Chapter 37: Are You Showing Off Your Pretty Lips to Me?

Chapter 37: Are You Showing Off Your Pretty Lips to Me?

Song Jiang was exhausted.

He'd been worked to the bone all afternoon.

This time, it wasn't the boss—it was that awful Mei Moyu!

No conscience at all! He was gonna tattle to the boss! Someone was openly exploiting the boss's personal steward!

After eating his cake, Mei Moyu had him running errands one after another.

Every time he said no, Mei Moyu would subtly threaten him.

He could have had a lazy afternoon to slack off, and now it was gone just like that—down the drain.

Printing documents, delivering materials—stuff like that. The boss pays his salary, and even the boss never made him do that.

Who does Mei Moyu think he is? Boohoo, he’s picking on the nice guy!

Because of this, by the time evening came, Song Jiang still wore a pitiful, wronged expression.

He didn't even rush to leave—only when the boss said it was time to go did he realize the workday was over.

"Steward Song, turn off the lights. Time to leave."

Song Jiang's voice sounded weak and drained. "Got it, Mr. Fu."

Previously, the little steward would enter the office before eight o'clock and say all sorts of nonsense to drop hints.

But now, it was already eight twenty, and not only had the steward not urged him, he was inexplicably pouting.

"Steward Song, are you showing off your pretty lips?"

"..."

What the hell?

What alien language was the boss speaking? How did leaving work have anything to do with his lips?

"Mr. Fu, I didn't."

"Steward Song, if not, then why do you have a look like you're kidney-deficient?"

"..."

Sometimes, you just feel so helpless, you know? He was just a little tired, that's all.

"Mr. Fu, my kidneys are great. Nothing wrong with them at all."

When he thought about it, the one to blame for him being half-dead tired was none other than the boss.

If the boss hadn't said he could help him sleep and then made him sign that shady sleeping contract, he wouldn't be getting threatened by Mei Moyu now and ending up in this mess.

If looks could kill, the boss would be dead a thousand times over.

Fu Zhichen stared at Song Jiang, his brow slightly and imperceptibly furrowing.

This little steward looked like a sad little dog with his tail between his legs.

Hmph? What was that frown about? Was he reflecting on himself?

"Steward Song, at noon today, you slipped away before I woke up, and I didn't say I'd deduct your wages."

How could the boss even bring that up? He was so fed up. Doesn't he even have the right to decide when he wakes up?

Damn capitalism.

Song Jiang thought this, but he didn't dare show it. He just gritted his teeth, put on a fake smile and said, "Mm hm, I know, Mr. Fu, you're such a kind-hearted person."

"Steward Song, aside from deducting your pay, I can't think of anything else that would make you make that face."

The boss sure knew him well—knew that money was his life.

Song Jiang said honestly, "Mr. Fu, I'm just tired."

"You're tired, Steward Song?" Fu Zhichen raised an eyebrow in question. "Why don't you tell me in detail what you did all day?"

Song Jiang was about to blurt out all those annoying chores Mei Moyu had made him do.

Wait, wait, no.

The boss didn't know what Mei Moyu had made him do.

On second thought, the boss really hadn't given him anything to do today.

So in the boss's eyes, he had just goofed off all afternoon. Well, crap.

The boss had said he doesn't keep lazy loafers.

No way! He didn't want to end up like that driver who got fired for having diarrhea!

Thinking of that, Song Jiang quickly changed his tune. "Mr. Fu, I was joking. I'm actually not tired at all. I could take the stairs right now and buy you a cup of coffee, no problem."

The boss's office was on the 28th floor. A normal person going up and down would be totally out of breath.

Since he exaggerated like that, the boss wouldn't push him further, right?

But Fu Zhichen stroked his chin, looking intrigued. "Steward Song, go ahead and buy it. I happen to need one."

Song Jiang's fake smile immediately froze on his face.

Damn, he'd dug himself into a hole.

Did the boss really need coffee this late at night?

His sleep quality was already bad; drinking coffee at night would make it even harder to sleep. Did the boss want to come to work tomorrow with panda eyes?

"Mr. Fu, your sleep is already bad. Coffee wouldn't be a good idea..." Song Jiang stammered. The 28th floor was no joke.

As if he'd expected this, Fu Zhichen couldn't help laughing at Song Jiang's awkward, troubled look. He smirked and changed the subject.

"Steward Song, from now on, no more making that face at work."

"That half-dead look—people would think I'm a heartless monster who overworks you."

Right? Like that's not the case?

Sure, the boss had been paying him well lately, but he'd earned every penny himself!

Back when he first started as the boss's butler, the boss didn't treat him that way!

Back then, he went through thick and thin with the boss, so busy he only ate one meal a day, and he never dared complain.

Fortunately, now he's woken up to his rights as a working stiff.

He's learned to protect his legitimate rights! If they exploit you, just call 12333!

He doesn't believe the boss can get away with everything, anyway.

Song Jiang, of course, didn't actually climb 28 flights of stairs, but does the boss really need that coffee?

Now they're heading back to the villa.

"Steward Song, pull over at the next intersection and get me a coffee."

???

Seriously? He's actually gonna drink it?

If he can't sleep tonight, will he blame me and dock my pay?

Song Jiang glanced distractedly at the rearview mirror; Fu Zhichen was rubbing his temples with his fingers, looking exhausted. If he's this tired, why doesn't he just go to bed early?

Song Jiang reminded him, "Mr. Fu, drinking coffee at night is bad for your sleep."

"Steward Song, I don't need your reminders."

Fu Zhichen's tone sounded somewhat plaintive, "There's an international meeting tonight that I must attend. It concerns the company's development for the next six months. Otherwise, you think I'd want this coffee?"

"If it goes south, the company will lose a huge chunk of money, which could seriously affect the cash flow. Then there won't be money coming in—you gonna cover payroll for my employees?"

Why is the boss explaining all this to him? He doesn't get this stuff anyway.

He didn't catch the rest, only the last two lines.

No money coming in and wages.

Song Jiang's expression instantly turned serious. He said nothing, just hit the gas.

He felt like the hope of the village... no, the hope of the whole company!

Whether I get paid now depends on this coffee!

Song Jiang couldn't help asking, "Mr. Fu, is one cup gonna be enough?"

"Steward Song, if you want one too, buy two."

"..."

Luckily, the coffee shop Fu Zhichen mentioned was right ahead; otherwise, he didn't know what to say.

Him drink coffee? No way. He values his life—staying up late can kill you.

Song Jiang parked smoothly by the curb and dashed out without a moment's hesitation, thinking only: I hope the coffee isn't sold out.

The boss, of course, waited in the car.

When Song Jiang arrived, the coffee shop was packed; he had to line up.

Man, nobody sleeps at night—do they all have billion-dollar deals to close?

Song Jiang was anxious but could only wait, his eyes wandering around the coffee shop.

Suddenly, he locked onto something—the last cake in the bakery next door's case, and as luck would have it, it was a mousse cake.

Maybe heaven was looking out for him, knowing how wiped out he was, and wanted to reward him with a mousse cake. It was fate—he was meant to have two today.

Right as he finished paying, the coffee shop called his number. Song Jiang happily walked back to the car, cake in left hand, coffee in right, heading to Fu Zhichen.

"Mr. Fu, your coffee." As Song Jiang handed the coffee to Fu Zhichen, he hid the hand with the cake behind his back.

He wasn't sure if the boss would chew him out.

Then he thought, he didn't use the boss's money—he used his own to treat himself. What's wrong with that?

"Steward Song, what are you hiding in your right hand?"

Did the boss have to have such sharp eyes? It was pitch dark—how could he even see that?

He was so scared of getting caught that before opening the car door, he deliberately switched the cake to his other hand.

"Mr. Fu, what are you talking about? Hiding what?"

Song Jiang's mind raced for a few seconds. Anyway, he'd put it in the car later, and the boss would see it anyway, so he might as well confess now.

With that thought, he took out the cake directly and waved it in front of the boss's eyes. "Mr. Fu, are you referring to this?"

"I saw it sitting alone in the display case, looking lonely, so I bought it back."

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