Fan Ming pushed up his glasses. “This is the president’s window, reserved for the 45th floor only.”
Jing Yi let out a small “wow.” “Doesn’t this count as abusing power?”
Fan Ming: ...
The Li Corporation’s lunch was excellent, with main courses, fresh fruit, and petit fours. What caught Jing Yi’s attention most were the ice cream machines tucked in a corner of the cafeteria!
This place wasn’t a company; it was a paradise for overworked employees.
Jing Yi stayed in the cafeteria until nearly back to work, eating two petit fours, three ice creams, and several fresh fruits.
Satisfied, he patted his belly and returned to the top floor.
In the afternoon, Li Wenzhao had endless meetings and barely stayed in his office. Li Wenzhao enjoyed the leisure and idled away the afternoon.
At 5 p.m., Li Corporation closed for the day.
Enduring another round in the transparent elevator, Jing Yi sprawled in his seat once back in the car.
Li Wenzhao glanced at him from the back seat. “Why didn’t you take the employee elevator?”
Jing Yi replied weakly, “The rush hour crowd—I didn’t want to catch the scent of fellow salary slaves.”
“...”
Serves you right.
The driver smoothly pulled away. Approaching the Li family estate, Jing Yi saw many workers by the roadside.
“President Li,” the driver said, “this area is under sewer maintenance. We’ll have to take a detour.”
Li Wenzhao leafed through documents in the back seat, his tone heavy with work fatigue. “Mm.”
Jing Yi’s fear of heights eased considerably; his trembling lessened as he casually admired the passing scenery.
The Li estate was vast. Avoiding a small maintenance stretch, the detour added thirty minutes to their journey.
Finally reaching the Li family gate, Jing Yi blinked and suddenly sat upright.
Outside the gate, Ning Jiang—the woman who had escaped from the hospital—appeared, clutching a large bouquet of vibrant, dewy roses. She was impeccably dressed, nothing like the bedridden, poorly made-up figure from days ago.
Soon after, Li Mingzhi also emerged.
The temperature inside the car seemed to drop abruptly.
??
Jing Yi turned thoughtfully and met Li Wenzhao’s cold, dark gaze.
Hiss... The novel was right—one look from the president could lower the temperature. More effective than air conditioning.
“Ning Jiang, you’re finally out,” she said, holding the flowers with a face full of joy.
The backseat air grew frigid, nearly freezing Jing Yi. He quickly opened the door and stepped out. “Young Master.”
“Steward Jing,” Li Mingzhi smiled slightly. “You and Eldest Brother are off work.”
“Yes. Is Young Master going out?” Jing Yi glanced at Ning Jiang.
“Ning Jiang,” she took the chance to cling to Li Mingzhi, gazing at him with tender affection. “I have great news! I’m not sick! I had a full checkup at a professional hospital—it was a misdiagnosis! Mingzhi, I’m so happy! I’m not ill! You must be relieved too.”
Li Mingzhi’s expression was cold. “Ha.”
Do I look happy?
[This swindler has switched tactics so fast. A habitual offender indeed.]
[Is he still trying to milk benefits from Li Mingzhi? Though last time, after escaping, Ning Jiang probably realized Li Mingzhi was alert. It’s harder to scam money now. This time, he might be after something else...]
[Hiss... Did Ning Jiang connect with illegal coal mines? Or get involved with organ traffickers?]
“...”
“Ning Jiang, I came today to propose to you.” Her face was filled with unfounded emotion and sincerity. “We’ve been through life and death and separation. It hasn’t been easy to hold on. Mingzhi, I love you. I want to be with you forever.”
“...”
“Ning Jiang!” She suddenly lunged before Li Mingzhi. “I want to marry you! I’m willing to join the Li family!”
“...” Jing Yi was startled by her sudden, dramatic move.
[What the heck.]
[Who still tries to leech off others like that?]
[Is she after joint marital property? Marrying just to snag a fortune? Greedy for everything, both food and shelter?]
Li Mingzhi looked at Ning Jiang soberly. He no longer had the impulsive romantic haze from days ago and regarded her as one would a clown hopping about.
“Ning Jiang, say yes,” she pleaded. “I’ll love you forever.”
Li Mingzhi suddenly sneered, rubbing his forehead as he chuckled quietly.
Just as Ning Jiang thought her plan was foolproof, the young master lifted his leg and kicked her straight into the open sewer outside the gate.
“Get lost, you jerk! Do you think I’m stupid? You’ve tried to scam me once, twice—not enough? Now you want to do it for a lifetime? Scram!”