Chapter 39: Are You Telling Me What to Do?

Chapter 39: Are You Telling Me How to Do My Job?

For Song Jiang, staying up past ten counts as late.

He didn't get to bed until after eleven last night, and the lack of sleep made him very reluctant to get up in the morning.

He kept snoozing his alarm; luckily, there were still those golden five minutes left for a quick nap.

The first thing to stir was his drowsy mind, along with the warmth of the body beside him. He subconsciously leaned in and nuzzled.

"Steward Song, is it comfortable?"

"..."

"Steward Song, if you nuzzle again, I'll charge you."

"???"

"Steward Song, if you don't get up and are late, I'll fine you five hundred."

"!!!"

Docking his pay is like taking his life—he shot up.

"Don't you dare!" Song Jiang shouted without even opening his eyes.

"What are you yelling about so early in the morning?"

Almost instinctively, Song Jiang turned his head to look at the man speaking beside him.

He rubbed his eyes and, when he opened them, met Fu Zhichen’s pitch-black gaze.

"..."

So handsome.

He couldn't help but say it every day.

"President Fu, please don't dock my pay."

"Steward Song, are you teaching me how to do my job?"

How could he dare? As a lowly wage earner, his only weapon was begging.

"No, President Fu, I'm begging you."

Fu Zhichen parted his thin lips but didn't directly answer Song Jiang's question.

"Three more minutes."

What does that mean?

Song Jiang's mind raced, and he caught a glimpse of the phone on the bedside table, finally understanding what the boss meant.

Three more minutes until his shift started.

This boss is insane—they live together, and he still dictates his wake-up time.

Song Jiang had no choice but to roll out of bed and go wash up.

Next on the agenda was preparing the boss's clothes.

Song Jiang opened the boss's walk-in closet. It wasn't full before.

Later, the boss bought him so many clothes he had no space for, so the boss let him keep them in his own closet.

Of course, the boss couldn't wear the same outfit two days in a row.

Song Jiang's eyes swept over row after row of suits that looked identical at first glance, and he fell into deep thought.

Has the boss worn this one before?

After six seconds of hesitation, uh, no.

His eyes are like a ruler—spot on.

Song Jiang changed into his own work suit before delivering the boss's clothes.

He didn't know how the boss changed clothes in his wheelchair; Fu Zhichen always came out already dressed.

"Steward Song, come here."

Song Jiang was tidying his own attire. You have to admit, expensive fabric really is nice.

Smooth and silky, nothing like cheap online clothes that make you itch.

Song Jiang obediently walked over to Fu Zhichen, bent down to meet his eyes, "President Fu, is there something you need?"

Fu Zhichen grabbed Song Jiang's tie and, without warning, reached up to touch his hair.

"Are you an idiot? Your hair is a mess."

His tone was slightly disdainful.

He just hadn't had time to fix his hair yet, that's all. The boss didn't give him any time.

He couldn't see what Fu Zhichen was doing to his hair, but with the boss's taste, it wouldn't look bad.

Fu Zhichen handled his hair with a light touch, once, twice, rough palm running through his hair.

"All done, President Fu?"

It didn't take long before Fu Zhichen hummed in affirmation.

That silly dog would lie in his arms every morning when it woke up, and he would smooth its fur. The dog would make the same contented expression as the steward did.

Adorable to death.

Song Jiang escorted the boss back to the office, then went downstairs. Aunt Wang wasn't there, so breakfast for the two of them came from the company cafeteria.

His mouth was still chewing on a meat bun, and in his hand was a pig-shaped custard bun he hadn't started on yet.

What can you do? A working man can't resist meat and sweets.

"Steward Song."

The first time, Song Jiang didn't hear it, too focused on eating.

"Steward Song, it's me. Wait a moment."

Song Jiang paused mid-step, "Who is this 'me'?"

"Steward Song, don't walk so fast, I can't keep up."

Song Jiang turned around and finally saw who it was: a woman in a light blue Chanel-style blazer and skirt set, with skin like porcelain, hurrying toward him on stiletto heels. It was Ye Qingqing.

The actress who was robbed of an Oscar.

Song Jiang downed the rest of his meat bun without missing a beat, put on a professional fake smile, and said, "Miss Ye, hello. Is there something you need?"

What was the actress doing at the boss's company? Filming something?

"Well, Steward Song." Ye Qingqing smiled as she pointed to the insulated lunch box in her hand. "Old Madam Fu asked me to bring some chicken soup for Zhichen."

Drinking soup first thing in the morning? What kinda weirdo move is that?

He figured the boss wasn't that weak.

"Miss Ye, please wait a moment," Song Jiang said in a routine tone. "I'll go upstairs first and check if President Fu is busy."

Ye Qingqing tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Alright, then I'll wait for you in the lobby, Steward Song."

Look how polite Ye Qingqing was. Tian Tian could really learn a thing or two from her. In that regard, Tian Tian was completely outclassed.

Actually checking if the boss was free? No way. Song Jiang made a show of stepping into the boss's private elevator.

From what he'd observed recently, the boss's workday always started with a report from Mei Moyu.

And Mei Moyu arrived exactly on time every day. Now it was ten minutes to nine.

Perfect—he could finish his bun first, then take Ye Qingqing up.

If Old Madam Fu sent Ye Qingqing with soup, the boss wouldn't dare blow her off, right?

When Song Jiang came out after eating, Ye Qingqing was all smiles, stepping right up. "Steward Song, I'm sorry to bother you."

Song Jiang smiled. "It's part of my job."

Ye Qingqing lightly touched Song Jiang's elbow. "I heard this shop has amazing cake. I saw you eating some at that banquet last time, so I picked up a little for you."

With that, she handed him a beautifully packaged cake bag.

The actress truly lived up to her reputation—so observant. If he hadn't known about Ye Qingqing's acting skills, he might've thought she was a wolf in sheep's clothing—her intentions were anything but good.

Since Ye Qingqing was in cahoots with Fan Jian, that cake probably had something extra added.

Sure, he had a sweet tooth, but he always put his life first. No way he was eating that.

"Miss Ye, you don't need to do this. That's too kind," Song Jiang politely pushed it back.

"Steward Song, it's just a little token of my appreciation. It's fine. We're friends." Ye Qingqing wasn't offended and pushed it back again.

They'd only met a few times and barely exchanged a few words, and now they were friends?

This Ye Qingqing sure knew how to socialize.

He had no choice but to bring up the boss to scare her off. "Thanks, Miss Ye, but President Fu doesn't let me take cakes from other people."

He wasn't lying. He thought he'd heard the boss say that—or maybe he just dreamed it.

"You should keep it for yourself."

Song Jiang had barely finished speaking when the elevator reached the top floor.

"Miss Ye, this way, please."

Song Jiang led Ye Qingqing toward the boss's office.

Knock, knock, knock.

"Come in."

Song Jiang held the door open all chivalrous—ladies first.

"President Fu, Old Madam Fu sent Miss Ye to bring you chicken soup."

"Good morning, Zhichen." Ye Qingqing greeted him demurely.

Fu Zhichen ignored her completely. He looked right past Ye Qingqing and shot Song Jiang a piercing glare.

"Steward Song, if you hadn't come back soon, I'd think the company had a human trafficker who kidnapped you."

"..."

Basically, he was saying Song Jiang was too slow and took his sweet time.

"President Fu, I was only delayed a few minutes because I ran into Miss Ye downstairs."

Let Ye Qingqing take the blame.

"Zhichen, since you haven't had breakfast yet, why not have some chicken soup?"

Ye Qingqing set the insulated lunch box on the table where they usually ate and was about to pour him some soup.

Her movements were smooth and natural, like she owned the place.

Fu Zhichen shot a death glare at Song Jiang, then turned his gaze to Ye Qingqing.

"Take your garbage and get out."

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