Chapter 3#
“You’re back!”
Ji Liao turned around and saw Wen Qiu, his eyes lighting up.
His attitude was genuine—his boss was giving him a chance to shine, so of course he was thrilled!
But Wen Qiu’s gaze darkened.
He still remembered the absurd things he’d done in his past life.
He had run into Ji Liao, a waiter at a restaurant, and because the man’s posture and demeanor were so strikingly similar to Lou Yue’s, he’d investigated him, coerced him, forced him to sign an agreement, and bound the man to his side.
He had once believed he’d been generous enough with Ji Liao. He’d solved Ji Liao’s problems and given him a comfortable life. The only requirement was that Ji Liao stay by his side—Ji Liao should have been grateful.
But he’d been wrong.
Later, Ji Liao had driven a car straight into Lou Yue.
So Ji Liao had hated him all along.
He understood now.
Though the table was full of delicious, tempting food, Wen Qiu didn’t spare it a glance.
He simply sat down at the table with an impassive expression, fixed his gaze on Ji Liao, and said:
“Ji Liao, sit.”
“Yes, sir!”
When the boss gave an order, Ji Liao naturally obeyed, taking a seat on the other side of the table.
Wen Qiu was silent for a moment before speaking flatly:
“Let’s dissolve the agreement. You can go.”
“Huh?”
Ji Liao’s face filled with panic, as if he’d just been struck by lightning.
Wen Qiu furrowed his brow slightly.
In his memory, Ji Liao was a man of few words—and coincidentally, so was he.
So they rarely communicated, and Wen Qiu had never been interested in understanding Ji Liao’s state of mind.
He hadn’t even noticed such a lively expression on the man’s face.
No wonder he’d failed to detect Ji Liao’s hostility toward Lou Yue.
That accident—it was his fault.
He couldn’t let what happened in his past life repeat itself.
Wen Qiu continued: “You don’t need to return the five hundred thousand from yesterday. I’ll compensate you with an additional five hundred thousand.”
Ji Liao: “…”
How come the plot wasn’t developing as expected?
The man across from him was saying that he could now get a million, as if the agreement had never existed?
How was this any different from winning the lottery?
In the novels he’d read in his past life, protagonists always won billions in the lottery. A million was nothing compared to that.
But the billions in novels could only be looked at, never touched.
This million, though, was something he could actually get his hands on right now!
Ji Liao struggled to suppress the upward twitch of his lips.
He knew Wen Qiu would follow through.
In the original novel, Wen Qiu had been extremely generous with the original host. Not only did he pay the monthly fees on time, but he’d also occasionally “humiliate” the original host with material gifts.
No wonder the original host later developed Stockholm syndrome and fell for the villain.
Who could resist being showered with money?!
But wait!
He suddenly remembered the housing prices he’d looked up this afternoon.
If he took this million, it would be a one-time deal.
It sounded like a lot, but it wasn’t enough to buy a house!
And then what?
He’d have to go back to working his fingers to the bone from dawn till dusk like in his past life? Even if he scraped together a down payment, he’d still be buried in a twenty-year mortgage?
If he hadn’t transmigrated into this book, he could have endured it.
But now that he had hope of buying a house outright, he suddenly couldn’t accept going back to a mortgage!
Ji Liao remained silent for a long time, and Wen Qiu spoke flatly:
“I’ll add another million.”
Ji Liao: “?”
Before Ji Liao could react, Wen Qiu continued:
“Two million.”
Ji Liao: “…”
Wen Qiu: “Three million.”
Ji Liao: “!”
Since when did this turn into an auction?!
Wen Qiu: “Five million.”
“Stop!”
Ji Liao felt like he couldn’t breathe. Forgetting all decorum, he hastily called out.
Wen Qiu furrowed his brows, a look of displeasure on his face.
Ji Liao swallowed hard and steeled himself:
“I don’t agree.”
He wasn’t stupid. He could tell the difference between one full meal and a lifetime of meals.
“Hm?”
Now it was Wen Qiu’s turn to be puzzled.
Since he’d already made his stance clear, Ji Liao boldly met Wen Qiu’s gaze.
His jet-black hair was combed back neatly, and his cold, pale skin was flawless. The glasses on his nose couldn’t hide the depth of his peach-blossom eyes, but the gaze that met Ji Liao’s through the lenses was utterly indifferent.
Such breathtaking beauty, and yet such aloof detachment.
That was right—the villain only cared about the protagonist. He looked at everyone else like they were ants.
But Ji Liao had to fight for this.
He said: “You’re the one who brought me here, so you have to take responsibility. Why should I sign the agreement just because you say so, and leave just because you say so?”
Thankfully, he hadn’t transmigrated into some angsty torture novel. If he’d gotten a murderous villain instead, he wouldn’t dare speak like this.
Of course, Wen Qiu wasn’t a pushover either—he might send his bodyguards to throw Ji Liao out by force.
But such a good “job opportunity”—he couldn’t let it go!
He wouldn’t fall in love with Wen Qiu like the original host had, trying to win Wen Qiu’s heart.
He would absolutely behave himself, only wanting Wen Qiu’s money!
Once the words left his mouth, there was no turning back. Ji Liao slammed the table and stood up, declaring indignantly:
“Anyway, I don’t agree!”
Having said that, he didn’t wait for Wen Qiu’s reaction. He turned and strode off, then clattered up the stairs.
Only after he’d shut the door behind him did he take deep breaths to steady his trembling hands.
How bizarre. Why wasn’t the plot following the original novel?
Downstairs, Wen Qiu was equally puzzled.
Wen Qiu remembered that no matter how forceful he’d been before, Ji Liao had never raised his voice.
It wasn’t until a “bang” echoed from upstairs as the door slammed shut that Wen Qiu belatedly realized something—Ji Liao was angry.
Ji Liao could get angry?
At this moment, Wen Qiu’s confusion far outweighed any anger at being shouted at. He turned to the table, silently picked up his chopsticks, and took a bite of food.
Delicious.
Why did Ji Liao refuse to leave?
Ji Liao listened nervously for any sound from outside the door.
But there was nothing.
No bodyguards appeared, and Wen Qiu didn’t come up.
He waited until he was starving, and still nothing happened.
But he was too embarrassed to go out and scavenge for food, so he endured the hunger, washed up early, and went to sleep.
The next morning, he got up at the crack of dawn to prepare breakfast.
When Wen Qiu came downstairs, he was once again drawn to the kitchen by the aroma.
Ji Liao saw Wen Qiu arrive but said nothing—he simply placed the freshly steamed dumplings on the table.
The table already had vegetable pancakes and red date and silver ear fungus congee.
After finishing, Ji Liao took off his apron, lowered his gaze, and stood to the side, obediently awaiting Wen Qiu’s judgment.
He’d thought it through. He couldn’t offend Wen Qiu any further. Taking the money and leaving was fine too—how many people never even see five million in their entire lives? He shouldn’t be too greedy.
After the scraping sound of a chair being pulled out, Wen Qiu spoke: “Did you make this or buy it?”
“I made it all myself!”
Ji Liao knew how to seize an opportunity and quickly touted his own merits: “I don’t have a key, and I was afraid I couldn’t get back in if I went out, so I could only work with whatever ingredients were in the fridge. The variety is limited, but the quality is guaranteed. I’m not bragging—with my cooking skills, I could easily run a restaurant.”
He wasn’t lying. He used to have a video account where he posted his daily lunchboxes, and his followers loved them.
Roughly speaking, that was just like running a restaurant, right?
Wen Qiu gave a noncommittal nod and took a spoonful of congee.
“Cook to this standard from now on.”
“Huh?”
Ji Liao’s eyes suddenly lit up.
He’d kept his job?
Wen Qiu didn’t offer any further explanation. After finishing his meal, he washed up and prepared to head out.
Ji Liao was overwhelmed by the unexpected favor. Mimicking characters from TV dramas, he fetched Wen Qiu’s coat and laid out his leather shoes, respectfully seeing Wen Qiu off at the front door.
Before leaving, Wen Qiu turned around, saw the brightness in Ji Liao’s eyes, and his cold expression softened just a fraction.
He said: “Think of a number yourself. The dissolution takes effect anytime.”
Ji Liao: “…”
The flower of joy in his heart had barely begun to bloom before it got stuck again.
“I’m not leaving.”
He said stubbornly.
No way—where else could he find a job paying 500k a month? He’d even be willing to hug Wen Qiu’s thigh and beg to be taken in right now!
Wen Qiu gave no indication of his thoughts. His tone remained cold:
“The spare key is in the second drawer of the entryway cabinet.”
“Got it!”
Ji Liao’s expression changed instantly, beaming so wide he looked like he was blooming. He said cheerfully: “Take care, Mr. Wen! I’ll have dinner ready when you get back!”
Wen Qiu hummed in acknowledgment, unlocked the car, and got in.
The Maybach drove out of the garage and onto the main road. From the rearview mirror, he watched the garage door slowly descend, Ji Liao’s figure disappearing from view.
Someone waiting for him to come home—that feeling was far too unfamiliar to Wen Qiu.
He had already hurt Ji Liao once.
He didn’t want to hurt him a second time.
Ji Liao didn’t want to leave, so he could stay for now. It made no difference.
Ji Liao waited until the garage door was fully closed before humming a tune and running to the entryway.
Sure enough, he found the key.
That was close. He’d almost been “laid off.”
Carrying the relief of a narrow escape, Ji Liao couldn’t help but wonder—why on earth had Wen Qiu wanted to dissolve the agreement?
Was it a butterfly effect caused by him transmigrating into the book?
And what about afterward?
As a working man, he knew the value of preparing for a rainy day. He’d managed to get by this time, but judging from Wen Qiu’s tone, the man might still kick him out at any moment.
Key in hand, Ji Liao turned to find his phone.
He needed to sort out his thoughts.
Opening his memo app, he combed through the plot again.
In the original novel, the storyline involving the original host and the villain was basically all about bed scenes. And the first thing he’d done after transmigrating was miss the first bed scene.
Then Wen Qiu had proposed dissolving the agreement.
In other words, the plot had started collapsing the moment he missed that bed scene?
No good—if things kept collapsing like this, Wen Qiu would definitely kick him out again!
He’d finally found his one and only money god!
He had to find a way to get the plot back on track!