Time froze.
The air in the entryway turned glacial, thick enough to crush spines.
Wang Jing—Chief Secretary, veteran of corporate wars, master of professional composure—stood utterly unraveled. Her eyes bulged like saucers, mouth agape in a perfect "O" large enough to swallow the pink duck-print apron currently clinging to Li Chenyuan's torso. Behind her, two security technicians stood petrified, one's toolbox still tilted mid-crash, jaws slack.
Deafening silence.
Only Su Xiaolan's muffled, laughter-strangled gasps from the living room pierced the void—proof that the Vision of CEO Li in Pink Duck Hell was no nightmare, but horrifying reality.
Li Chenyuan stood framed in the doorway, the apron straining over his broad frame. Dawn light haloed him in gold, mocking the absurdity. His face—once a mask of lethal fury—had emptied into hollow-eyed despair. Who am I? Why am I wearing this? screamed his thousand-yard stare. Thirty years of meticulously crafted authority lay in ruins beneath a duck's deranged grin.
"M-Mr. Li…?" Wang Jing's voice scraped like sandpaper. Her gaze skittered from the apron to his face—somehow more terrifying. "You're…?" Roleplay? Sorcery?
Li Chenyuan's throat worked soundlessly. Words died under the duck's psychic assault. He could only lift a trembling hand, pointing accusingly toward the living room: The salty fish did this!
Su Xiaolan's voice chirped through the carnage:
"Morning, Chief Wang! Here for the door?" She bounced into view behind Li Chenyuan, sunshine incarnate. She feigned shock, gesturing at him. "Mr. Li! Why are you greeting guests in an apron? Take it off before they think you have… unusual hobbies!"
"Pfft—!" A technician snorted, then clapped hands over his mouth, face bloodless.
Wang Jing paled further, sweat beading. She watched Li Chenyuan's ashen face darken toward eruption. Survival instinct screamed:
"Apologies, Mr. Li!" she blurted. "Just—door inspection! Perfect! No issues! We're leaving! Now!" She frantically signaled retreat.
The technicians scrambled for their tools, fleeing backward.
"Halt."
Li Chenyuan's voice—hoarse, arctic—stopped them dead.
They turned, awaiting execution.
Slowly, Li Chenyuan reached behind his back. Fingers white-knuckled, he clawed at the crooked pink bow. With a jerk of pure revulsion, he ripped the apron free and flung it onto the console. The duck grinned up, oblivious.
"What you saw today," he enunciated, each syllable ice-coated steel, "if one word escapes…" His gaze—restored to glacial abyss—sliced through them. Silence. Or erasure.
Wang Jing and the technicians nodded like frenzied woodpeckers. "Understood! Saw nothing! Leaving!" They vanished into the elevator.
SLAM! The reinforced door shuddered under Li Chenyuan's wrath.
Silence. Only the CEO—radiating volcanic fury—and the girl doubled over against the wall, laughing till tears streamed.
"Hahaha… Your face! And Wang Jing's…!" Su Xiaolan gasped, ignoring his murderous glare. "The smart lock… the duck apron… the witnesses… Glorious!"
Li Chenyuan whirled. Eyes blazing, he stalked toward her, pinning her in the corner's shadow.
"Su. Xiao. Lan." His voice vibrated with suppressed violence. "Amusing?"
Her laughter died. She looked up, cheeks flushed, eyes blazing with fearless light. She stepped forward, meeting his incendiary gaze, lips curving in triumphant mischief:
"Ecstatic!" Her voice rang like a bell. "Li Chenyuan! This is the price of invading my lazy life!"
"Your private elevator, your massage chairs, breaking my door, that disaster of noodles, this duck apron—"
"You thought your 'efficiency investments' would make me obey?"
"No!"
"This salty fish may love to laze—" She jabbed a finger at herself, then the discarded apron. "—but I'm not your puppet!"
"I'll drag your untouchable CEO persona off its pedestal—" Her grin turned radiant. "—and dump it in my pond of potato chips and duck pillows!"
"Let you taste real life! Social execution! And—" Her eyes sparkled with victory. "—the thrill of being outmaneuvered by a lazy fish!"
Her words—a cannonade of defiance—struck Li Chenyuan's eardrums… and the heart buried beneath his rage.
His pupils contracted. This girl—chin lifted, fearless, challenging—was no longer the trembling prey. She was a sunflower blooming through a typhoon, shattering his icy world with absurd, devastating brilliance.
Rage still burned. But beneath it—dizziness from her radiance. And… the reluctant thrill of a worthy opponent.
He stared at her shining eyes, flushed cheeks, victorious smile…
Slowly, the tension in his jaw eased. The inferno in his eyes banked, replaced by something deeper, darker, more dangerous: Absolute focus.
His hand rose—not to strike, but to tangle roughly in her damp, messy hair. A punishing, yet intimate, touch.
"Outmaneuvered?" His voice rasped, equal parts fury and unwilling amusement. "The game just began."
He leaned down, breath hot on her forehead, eyes locking onto hers. A dangerous, devastating smirk touched his lips.
"You think one apron means defeat?"
"Wait."
"You reckless little fish…"
"I'll show you true… efficiency annihilation."
He released her, turned, and strode to the absurdly small sofa. He sat—ignoring its indignity—and picked up the Smart Security Door Manual as if the last ten minutes were hallucination.
Only the dangerous curve of his lips and the hunter's gleam in his eyes betrayed the truth.
Outmaneuvered?
Salty Fish… you've sparked the Leviathan's…
Ultimate interest.
The war between obsession and inertia…
Escalates.