Chapter 74: Eunuch Literature? Love to See It
[Host, the recording sample has been sent to your phone.]
Fu Yue clicked it to listen, and his face turned green.
It was from last week at the gym, during a Fartlek run. At the final sprint…
There was gasping, groaning, and several self-mutterings because he really couldn’t run anymore, like “Holy crap,” “I can’t do it,” “No strength left,” and “Almost there.”
“System, can you be any more insidious?” Fu Yue grit his teeth. “A running recording? Who the hell would hear that recording and believe I was running?!”
If that thing was played at the Ji Group’s annual meeting…
Fu Yue didn’t dare imagine how “beautiful” that scene would be.
“Ji Hanmo would probably throw me out the window on the spot!”
[Host, the system penalty is triggered automatically. I can’t do anything about it.]
The system defended itself pitifully.
[Besides, if you complete the plot smoothly, it won’t be triggered, right?]
Right? Of course right.
What else can I do?
Do I even have room to bargain?
“System, analyze for me where exactly the plot is stuck.”
[Host, analyzing plot progress…]
Fu Yue saw the problem at a glance. It was stuck at a key node:
In the original work, resolving the misunderstanding between the two required a romantic scene alone together. It happened in Chen Bai’s old, run-down rented apartment—
Ji Linyue went looking for him in the rain. As a result, they encountered a sudden power outage, and the smart door lock jammed.
It was the middle of winter, and the air conditioning had quit.
The two of them waited for a professional locksmith to arrive, huddling together on a single bed to keep warm…
The author used over ten thousand words to describe that night.
The first two thousand words covered the awkward silence, the trembling embrace, and finally their heart-to-heart and reconciliation.
The remaining eight thousand words were action scenes—so intense they didn’t hear the knocking on the door or the phone ringing.
No need to elaborate.
In short, Ji Linyue’s raspy “I will always believe in you” served as an important emotional anchor for the entire book.
But now…
Due to Fu Yue’s butterfly effect, Chen Bai had moved into Ji Linyue’s luxury mansion early on.
That little apartment had long been vacated.
A six-hundred-square-meter flat had guest rooms where you could play hide-and-seek.
—How the hell are they supposed to have a “stuck together” moment?!
Fu Yue clutched his hair in despair.
“System, the original scene at the apartment is gone. What should I do?”
[Host, you can create a new opportunity for them to be alone. Once they are alone, their feelings will naturally reach that point.]
Fu Yue: “Then it’s not too bad.”
He could use his wits.
Thus, Fu Yue’s life switched to “dual-core mode.”
On one hand, he had to find a way to crack the clues in that USB drive, while on the other, he had to figure out how to create a solo opportunity for Ji Linyue and Chen Bai.
In the afternoon, Fu Yue had just submitted a project report.
He let out a sigh of relief, pulled open a drawer, and fished out a bag of original-flavor potato chips. He also made a cup of caramel macchiato before sneakily shrinking back into his office chair.
Crunch. The sound was crisp.
Even though he had an independent office, his current behavior was exactly like a little employee slacking off in a cubicle.
He clicked on a website on his computer titled “Learning Materials.”
Inside were all sorts of high-rated romance novels.
The Overbearing CEO Falls for Me
The Billionaire Heir’s Runaway Fiancee
How to Make a Cold Roommate Proactively Hug You…
Fu Yue needed some inspiration for creating solo opportunities and finding scenes where feelings naturally intensified.
He glanced at the comment section.
[Key step: Pretend to sleepwalk and climb into his bed. Success rate: 99.98%.]
Fu Yue nodded and took note of this one.
Ji Linyue could use this later during the “Wife-Chasing Crematorium” arc.
[I suggest jumping straight to the last three chapters for this book. The speed is 280 mph.]
[Thanks, author! I tried this with my roommate, and he’s my husband now… but the court has barred me from coming within five hundred meters of him.]
Fu Yue clicked in. Three seconds later, his face turned red.
He copied all the verbs. He’d send them to Chen Bai in a bit.
[Tested and proven! My kid is three years old now!]
Fu Yue clicked in. Chen Bai didn’t have that function. Skip.
Just as Fu Yue was immersed in collecting inspiration for “solo” scenes, a message suddenly popped up from the 98th-floor secretariat group chat.
It was from Monica: “President Fu, the project report from last week has been uploaded.”
Fu Yue replied with a “Got it.”
The Finance Department would definitely have many opinions on that report. Fu Yue wasn’t in a hurry to look at it.
He opened a compressed file.
Inside were thousands of novel attachments he had just downloaded. Fu Yue began to organize them.
His mouse stopped on a file named Forced Love: The Cold Emperor and the Chief Eunuch (Latest chapter: “Your Majesty, please behave yourself. This servant is a real eunuch!”).
To Fu Yue, any stories with an ancient setting had no reference value.
With a potato chip in his mouth, Fu Yue was about to drag the file into the recycle bin.
Ding!
The 98th-floor group chat popped up with another message from Monica: “President Fu, Finance said they have no issues with that document.”
“…”
Finance had no issues.
But Fu Yue had a huge issue right now!
Because that sudden pop-up chat window had covered the recycle bin.
Whoosh!
The “Eunuch Literature” dropped precisely into the group chat.
Fu Yue: “…?”
He shot upright, wanting to click recall.
Then he remembered that the company’s internal chat software, to prevent backstabbing, didn’t have a recall function at all.
Through the glass door, Fu Yue could clearly see—
The colleagues in the secretariat area all looked up in unison, their gazes shooting toward his office. Their facial muscle control had completely collapsed.
The little secretary in the furthest corner was shaking so hard she’d already knocked her phone off the desk.
Fu Yue lowered his head again. The group chat interface on his computer screen starkly displayed:
[File downloaded: 12 times]
Fu Yue: “…”
That’s it. I can’t keep this job anymore.
Ten minutes later, Fu Yue bit the bullet and walked out of his office.
He saw Monica heading toward the pantry and wanted to give a casual explanation.
“The file was sent by mistake by a friend.”
“I was downloading it for a relative.”
“Actually, it’s research material regarding the subculture market.”
Sigh, this is too outrageous.
In the end, Fu Yue decided to use the most basic excuse: “Sent it to the wrong place.”
Simple, direct, and gave room for maneuver.
“President Fu,” Monica spoke first with a beaming smile, cutting off all of Fu Yue’s mental preparation. “No need to explain. We all understand.”
A little secretary behind Monica nodded frantically, her gaze full of maternal love.
“President Fu, we respect all niche preferences. There’s nothing wrong with liking this.”
Fu Yue: “…”
—You understand nothing!
Fu Yue returned to his office, dejected.
Although his reputation was ruined and his tastes likely misread, pushing the main plot was the most important thing.
After cramming three hours of melodramatic literature, Fu Yue attained enlightenment.
Using a science student’s mind, he summarized a formula: Enclosed space + Accidental incident = Forced physical contact.
His deep “academic research” helped him lock onto a perfect location—
The elevator.
That thing was practically a high-incidence zone for romantic accidents:
In movies and TV, elevators can cause wall-slams, heavy breathing, and intense eye contact.
In novels, a power failure can trigger a “It’s so cold… hold me tight…”
Even the current company’s safety guide wrote: “In case of failure, please hold onto the handrail tightly”—
If two people held it together, wouldn’t that basically be wrapping an arm around a waist?!
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