Chapter 20: Here’s Your Chance to Perform

Chapter 20 Now I'll Give You a Chance to Prove Yourself

Not looking for a girlfriend?

Oh, wanna die alone, huh.

Great, just great. Anyway the CEO has money, finding a woman to vent with isn't hard.

Just a wave of the hand, and a swarm comes running up.

And I'm just a lowly wage slave in the CEO's play in this novel world.

Kissing me like last night—I don't have looks, I don't have a chest, I don't have long legs—the CEO was just settling for whatever.

Yeah, the CEO was right.

Once Song Jiang came to that conclusion, he shifted the topic and feigned concern.

"Mr. Fu, don't talk. Your body temperature is very high. Did you take your medicine today?"

Seeing Fu Zhichen didn't respond, Song Jiang continued, "Mr. Fu, let go of me. I'll go get your fever medicine."

"Mr. Fu, you're running a fever now and not thinking straight. It's better not to work for now."

"Mr. Fu, do you think that's okay?"

Fu Zhichen stared at Song Jiang's lips for a long time.

The little butler's lips looked a bit swollen—probably from last night.

He kept chattering nonstop, and Fu Zhichen could even smell the sweet freshness on the little butler's breath.

Same as what he tasted last night.

And that sudden tenderness from the butler—really, it was...

"Okay."

With that, Fu Zhichen let go of Song Jiang.

Song Jiang let out a sigh of relief. Whew, that menace actually didn't bite his head off this time.

Well, he'd been that close to the CEO just now and could clearly feel his body temperature.

As hot as last night's—he must feel awful to be this obedient.

After Song Jiang gave Fu Zhichen the medicine, it took effect quickly. Soon after lying down, Fu Zhichen fell asleep.

First time seeing the CEO this obedient, he couldn't help but think, if only he'd always be this easy to handle.

Better yet, treat me better, give me a raise for all my hard work.

If only he'd spill his bank card password in his sleep, that'd be even better.

With all sorts of crazy ideas, Song Jiang rested his head by Fu Zhichen's bed, and sleepiness hit him too.

By the time Fu Zhichen came to, it was already afternoon.

"Salary..."

"Money..."

"Need... home..."

He sorted out the words roughly.

Gotta earn money for the family?

No wonder his eyes always lit up every time pay came up.

He hadn't slept this well in ages.

Was it the meds? Or...

Fu Zhichen turned his head to look at the guy lying next to him, still mumbling in his sleep, and frowned a little.

...

When Song Jiang opened his eyes, Fu Zhichen was already on the phone.

"Got it."

"You handle it."

So you get caught napping on the boss's bed during work hours, and then discovered by the boss—

What's a guy supposed to do in that situation so the boss lets it slide?

Song Jiang made eye contact with Fu Zhichen, then bolted upright.

"Mr. Fu, I'm sorry, I fell asleep."

Ma always said a kid who owns up is a good kid.

Fu Zhichen just then hung up the phone.

"Steward Song, sleep well?" Fu Zhichen's tone gave nothing away.

Seriously?

'Course I slept great! I was so on edge last night I barely got any sleep, and now that the boss is finally sick and down for the count, when else is a wage slave supposed to slack off?

Song Jiang blinked and nodded, then quickly shook his head.

The boss isn't gonna use this as an excuse to mess with me, saying I slept on the job and dock my pay, right?

"Uncomfortable? You were drooling, Steward Song, and you say uncomfortable?"

Song Jiang nervously wiped his mouth.

After wiping, he realized, dammit, I never drool in my sleep!

"Looks like you were way too comfortable."

Can the boss read my mind?

You know that pretty well.

Song Jiang scratched his head a few times and let out a dry laugh: "Mr. Fu, your bed is too soft and comfortable. I couldn't help but doze off for a while."

Premium stuff is really different—much more comfortable than his plank bed by a mile.

"Are you feeling better now?"

As he spoke, Song Jiang touched Fu Zhichen's forehead with his left hand and placed his right hand on his own forehead.

He felt their foreheads to compare temperatures.

Song Jiang's palm was incredibly soft, as if it had no bones.

A flicker of surprise crossed Fu Zhichen's eyes.

"Steward Song, can you actually tell?"

Like hell I can—his temperature is still higher. The boss sure is frail—still hasn't gotten better even after meds and sleep.

Not like him—every time he catches a cold, he just sleeps it off, and the next day he's bouncing around.

Song Jiang honestly said: "Mr. Fu, your temperature is still a bit high. Keep sleeping—you won't feel uncomfortable while asleep."

"Steward Song, are you planning to starve me?"

Huh?

Song Jiang glanced at his cheap watch—9.9 yuan, free shipping.

Damn, it's 2:10 PM.

Time to eat. He had to eat. If he didn't eat soon, he'd starve.

"Then I'll go ask Mrs. Wang to cook for you."

Fu Zhichen leaned back against the headboard lazily and said calmly: "Mrs. Wang took some time off to visit her family."

Song Jiang stopped mid-step.

Seriously? The boss gets sick and she takes leave? When he's not sick, she doesn't ask for leave.

Isn't that textbook avoidant behavior?

"Mr. Fu, then..."

"Steward Song, I'm giving you a chance to prove yourself." Fu Zhichen said deliberately, "You cook a meal."

Him? Cook?

Hell, that's not part of his job.

No way.

Besides...

He's the only one who's ever eaten his cooking.

Before, he fooled around in the kitchen just to save money. No one taught him—at least he didn't poison anyone. Low standards: as long as it kept him alive.

His motto was 'easy to keep alive.'

And now the boss wanted to eat his cooking. With the boss's refined palate...

No need to think—he's definitely getting chewed out.

Song Jiang could already imagine what the boss would say later.

"Steward Song, if you want to kill me off, just say it directly. No need to go out of your way to cook a meal to murder me."

"Steward Song, are you sure your dishes are fit for human consumption?"

"..."

So why would he set himself up for that kind of embarrassment?

Song Jiang was about to refuse: "Mr. Fu..."

"Steward Song, cook one meal, and I'll give you ten grand."

Song Jiang's eyes instantly lit up.

Holy crap, ten grand!

He didn't know if a Michelin chef got ten grand for one meal.

But with his half-baked cooking skills, getting ten grand for one meal is already a huge markup.

At this price, he could even carve a flower out of a cabbage!

Song Jiang agreed without hesitation: "Mr. Fu, I absolutely love cooking!"

"Mr. Fu, wait for me! I'll definitely whip up a full meal—five dishes and a soup!"

As soon as he finished speaking, Song Jiang ran out without waiting for Fu Zhichen to reply.

Don't ask why he moved so fast!

If you asked, he'd say he wasn't about to let the boss back out.

The room quickly returned to silence.

Fu Zhichen thought of Song Jiang's expression and movements just now and allowed a faint smile.

Sure enough, his little steward was a total money-grubber—as long as he paid enough, he could get him to do anything.

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