Chapter 11: Showering the Moment I Arrive
What should I do? Go and beg Ji Hanmo with my head lowered?
Once the initiative was in Ji Hanmo’s hands, what would that man do to him?
Various bizarre, R-rated images began to appear uncontrollably in Fu Yue’s mind.
Actually, in the past, he wouldn’t even have dreamed of these images.
But since coming to this world, he had been influenced by what he saw and heard.
Fu Yue found the things in his head becoming more and more “off.”
Sometimes, he would dream of himself wrapped around the man.
Ties, leather shoes, half-undone shirts—and Ji Hanmo’s eyes, as calm as deep pools yet flickering with fire…
[Warning! Host’s heart rate exceeds 130, blood pressure rising rapidly. Please remain calm!]
The system’s notification made Fu Yue’s face turn even redder.
“F*ck…” Fu Yue cursed under his breath.
The cold wind from outside wasn’t enough; he turned on the cold air conditioning in the car to rescue his nearly fully-cooked cheeks.
Along the way, Fu Yue began to weigh the pros and cons.
On one side was the imminent threat of being obliterated by the system; on the other was… possibly having to sell out a bit of his appearance and dignity.
For the sake of the mission and the hundred million reward, having a man playfully swat his backside a few times… it seemed, it seemed not entirely unacceptable?
But the problem was, both times Ji Hanmo had close contact with him, he clearly had a reaction.
What if he made further demands, something more than just a few swats? What should he do then?
A war was raging in Fu Yue’s heart, a conflict of contradictions. He didn’t even notice that he had driven to the base of the Ji Group headquarters.
In the night, this landmark building of Haicheng stood silently—cold and majestic.
Fu Yue sat in the car for a full ten minutes before summoning the courage to push the door open and step out.
“I’m sorry, sir. Without an appointment, President Ji won’t see anyone.” The receptionist girl refused him helplessly.
Fu Yue read a bit of a hidden meaning in her eyes—the boss especially doesn’t want to see you, Fu Yue.
Fu Yue didn’t give up and quietly slipped into an elevator.
But the exclusive elevator leading to the 98th-floor Chairman’s office required facial recognition or a high-level staff card authorization.
Fu Yue leaned his face in, and the screen coldly displayed the words “Not Invited.”
He tried to slip up through the fire escape, but as soon as he pushed open the heavy fire door, he was politely “escorted” out by a burly security guard on duty.
Ji Hanmo had truly isolated him from his world.
Fu Yue leaned against the cold marble wall of the lobby, searching for a final hope.
He looked up, his gaze falling back on the nearby reception desk.
He walked over, deciding to try his luck with the “Halo.”
“Hey there.” Fu Yue smiled, forcing his voice into a late-night male broadcaster’s tone. “Could you—give me a hand?”
Fu Yue was putting on an act, feeling like he was about to “vomit” at himself internally.
The receptionist girl looked up. The moment their eyes met, her cheeks visibly flushed.
She instinctively tucked her hair behind her ear. “What do you need?”
Fu Yue leaned in, intentionally closing the distance between them.
“Could you give me Monica’s private number?” He blinked. “Just this once, okay?”
One minute later.
“Hello?” The call connected, and a capable female voice came through.
“Miss Monica, it’s me, Fu Yue.” Fu Yue cleared his throat.
“Young Master Fu, please speak.” The other party didn’t hang up on him.
This gave Fu Yue a bit of confidence.
“I have some… personal business. I want to find President Ji. He might be angry with me and isn’t taking my calls.” Fu Yue kept his posture very low. “Could you tell him for me that… I left something at his place a few days ago. It’s very important, and I must come to get it in person.”
There was a silence on the other end of the line.
Fu Yue was going all out, intentionally making his words sound ambiguous.
“Personal business,” “angry with me,” and “left something”—when these words were combined, it was hard not to imagine something.
After a few seconds of silence, Monica’s voice rang out again: “Please wait a moment.”
This wait of a few minutes felt like a century to Fu Yue.
Finally, the internal line at the reception desk rang.
The receptionist girl answered. After listening for a few moments, she immediately stood up to lead the way for Fu Yue: “Young Master Fu, Chairman Ji has asked you to go up.”
The exclusive elevator stopped smoothly on the 98th floor, and the doors slowly opened.
Fu Yue composed himself and stepped into this territory belonging to Ji Hanmo.
The corridor was covered with thick carpet, absorbing all sound.
The air was filled with a faint scent of cedar—calm and restrained, yet carrying an invisible pressure.
Fu Yue pushed open those heavy solid wood doors once again and walked into the office.
Ji Hanmo was sitting behind the desk, still looking down at documents.
It was almost identical to the first time he came.
Fu Yue just stood there, ignored by him for a full five minutes.
It wasn’t until Ji Hanmo signed the final document that he slowly raised his head.
The man’s features were as sharp as if carved by a knife under the light; the lines of his brow and nose were fierce yet elegant. Those eyes remained as deep as the night.
“Speak then, Young Master Fu.” Ji Hanmo’s voice was somewhat playful. “What ‘important’ thing did you leave here with me?”
Ji Hanmo specifically emphasized the word “important,” his gaze like that of a hunter, looking with interest at the prey that had stepped into the trap.
Fu Yue felt his heart pounding like a drum.
He knew that in front of this man, concealment was futile.
So, he chose to get straight to the point.
“Chairman Ji, I want to borrow the Ji Group’s AI lab to analyze a technical vulnerability in an ECU.”
Fu Yue explained the technical issues with the racing car’s ECU and the difficulty of cracking the encryption.
Ji Hanmo listened quietly to his narrative.
Fu Yue’s tone was confident as he spoke those professional terms, his delivery smooth.
Ji Hanmo’s face held no expression—neither surprise nor impatience.
It wasn’t until Fu Yue finished that he slowly stood up and paced over to him.
His height brought a powerful sense of pressure to Fu Yue.
“Is it something from Ji Linyue?” he spoke faintly, his tone unreadable.
Fu Yue’s eyes flickered, neither admitting nor denying: “I went to the racing club to play and found that the cars there have some issues.”
“You certainly care about him.” Ji Hanmo paused. “If it’s his thing, have him come tell me himself.”
Fu Yue was left speechless, but he didn’t want to give up.
“Chairman Ji,” Fu Yue looked up, summoning the courage to look him directly in the eye, “You are a businessman. Name your terms. What will it take for you to help?”
“Terms?” Ji Hanmo let out a light laugh.
Suddenly, he used his cold fingertips to firmly grip Fu Yue’s chin, forcing him to tilt his head higher. “Do you think you’re in any position to negotiate terms with me?”
“Or rather,” he moved closer, his breath almost brushing Fu Yue’s lips, “What are you willing to pay in exchange for my help?”
The air between them seemed to slow down.
Two confronting men—one dominant, one stubborn.
In the quiet office, the atmosphere bounced repeatedly between the edge of hostility and burgeoning intimacy.
Fu Yue’s body became tense because of his touch, but he didn’t dodge.
He knew that showing weakness would only make the other person push further.
Looking into Fu Yue’s clear eyes, Ji Hanmo’s gaze darkened.
Finally, he let go.
“That eloquent mouth of yours,” Ji Hanmo spoke slowly, “In a while, I’ll make you keep it shut.”
After saying this, Ji Hanmo tilted his chin, pointing to the lounge next to the office.
“Go take a shower. You smell like engine oil; it’s disgusting.”
“…”
Fu Yue was stunned.
A shower? What kind of condition was this?
Washing clean, and then what?
The thought made his cheeks burn once again.
But the current situation was that he had proposed the exchange of conditions; it seemed he had no room to refuse.
“What? Unwilling?” Seeing him not moving, Ji Hanmo arched an eyebrow. “I will have many demands of you later, but I won’t force you.”
Ji Hanmo’s posture was relaxed: “As long as you’re unwilling, you can leave at any time.”
With that, he pointed toward the office door.
Seeing this, Fu Yue could only forcibly suppress the “small movies” playing in his head and walked stiffly toward the small door on one side of the office. Taking a shower wasn’t too excessive a demand for now.
Ji Hanmo’s lounge wasn’t large.
Inside was a small bathroom and a single bed.
The bed looked like it had been slept in; perhaps he often spent the night in the office.
Fu Yue had no desire for further observation and took off his clothes to enter the shower.
Hot water poured down from above, washing his body but unable to wash away the unease in his heart.
Fu Yue dawdled in the bathroom for nearly two hours, until his skin was soaked red.
There was no sound outside; no one hurried him, and no one knocked.
But he felt he couldn’t hide inside like an ostrich forever.
After all, the problem wasn’t solved yet.
He dried his body and his hair. Looking at his pile of clothes tossed in the corner—
Ji Hanmo had just complained that he smelled like engine oil, so those clothes definitely couldn’t be worn again.
He turned to the clothes rack. Hanging there were a few pieces of clothing that clearly belonged to Ji Hanmo. The collars and cuffs were slightly wrinkled, showing they had been worn.
Walking out wearing clothes Ji Hanmo had worn would be an outright seduction.
After weighing it for three seconds, he decisively grabbed the cotton bathrobe hanging at the bathroom door, wrapped himself tightly, and walked out.
Outside, Ji Hanmo was still working, as if he had forgotten about him.
Hearing the footsteps, he finally raised his eyes from the documents and swept a faint glance over him.
His gaze lingered on Fu Yue’s hand clutching the collar, his expression playful.
“That afraid of me?” he said faintly. “It’s not as if I haven’t seen your body before.”
Ji Hanmo was telling the truth.
That night in the presidential suite, Fu Yue had fallen onto the sofa with his bathrobe wide open; his coverage had been almost zero.
“Chairman Ji, what exactly do you want?” Fu Yue asked with a frown.
Only then did Ji Hanmo put down his fountain pen, lean back into his chair, and interlock his fingers before him, looking at him with a scrutinizing gaze.
“The lab outside has already started working overtime to analyze the data.”
Fu Yue was startled.
“Until I get the final results,” the corners of Ji Hanmo’s mouth curled slightly, but his words made a chill run down Fu Yue’s spine, “You will stay here and accept my ‘training’.”
Recommended Reads
