He returned the safe to its place, locked the drawer, closed the cabinet doors, and the walk-in closet’s main door automatically shut.
After carefully checking every lock layer according to the steps he had taken to open it, Qi Ji finally stopped.
The closet’s sensor door slowly closed, hiding all the brightly colored, playful pajamas.
Qi Ji stood facing the closet, hesitating for a long while. He shifted his feet twice, seemingly trying to leave, but ultimately couldn’t resist. His feet turned on their own, and he walked toward the large bed behind him.
The bedroom door was still locked from the inside, and there was no one else in the room. Even knowing it was a secure, enclosed space, Qi Ji instinctively held his breath.
He tiptoed to the bed, carefully reached out, and touched the cat plush’s front paw.
…So soft.
The paw’s texture was excellent; pressing it created a small indentation. The stuffing inside was generous, making the entire cat look plump and round.
Beyond the filling, the plush’s outer material felt especially nice—soft, smooth, almost as if it wanted to cling to the hand that touched it. Pulling away felt impossible.
Qi Ji carefully touched the pink paw pads, pressed the plush’s belly…
But this was someone else’s property. Just touching it was already impolite. Qi Ji forced himself to withdraw his hand.
He would have loved to hug the long cat plush, rub its belly, and even nuzzle it.
Qi Ji had always loved soft things—bedding, cushions, plush toys—but his financial situation hadn’t allowed him to indulge in them.
He smoothed out the areas he had touched, so as not to disturb the CEO’s use, and lingered by the bed for a few more moments before finally turning to leave the second-floor bedroom.
Back in the guest room on the first floor, Qi Ji didn’t rush to work. Instead, he logged into his account and searched for cat plush projects, hoping to see if he could take on work involving modeling or similar deliverables in exchange for a sample from a vendor.
As luck would have it, he did find two potential clients. But because of the keyword search, Star—who was on call 24/7—started sending him kitten videos again.
This time, Qi Ji didn’t indulge. He manually closed the kitten videos and instead projected a documentary on tiger growth, which ran all night. As a result, when he went to sleep, the echo of roaring tigers still lingered in his ears.
Fierce. Majestic.
The next day was Monday—the first day back at work after Qi Ji’s extended sick leave. His leg had mostly recovered. He had planned to walk out of the villa complex to take the subway, but Uncle Xu, coincidentally heading out, gave him a ride to a nearby YunTu street intersection, so Qi Ji only walked a short distance.
Not long after getting off, Qi Ji received a transfer notification.
It was his 50,000 yuan part-time salary.
Technically, it was the second day after the agreed period, so the payment was due.
Yet Qi Ji couldn’t help frowning.
He hadn’t actually done anything yet. After signing the contract, he hadn’t even seen the CEO. And yet, the CEO had been so punctual, transferring the money directly.
Qi Ji didn’t fully understand the terms of the agreement. This so-called “salary” far exceeded what he was capable of, leaving him uneasy.
That unease lingered as he stepped into the company.
He calculated: even accounting for full internship length, he’d only been on the job for three months. Now, he’d been absent for so long—it hardly counted as a good performance.
Even ignoring evaluation, he had no idea how much work he had fallen behind on.
With a slightly anxious heart, Qi Ji took the elevator and entered the design department…
Then—“Bang!”—a muffled sound came from above, and confetti rained down.
“Congratulations, Xiao Qi, on your recovery!”
“Wishing you health and safety!!”
Young colleagues shouted at the top of their lungs, almost straining their voices. The girls laughed and banged inflatable sticks together.
The office was lively and cheerful; everyone shouted in unison:
“Welcome back, Xiao Qi~”
Qi Ji froze, standing at the doorway in shock.
He had never expected… so many people to welcome him back.
The design department wasn’t large, yet everyone was present, with a few familiar faces added in. One figure near the door leapt forward, seemingly about to give him a bear hug.
“Xiao Qi~ long time no see!”
Qi Ji’s medication hadn’t fully worn off yet. He was bundled up tightly, mask still on. He could have dodged, but his legs felt glued to the floor, preventing him from retreating.
“Ah! Neck, neck!”
Before the hug could land, the person was pulled back by someone grabbing their hood.
“Come on, aim better next time. Don’t toss Xiao Qi around.” The quick-handed rescuer said.
Qi Ji’s eyes widened slightly. “Lin Ge?”
He wasn’t mistaken. These were indeed his former colleagues from the operations team.
Lin Ge smiled. “We heard Xiao Qi recovered, so we came over to see you.”
“Xiao Qi, feeling better? All good now?”
“Wow, Xiao Qi lost weight during your illness. Look, even your jaw is sharper now. Be careful with your health.”
“Health is the real wealth!”
Colleagues chatted and crowded around, handing him flowers to celebrate his return.
Qi Ji felt a bit awkward.
He had never expected so many people to care for him.
He had long been careful to maintain harmonious relationships with classmates and colleagues, but he didn’t know how to respond naturally to such warm attention, nor how to interact with friends without a sense of burden.
Having experienced so much malice before, he didn’t know how to face genuine kindness.
“Th-thank you, everyone…”
“Oh, don’t thank us. Your health is the most important thing!” The colleagues laughed. If it weren’t for his recent illness, more than one person would probably have hugged him tightly.
Qi Ji had removed his mask and scarf, yet his body still radiated a gentle warmth—comforting and heartfelt.
His face was still somewhat pale, but his ears were bright red, either from embarrassment or nervousness.
Someone reached to take his backpack. Qi Ji remembered, quickly opened it, and handed out a large box of snacks to everyone.
The treats had been prepared by Aunt Lin early that morning—snowy soft bean paste buns, neatly packed. She had reminded him to bring them today. Qi Ji only now realized they were meant to be shared with colleagues.
The handmade buns were chewy, with bright red bean paste inside, very appealing. The vibrant red symbolized luck and good health.
Since they were handmade, each bun was wrapped only in rice paper, placed in a paper cup—no plastic. Colleagues tried them on the spot, and many brightened at the first bite.
“So tasty! Xiao Qi, where did you get these? The bean paste is so fine!”
“Hey, what about your fitness plan? Xiao Qi, ignore him. Come on, tell me—my trainer hasn’t checked in for half a month.”
Qi Ji embarrassedly said, “Sorry, Wang Ge. These were made by my elder at home. If everyone likes them, I can ask for more next time.”
Quality comes at a price. With his finances, he couldn’t afford such delicacies. Saying they were homemade made it natural.
“No worries, we just wanted to say they’re delicious.”
Everyone reassured him. Qi Ji was from J Province; snow-soft bean buns were a local specialty. Naturally, no one doubted it.
“Actually, Xiao Qi, while you were sick, the company built a self-service tea and snack lounge on the restaurant floor. Open all day, free to use. Want me to show you at lunch?”
Qi Ji heard this for the first time: “Oh… okay. Can we eat freely?”
“Yes, anything you want. There’s plenty to choose from. Our department hasn’t had afternoon tea for a few days. A few days ago, Wang Ge wanted Starbucks, but otherwise, the lounge handles snacks. The environment is great, looks like they converted an underused large conference room. Very luxurious.”
Other colleagues joined the discussion.
“People say Xinghai’s perks are good, but a dedicated snack lounge seems new. I asked a classmate at Tianshu—they don’t have it. Lucky us!”
“Yeah, and they set it up so quickly. October holidays just ended, and suddenly there’s this luxury lounge—it feels like a dream.”
“But I heard it was a bit rushed, no advance notice, and the approval process was super fast. As soon as they submitted it, it was approved and construction started immediately.”
As they talked, the conversation naturally circled back to work.
“It’s pretty urgent. Even here, the snacks only just started being served, and the department was assigned a task—to design a dedicated packaging set for the desserts. I heard from Sister Wu that this usually just involves redesign, right?”
“But we’re already swamped with ongoing projects. These past couple of days, we’ve been working overtime, barely keeping up—who has time to do this design work…”
“I’ve noticed Sister Wu’s been busy with the two projects from headquarters as well. She might not have time for this. Plus, it’s just a graphic design task—it probably isn’t crucial. Maybe they’ll just outsource it in the end.”
The colleagues chatted for a while, swept up the confetti on the floor, and the operations team left. Before long, it was officially time to start work.
Qi Ji handled the tasks he had left before his leave. Near noon, he received a message from Li Anbei.
Over the past few days, Li Anbei and Chen Zixuan had messaged frequently, but Qi Ji could only respond based on his sick leave.
He hadn’t told anyone, not even his closest friends, about his condition.
Li Anbei had invited Qi Ji to lunch; Chen Zixuan was busy and would come later. Seeing Qi Ji, Li Anbei, usually playful and careless, froze for a moment.
“Qi Qi, you’ve gotten so thin, ah?”
He reached up to pinch Qi Ji’s cheeks. After a quick check, he realized there wasn’t much flesh to grab and gave up.
“Look at this pale little face… what happened? Another incident with that damn brother of yours?”
“No…” Qi Ji didn’t know how the rumor about Qi Mingyu had spread. “I was just busy recently, a bit anemic, so I took some time off.”
“I think it’s because you’re eating too little. If you had three chicken drumsticks at every meal, you wouldn’t have this problem,” Li Anbei said, pointing to the side. “Come on, I’ll take you to the new snack lounge. Grab some more as dessert after lunch.”
The tea and snack lounge was right next to the cafeteria. It was much larger than Qi Ji had expected, nearly half the size of the cafeteria. Inside, long rectangular tables ran through the room, like banquet tables stretching across the hall.
Each table was neatly set with white plates, each on a heated tray to maintain freshness. Along the walls was a row of large freezers for ice cream and cold drinks. When they arrived, it coincided with the lounge’s bi-hourly restock, and all varieties of snacks had just been replenished—it looked impressive.
Basic treats like mung bean cakes and custard pastries aside, premium items—chocolates, cookies, milk candies worth hundreds of yuan per box—lined the tables. Even short-shelf-life items, like cheesecakes or fresh waffles drizzled with syrup, filled entire refrigerated display cases, available for anyone to take.
Even knowing the Xinghai Group was wealthy and well-established, seeing so many desserts in one place truly felt like a dream.
This was real dessert freedom.
Qi Ji grabbed a paper box and selected as he walked. He initially took a standard box, but Li Anbei swapped it for the largest size. By the time all the seemingly light desserts were in the box, it had become heavy.
Qi Ji was planning to carry the box to lunch. Though the lounge had a small dining area for on-site enjoyment, for some reason, it wasn’t crowded. Most people took their snacks and left quickly, barely anyone lingered to sit and savor them.
Li Anbei stayed by his side, not selecting anything himself but introducing the various options: “These golden rolls are delicious, the jujube filling is really sweet. And these glutinous rice cakes… actually, everything here is great. Our office collectively gained three pounds this week. If you have a grudge with someone, just drag them to the snack lounge.”
He then remembered: “Not you, Qi Qi. Gaining a bit of weight is good for you.”
Qi Ji shook his head, saying it was fine. He followed Li Anbei, taking whatever he suggested, obediently. Li Anbei couldn’t help reaching out again: “Feeding you, Qi Qi, gives me such a sense of accomplishment. Thanks to CEO Pei for giving me this opportunity.”
Qi Ji paused. “CEO Pei built this?”
“Of course. Rumor has it, after CEO Pei joined the company, he issued two special orders—one to build the tea lounge, the other to change the cafeteria’s pricing standards.”
Li Anbei glanced around, lowering his voice:
“Now people are joking that CEO Pei used to be a cook in the special forces, which explains why he cares so much about food.”
Qi Ji furrowed his brow.
Having come into close contact with Pei Yusheng, he naturally knew how ridiculous such rumors were.
Pei Yusheng’s presence and aura were undoubtedly the kind that only elite troops could cultivate. Even at his own peak, Qi Ji wasn’t confident he could exchange a hundred moves with him.
“Of course, it’s just a rumor—I don’t believe it anyway,” Li Anbei said. “Remember the last time we ran into the CEO in the cafeteria? I checked out his arm muscles—the definition… wow, amazing. A couple of days ago, eight of the most famous gyms in S City held a competition to pick the ‘most powerful man,’ even livestreamed it. The winner’s account was ‘Brudi,’ and that night, so many people tried to add him that the app crashed.”
“But if you really compared that winner to the CEO… it’d be total domination. Honestly, I think Pei could crash WeChat just like that.”
Qi Ji listened, hesitating to respond.
His attention was still stuck on the rumor about the CEO being a cook.
Even if few people actually believed it, the mere existence of the rumor revealed something important:
—Pei Yusheng’s reputation within the company wasn’t good.
He stayed silent. Li Anbei was used to it, assuming Qi Ji just didn’t care about gossip. Just then, Chen Zixuan called, saying she had finished her work, and the two went to the cafeteria together.
When they arrived, Qi Ji noticed the lunch pricing had changed. Previously, a meal cost eight yuan per person. Now it was eight yuan for a self-serve tray—no portion limits, but leftovers beyond a set amount would incur extra charges.
This was the second directive from the CEO Li Anbei mentioned. It was convenient for Qi Ji, allowing him to eat a little more.
They found a quiet booth, and Chen Zixuan hurried over, looking extremely busy, taking two calls even while getting her food. If not for coming to see Qi Ji, she might not have even had time to sit for lunch.
After getting her meal and sitting down, she asked Qi Ji how he was feeling. Before he could answer, another call came in.
Li Anbei, watching her, sighed for her: “Want me to pack it for you to take back to the office?”
Finishing the call, Chen Zixuan adjusted her long hair and exhaled, fatigue evident. “It’s fine, I’ve got twenty minutes to eat.”
“…Twenty minutes?” Li Anbei looked dumbfounded. “Then back to work right after?”
“There’s no choice,” Chen Zixuan said, quickly drizzling dressing on her salad and taking a bite. “The Shanhai Manor project news has been uncertain. These past two days, we’ve been going crazy, not daring to miss a single update.”
At the mention of “Shanhai Manor,” Qi Ji paused mid-handful of food.
He had seen the news—an illegal fighting ring had been shut down, located in the Shanhai Manor basement.
But he was experienced at hiding his reactions; the two beside him didn’t notice.
Li Anbei asked, curious: “The company really wants the Shanhai Manor land?”
“Of course,” Chen Zixuan said, seated with strong privacy against the wall. “Previously, we drafted four plans. Even if you combined the best aspects of all four, it wouldn’t match one-tenth of Shanhai Manor’s land. That’s a prime Feng Shui location reserved by the Jiang family themselves.”
She sighed. “Think about it—who wouldn’t covet land this good? If there’s a real auction, our subsidiary wouldn’t have a sure chance of winning. You’d have to involve Xinghai Group to increase the odds.”
“The group headquarters?” Li Anbei asked. “Haven’t they sent people? Isn’t that why we’ve been working nonstop?”
“Indeed, they’ve come and helped draft the bidding plan,” Chen Zixuan said. “But even they can’t predict Shanhai Manor’s moves. It’s too uncertain. Up till now, there’s no complete plan, everything is done quietly behind the scenes.”
“Think about it—Jiang family hasn’t completely fallen yet. Their momentum is bad, but if they escape this crisis, who knows if they’ll rise again? If they do, there’ll be a reckoning, and names will be checked—that’s obvious.”
“So now, we can’t act openly, but we also can’t ignore it. To miss such a prime opportunity—this piece of land is too good to pass up. The latest news says over twenty companies intend to bid, not counting those just interested but haven’t drafted plans yet.”
Chen Zixuan rubbed her temples.
“All the overtime at Yuntu recently is because of this. Xinghai too. The people sent by headquarters are actually more numerous than we see. They’re all tracking this. Vice President Zhang hasn’t returned home for half a month for this.”
She shook her head. “He’s a real iron man. Little Su and I are barely keeping up with his shifts, and he barely rests at all. At least I have twenty minutes—Vice President Zhang is still in a meeting. I’ll have to bring him lunch later.”
Qi Ji quietly ate, listening. Hearing her talk about Vice President Zhang, he couldn’t help thinking of Pei Yusheng—recently, the man had also been extremely busy.
“Vice President Zhang is indeed working hard…” Li Anbei said. “Doesn’t anyone help him? What about other VPs?”
“Which VP isn’t busy to the point of being constantly on their feet? G15, even G14 are doing fifteen-hour days.”
Within Xinghai, employees were graded; G15 was subsidiary VP level. Chen Zixuan, exhausted from overtime, blurted, “But G16 isn’t around—what can you do?”
Yuntu has only one G16.
Qi Ji paused mid-spoon.
Now he fully understood why Pei Yusheng’s rumors ran rampant in the company.
At such a critical moment, the leader who should be the backbone was absent.
Li Anbei lowered his voice: “I heard… someone reported this to Xinghai’s people? Saying dereliction of duty…”
Chen Zixuan shook her head lightly. “I don’t know, I’m not clear on that.”
Her sensitive position meant she had to distance herself. This response already spoke volumes.
Pei Yusheng’s absence had caused dissatisfaction; someone had reported him to headquarters.
Li Anbei understood and dropped the topic.
He looked at Qi Ji, sighing: “Every time I see you eat, Qi Qi, I feel like no gossip matters as much as a drumstick.”
Qi Ji seemed oblivious, only reacting when Li Anbei called him again: “Senior? What’s up?”
He seemed lost in thought, barely registering anything else.
Li Anbei shook his head: “Nothing, keep eating.”
He mused: “CEOs can change, but drumsticks never do—they’re always reliable.”
Qi Ji kept eating, but the phrase “CEOs can change” pricked at his mind, lightly stabbing at his thoughts.
Did that mean the CEO could be replaced?
But Pei Yusheng clearly wasn’t…
Qi Ji couldn’t quite explain his own feelings.
After lunch, Qi Ji returned to the design department. He had finished the morning’s work and had nothing on hand.
During the remaining lunch break, while many colleagues hadn’t returned, he unpacked the desserts he brought and ate distractedly.
Soon, Director Wu, who hadn’t been in the office that morning, called him over. She first checked on his health, then explained why she’d summoned him.
“Qi Ji, you know our department is grinding through the two headquarters projects, time is tight, we can’t spare people,” Director Wu said. “The desserts in the tea lounge need unified packaging, and our department handles design. Considering your portfolio has plenty of graphic design work, can you take this project?”
Qi Ji hadn’t expected it would be him, but he had no objections. He was the only free person, and he’d designed dessert packaging before, so technically it wasn’t difficult.
“Sure, Director,” he said. “Am I responsible individually?”
“Not alone. Someone will guide you, and all design requirements will be explained. But the immediate task…” Director Wu tore off a slip of paper with an address and handed it to him. “This is the supplier for the tea lounge desserts. Their factory is open for visits this afternoon—check it out. You might even get some inspiration.”
A supplier visit for dessert packaging? Qi Ji hadn’t expected this step, but with no other work, he went—plus he’d get a good view.
“Okay.”
The paper read: Fuguo Food Processing Factory, Qingxin District, XX Road, No. XX.
“…Fuguo,” Qi Ji thought. A simple, down-to-earth name.
Qingxin District was in the suburbs, a bit far. Qi Ji took a taxi, reimbursed by the company, and upon arrival, was slightly surprised.
Truthfully, with the idea of a “factory visit” and the plain name, he had imagined cramped production spaces, dim storage. But instead, he found himself in a spacious, modern campus with grand buildings and high-tech facilities. A large sign read—Fuguo Food Co., Ltd.
Truly, one cannot judge a factory by its name.
In fact, this was only the first surprise. Qi Ji’s astonishment grew when he met the person who would host him.
He had assumed that the so-called “open visit” would involve a group of people, guided by a tour host through the production process of the desserts. That would have been enough. But the person who came to greet him was not a guide at all—it was the manager on duty.
And there were no other visitors. Qi Ji was the only one.
For a single intern, the manager had personally come to accompany him. Qi Ji’s sense of surprise was no longer something that could simply be described as “unexpected.”
The manager was a middle-aged man, short and lean, agile, with a broad smile and a warm, enthusiastic demeanor. He treated Qi Ji not like a visitor on a tour, but as if a superior had come for an inspection.
Qi Ji thought for a long while before coming up with a reasonable explanation: perhaps Yuntu was a major client, and he was just benefiting from the company’s hospitality.
His guess gained some confirmation. As the manager led him through the campus, Qi Ji realized that the food processing factory was far more advanced than he had imagined.
In the sections he toured, the full production lines, advanced cold-chain preservation systems, intelligent electronic monitoring, and mechanized unmanned assembly lines were all already applied in large-scale food production.
Qi Ji had expected to see mountains of chocolate and cookies, but the truly spectacular and impressive sights were the cold, intelligent, mechanically aesthetic technology.
He actually gained a lot of inspiration from it, even sketching several draft concepts.
“This entire operation platform was actually developed with help from Xinghai,” the manager said, rubbing his hands with a smile. “High-tech, isn’t it?”
No wonder they treated him so courteously. Qi Ji realized that the company had already had deep cooperation with Xinghai.
“Also, this Qingxin District factory is just one of Fuguo’s branches. Our headquarters is in Jiangsu Province, five times the size of this, and in the entire Yangtze River Delta, Fuguo is well-known.”
Qi Ji’s timely expressions of astonishment and admiration made the manager’s smile grow even broader.
“Not to brag, but our production lines are the most complete in the Yangtze River Delta. Big brands like Dove, Oreo have had us as their OEM. Starbucks too. So our quality can absolutely be trusted—you can rest assured!”
The manager spoke with a slight accent, but his tone was exceptionally enthusiastic, almost pounding his chest in assurance.
Qi Ji was somewhat surprised: “I believe you, there’s no need to be so formal.”
The manager laughed, eyes crinkling: “Of course, of course.”
They moved on to a new production line, which apparently hadn’t started operation yet. The manager gave a ceremonious formal introduction:
“This is a new production line dedicated to Xinghai Group. Once the packaging design is finalized, it will produce products exclusively for Xinghai.”
Qi Ji was surprised: “Exclusively for Xinghai?”
“Yes, desserts supplied specifically for Xinghai Group. Yuntu, Tianshu, Yaoguang, and so on—all subsidiaries will receive them.”
Qi Ji understood.
No wonder Yuntu’s order was small, but the entire Xinghai Group’s orders were substantial, and it was a long-term partnership. Their enthusiasm made sense.
Looking at it this way, the claim that the CEO personally approved the tea lounge also seemed unlikely. This was clearly a broader Xinghai initiative, with Yuntu just being the first trial point.
Qi Ji was thinking this when the manager said: “Hehe, actually, we even asked if Fuguo would have to rename itself to match Xinghai—something like ‘Star’ or ‘Cloud’—to stay consistent with them.”
The manager scratched his head. “But it turns out, no. Our new owner said we have no subordinate relationship with Xinghai. Fuguo has to pick a different name, in English.”
He spoke with an accent, and his English pronunciation was far from perfect, but he spoke slowly and deliberately, showing he had practiced it many times.
“Just call it Wonder—Wonder Company.”