Behind the hidden door of the president’s office, several company elders whispered among themselves.
“An internal spy? Stop negotiations?” Elder One asked. “Is he talking about us?”
“The audacity of this brat!” Elder Two snapped.
“Calm down,” Elder Three said. “Second Young Master isn’t as aggressive as you all claim.”
At the desk, Jian Yuheng looked perfectly composed on the outside, though internally he had been metaphorically dead for quite some time.
Jian Feng had come fully prepared for questioning. He had dozens of response strategies ready. And yet Jian Yuheng somehow managed to throw a question straight from outer space.
Jian Feng took a sip of tea to steady himself. “Probably not…”
“Forget I asked,” Jian Yuheng said. In just a few seconds, he had returned to his usual calm and composed demeanor. “Did you need something from me?”
Jian Feng: “No…”
“Then I’ll get off work,” Jian Yuheng said lightly, turning and leaving the office.
Jian Feng: “?”
“Wait,” Elder One said, completely confused. “Wasn’t he the one who arranged this meeting?”
Elder Two said, “I specifically prepared a ten-thousand-word rebuttal speech! Practiced it over ten times! Even worked on my furious facial expressions to refute his arguments—and he just destroyed my stage like that?”
“He’s not entirely wrong,” Elder Three said. “If you like performing so much, go sing opera somewhere.”
“That’s enough,” Jian Feng said, slapping the desk. “Stop arguing. My younger brother’s management style is decisive and aggressive, but some of his ideas really are keeping up with the times. Stop targeting him. He and I are both Father’s sons—this company belongs to him too.”
“Speaking of which,” Jian Feng continued, “we should finalize this weekend’s family dinner.”
“Secretary Song,” Jian Feng said into the phone, “go handle it.”
—
Secretary Song had absolutely no idea how to “handle it.”
The next day, he picked a restaurant close to his home that he personally liked and prepared an invitation, planning to deliver it to Jian Yuheng.
【Should we prepare a few coins? If Jian Yuheng gets mean, we can roll back time.】
“No need,” Song Ruocheng said. “No way I’m using my ultimate skill just to counter a basic attack.”
【Just~ a~ basic~ attack~】
“Speak normally,” Song Ruocheng said. “Stop doing that vibrating voice.”
【How would a system even have a trembling voice? You’re the one shaking and making it sound like that.】
Song Ruocheng: “……”
Come on—who wasn’t afraid of the villain?
In the original story, he remembered that at a pool party, Secretary Song had offended Jian Yuheng with his words and had his neck grabbed before being shoved into the swimming pool.
“Pushing someone into a pool,” Song Ruocheng said. “Classic villain behavior.”
While chatting with the system, he knocked on the door of Jian Yuheng’s office.
The door creaked open.
No one was there.
Song Ruocheng tilted his head and thought for a few seconds, then opened Xiaoshi Group’s internal app—
Jian Yuheng (On Leave)
Gong Huo (On Leave)
Leave reason: Antarctic glaciers melting (any resemblance is purely coincidental).
Song Ruocheng: “?”
Using his secretary-level access, he pulled up Jian Yuheng’s profile and sent a friend request on WeChat.
The other party seemed busy and did not approve it.
Song Ruocheng tapped into the profile page. The displayed age was twenty-four—might as well fix it while he was here.
Returning to his office, he opened the employee database and edited Jian Yuheng’s age. The personnel file was surprisingly detailed, and Song Ruocheng glanced through a few more entries.
Jian Yuheng’s height was a full 193 centimeters.
So tall.
His hobbies and specialties were swimming and wood carving.
“Pretty average.”
【What can you do?】 the system asked.
“I can do silly stuff,” Song Ruocheng said.
He exited Jian Yuheng’s profile card and opened his own.
“It’s time to get to know myself,” Song Ruocheng muttered. “I really… am as innocent as a blank sheet of paper.”
Secretary Song’s profile card was empty. The page displayed only a single line in small print—
Medical exam information pending upload
【Why not take some time to get a checkup?】 the system suggested.
【Might as well find out what your pheromone type is.】
“Secretary Song,” the office intercom rang. “Go downstairs to greet a client.”
“Coming,” Song Ruocheng said.
—
Out in the suburbs, in a meditation room.
The master lit incense; the room was simple and serene.
“Calm your mind, focus,” the master instructed. “Concentrate on your fingertips, and you can carve flowers from your heart.”
Jian Yuheng cleansed his hands; the soothing scent of sandalwood surrounded him. He picked up the carving knife and etched floral patterns into the wood in his hands.
Dead wood blossomed; incense swirled, and Jian Yuheng’s mind gradually settled.
“Wood carving carves the wood, and carves the heart as well,” the master said.
Clink.
The half-formed sculpture in Jian Yuheng’s hand reverted to plain wood.
Jian Yuheng: “……”
Jian Yuheng: “…………”
“Focus,” the master said.
The knife rotated in Jian Yuheng’s hand, the blade tracing the wood with practiced precision.
Wood shavings fell; the dead wood bloomed once more.
Clink.
Jian Yuheng: “:）”
The master sipped his tea. “Focus.”
“Slow heart, steady hands—only then can the wood…” the master trailed off, spitting out his tea. “Ah, sir, sir, you’re just sharpening a pencil!”
—
Back at Xiaoshi Group, Song Ruocheng politely raised his hand and ushered the original story’s male lead, Jian Feng, into the conference room.
“President Jian,” Song Ruocheng said, “the client is waiting.”
“Good,” Jian Feng said. “Well done, Secretary Song.”
“You’re too kind,” Song Ruocheng replied. “Just add 20,000 to my salary; no need for more.”
Jian Feng: “?”
Outside the conference room, employees showered praise.
“Textbook-level reception,” one said. “Secretary Song did wonderfully.”
“Not at all,” Song Ruocheng said.
【Indeed, not at all.】
【Once took the wrong client. Once impressed a client by showing off tea art and ended up putting a teacup on their head.】
【Luckily I was there, preserving Secretary Song’s reputation.】
“Pang Hu,” Song Ruocheng asked, “how many rollback coins do we have left?”
【30 seconds remaining.】
Over the past two days, the male lead and the antagonist, these two coin-generating machines, have been busy with separate work. Their relationship value hasn’t changed; Song Ruocheng hasn’t gained anything either.
“Then we need to spend sparingly,” Song Ruocheng said. “I’m going to skip rolling back for a day.”
—
In the suburbs, Jian Yuheng emerged from the meditation room holding a wooden stick.
“Congratulations, boss,” Gong Huo said from the courtyard while drinking tea. “Another… abstract piece carved.”
A faint smile tugged at Jian Yuheng’s lips. He weighed the stick in his hand, then tossed it lightly.
Gong Huo caught it. Looking at the stick and then the car, he thought: fine, let’s put it in a box and send it to Second Young Master’s house as decoration.
The car sped off, kicking up a cloud of dust. Jian Yuheng’s gaze remained coolly fixed out the window.
“I’ll request two more days off,” he murmured, adjusting the watch on his left wrist.
Rather than passively accept events, he preferred to take the initiative. He wanted to observe—figure out exactly what was going on.
—
“Eagle training refers specifically to an immoral method, forcing the eagle to stay awake without rest.”
The television in the living room played a nature documentary.
Song Ruocheng held his phone, selecting a medical exam package for himself. In this ABO world, checkups were complex. Unsure if he would miss something, he pinged Yan Ci on WeChat.
[Song Ruocheng]: 0.o Madam, which one looks good?
Yan Ci: o.0 Package 1 or Package 5, I think both are fine. Maybe add a matching test?
[Song Ruocheng]: Then Package 5. It comes with breakfast.
He quickly placed the order for the medical checkup, scheduling it for the day after tomorrow.
[Song Ruocheng]: Madam, aren’t you sleeping yet?
Yan Ci: Got scolded by my brother again. He came into my livestream to scold me.
[Song Ruocheng]: Scold back.
Yan Ci: Speak kindly to make good karma.
[Song Ruocheng]: Evil words are thrilling.
[Song Ruocheng]: Sleep, Madam. I’ll sleep too.
“The eagle did not sleep at night and did not rest during the day…” the TV narrated.
Song Ruocheng turned off the TV with a snap and fell asleep.
—
The next day, a car pulled up at a downtown hospital. Its emblem drew countless glances.
The assistant opened the door. Jian Yuheng, dressed sharply in a suit, stepped out, adjusting his tie. His aura pressed low but intense.
The alpha’s stern features made the receptionist jump.
“Y-yes, hello,” she said. “Let me check—your appointment is… psychiatry?”
“Yes,” Jian Yuheng said briefly, having stayed up all night.
“Third floor, turn right,” the receptionist instructed. “Next to the medical center.”
On the third floor stairwell, Song Ruocheng held his medical report and chatted with the system.
“I’m grape flavor,” he said. “Not bad.”
Yan Ci was jujube flavor; the male lead, Jian Feng, was coix seed flavor.
“System,” he asked, “what flavor would Jian Yuheng be? I don’t think the book mentions it.”
A breeze blew through the corridor window, sending his medical report flying out of his hands.
“Ah!” Song Ruocheng leapt down. “Come back here!”
He slammed into a solid chest, nearly dizzy from the impact.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
“That was a tight hug,” came a mocking voice.
That voice… Song Ruocheng stepped back.
Why was the antagonist here?
Jian Yuheng held his medical report, his gaze lightly brushing past Song Ruocheng’s cheek.
“Please give that back,” Song Ruocheng said.
“Secretary Song,” Jian Yuheng finally looked up from the report, a faint curve tugging at his lips, “your body fat percentage is too low.”
“That’s none of your business.” Song Ruocheng reached out and took back his report.
Jian Yuheng’s bad mood, which had lasted the entire day, evaporated in an instant. He stared at the omega fleeing in a flustered panic, and his previously rigid aura softened.
Feeling refreshed, he entered the psychologist’s office.
“Hello, Mr. Jian,” the doctor greeted. “What seems to be troubling you?”
Recent events had indeed been somewhat absurd, and Jian Yuheng hesitated before speaking.
“It’s alright, Mr. Jian,” the doctor encouraged. “No need to feel embarrassed; I’ll listen carefully.”
Outside the hospital, at a bus stop.
A bus was pulling away.
“Stop, I said stop!” Song Ruocheng shouted, chasing it.
The public bus sped off, leaving a trail of exhaust.
Song Ruocheng panted like a dog.
“Run, I dare you to run,” he muttered. “Rollback 15 seconds! Bow that noble head of yours!”
Inside the office, Jian Yuheng hesitated but quickly recounted his ridiculous “ordeals.”
There—he had said it. Felt better already. Jian Yuheng exhaled.
“Mr. Jian,” the doctor smiled again. “Hello, what’s bothering you?”
Jian Yuheng: “……”
Jian Yuheng: “…………”
In the examination room, after a pause with no reply, the doctor patiently asked again, “Mr. Jian?”
Jian Yuheng collected himself. “It feels like I’m drowning in a pool, unable to reach the other side…”
The doctor started taking notes.
“The broken door creaks, the wood carving refuses to bloom with focus…”
The doctor frowned.
“The words I’ve stored up go unheard…”
Snap! The pen tip broke.
Didn’t understand, right? Good. Jian Yuheng chuckled.
Step back—I’ll rephrase.
At the hospital entrance, at the bus stop, Song Ruocheng watched the bus disappear into the distance, his vision going black.
【May I ask something?】
【The bus rolled back—don’t you want to roll back too?】
Song Ruocheng: “……”
【Roll back?】
【Race your pre-rollback self again?】
“Shut up, shut up,” he muttered. “Wait for the next one.”