Chapter 82: A Passionate Shopping Spree for “Daily Necessities”
Fu Yue scrolled his mouse, navigating a shopping website displayed on his massive 32-inch monitor.
The screen was filled with “forbidden knowledge.”
First, there were various colorful little square boxes, accompanied by giant text highlighting keywords like “Ultra-Thin” and “Warming Sensation.”
Scrolling further down, there were uniquely shaped silicone products, paired with images of feathers or fluffy pom-poms.
Fu Yue’s finger hovered over the mouse, unsure of which one to click…
His phone vibrated—an unknown number.
Fu Yue answered the call.
“Mr. Fu, regarding your request to arrange a meeting with Mr. Jiang, I haven’t made any progress on my end yet.”
The caller was an assistant from Jiang Ying’s studio.
Fu Yue had quietly pulled some strings through Zhou Fengjun to find this person.
“Mmh,” Fu Yue acknowledged. He didn’t feel particularly disappointed; this was entirely expected.
“However, there is another piece of news. I’m not sure if it’s of any use to you.”
“Speak.”
“A master architect that Mr. Jiang deeply respected, Mr. Mo Fan, passed away recently.”
Mo Fan. The name sounded somewhat familiar.
But Fu Yue wasn’t in the architectural design industry, so he wasn’t well-acquainted with it.
“That master…” Suddenly, a muffled commotion erupted on the other end of the line, and the assistant’s voice abruptly cut off.
“Hello?” Fu Yue frowned.
“Someone’s coming. I can’t talk right now.” Two seconds later, the voice resumed. “Also, please don’t contact me anymore. If Mr. Jiang finds out, I won’t be able to survive in this industry.”
The call ended hastily.
Holding the disconnected phone, Fu Yue let out a sigh.
The more beautiful the youth, the more—the more—
Ruthless and cold-hearted.
Like a snow lotus blooming on the edge of a cliff, drawing a safe boundary and refusing to let anyone take a single step closer.
After finishing the call, Fu Yue’s gaze returned to the computer screen to continue his “shopping.”
The last time he had smuggled those two boxes of “Strawberry XL” from Chen Bai into Ji Hanmo’s office, he had promised to restock them in order to cover his lie.
Now, as a virgin, he had to seriously compare the specs of various products, reading parameters while simultaneously cursing himself:
“Fu Yue, you really are a piece of work.”
“You dug a hole and buried yourself, and now you have to shovel the dirt yourself.”
Ultimately, he placed an order for a few “Critically Acclaimed Kings.”
Thinking about it, that didn’t feel like enough.
So he ordered a few more “Sales Champions.” Right before closing the website, he even added a few “High-Tech Flagship” models to his cart.
Now he felt reassured.
He had perfectly covered the three major requirements: “Safety,” “Comfort,” and “Outrageousness.”
After that, all he had to do was wait for the packages to arrive.
Having completed this “massive project,” he leaned back in his ergonomic chair, eating potato chips while peering through the glass doors at the secretarial pool outside—
Monica was currently smiling warmly, conversing with a department head.
Over the past few days, there had been a constant stream of people in and out of the secretarial office.
Some handed over invitations; others “casually” dropped off a box of premium bird’s nest.
Some directly asked how they should gauge the “wind direction” for this year’s debriefings.
And Monica—
She twirled a fountain pen, handling everything with effortless grace.
She didn’t decline a single gift she was supposed to accept, yet she didn’t leak a single word she wasn’t supposed to share.
Fu Yue noticed that the people who actually came to do real work were “coincidentally” informed by Monica precisely when the Chairman was in his best mood: You may go in now.
That was the mark of a true master.
Fu Yue couldn’t help but let out a low whistle. Unexpectedly, Monica suddenly turned her head and winked at him through the glass.
Fu Yue: “…”
He’d been caught.
She was far too sharp; no wonder she managed to stay by Ji Hanmo’s side.
Fu Yue withdrew his gaze.
He glanced at the clock in the bottom right corner of his computer. One minute left until quitting time.
The elevator descended smoothly.
Beyond the glass curtain wall, the city’s evening lights were just beginning to glow.
The evening rush hour traffic flowed like a river of radiant colors.
At this moment, Ji Hanmo was likely still busy in his office. Lately, he often didn’t clock out until the early hours of the morning.
The domineering CEOs in novels always had so much free time.
But that was a privilege reserved strictly for protagonists.
And Ji Hanmo was merely a tool-man older brother meant to run the company for the protagonist, Ji Linye.
Today, Fu Yue hadn’t asked the driver to pick him up. In the downtown CBD, the Christmas atmosphere was already overwhelming.
Neon lights cascaded from skyscrapers, intertwining into the massive outlines of Christmas trees.
Inside the mall display windows, reindeer plushies bobbed their heads to the beat of festive music.
Almost every store’s glass doors were decorated with faux snow spray.
The sweet aroma of cinnamon and caramel drifted from a dessert shop.
Infected by the Christmas spirit, Fu Yue pushed the door open and walked in.
When he emerged, he was carrying an elegant box tied with a ribbon.
Ding-ling, the shop door closed.
Fu Yue was just about to cross the street when he caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye—
Crouching by the utility pole in front of the shop was a little boy in a worn-out padded jacket.
The child looked to be about seven or eight. He clutched a tattered plush toy to his chest, his eyes fixed on the dessert shop’s display window.
Fu Yue paused his steps.
He walked over.
The child, startled, scrambled backward while still crouching, nearly falling on his butt.
“Don’t be afraid.”
Fu Yue bent down and reached out to catch him.
The child was very thin and light; Fu Yue stabilized him effortlessly.
The boy’s face was flushed red, his dark, bright eyes looking up timidly.
“I was just looking. I won’t steal anything,” the child said, staring at Fu Yue nervously.
Fu Yue seemed to understand what he was afraid of.
He crouched down, bringing himself to the little boy’s eye level.
“Merry Christmas—I can’t finish this, so it’s for you.”
He offered the dessert box to the child. “I don’t want to waste it. Could you help me finish it?”
The boy froze.
He wiped his grubby little hands on the hem of his jacket, then carefully took the box.
“Th-thank you, sir.” His voice was tiny.
“No need to thank me. You’re doing me a favor; I should be the one thanking you.”
Fu Yue stood up, waved goodbye to him, and went to wait by the crosswalk for the light to change.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the boy sprint toward an elderly man in ragged clothes in the distance, hoisting the box up like a priceless treasure.
The old man seemed a bit flustered, bowing repeatedly in Fu Yue’s direction.
A Christmas-themed tram came to a halt at the intersection.
The traffic light turned from red to green.
Fu Yue crossed the road and entered a supermarket on the opposite side.
It had been years since he last strolled through a supermarket.
When he was a kid, he always looked forward to going to the supermarket. He thought of it as a magical place full of food and fun.
But living with relatives, he never dared to pick up the things he actually wanted.
Later, when he started working, e-commerce became so advanced that he could buy everything on his phone and have it delivered right to his door. There was no need, nor the time, to wander around a supermarket.
Who would have thought that this childhood dream would actually be realized inside a novel world.
He pushed a metal shopping cart, the wheels clattering loudly.
He didn’t have a clear goal; he just meandered through the aisles.
Not far away, a young couple was quietly debating what to eat for dinner. The girl wanted pasta; the boy wanted hotpot. In the end, they decided to buy ingredients for both.
At the other end of the aisle, a housewife was meticulously comparing the prices of milk.
Fu Yue stopped in front of the freezer section.
After hesitating for a moment, he debated between chive-and-egg or celery-and-pork fillings before finally settling on a bag of frozen chive-and-egg dumplings. He casually grabbed a six-pack of beer as well.
Passing by the fresh produce section, he picked out some bright red tomatoes and a carton of free-range eggs.
His cooking skills were actually quite decent.
His parents had passed away early, so from a young age, he had to handle a lot of things himself.
Carrying two large bags of loot, he took a taxi home.
Upon entering, Fu Yue took off his suit jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves.
He lined up the ingredients on the kitchen counter.
Water rushed over the tomatoes, washing them clean.
Eggs were cracked against the rim of a bowl, the golden yolks swirling into a vortex under the rapid beat of his chopsticks.
Sizzle.
On the other side, the water in the electric pot reached a boil, and the plump dumplings tumbled in.
In a leisurely mood, he tore open a pack of pre-marinated chicken thighs, arranged them on a baking sheet, and shoved them into the oven.
The aroma of food permeated the luxurious villa.
Soon, Fu Yue wiped down the cutting board and used a paper towel to soak up the last drop of water on the counter.
A steaming plate of tomato and egg stir-fry, a serving of plump, white chive dumplings, and a plate of sizzling, fragrant roasted chicken thighs were waiting for him on the dining table.
He popped the tab on a beer.
Ding-dong—
Just as Fu Yue’s chopsticks picked up a dumpling, the doorbell rang.
He frowned, set down his chopsticks, and walked to the entryway.
The security monitor only showed a blurry shadow. Someone was standing outside but intentionally avoiding the camera.
Fu Yue’s finger hovered over the door handle, hesitating for a second.
“Who is it?”
“Who else could it be? Open the door!”
Translator’s Note:
- Strawberry XL: Fu Yue’s previous cover story comes back to haunt him! Now he has to stock up just in case anyone asks.
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