The air still crackled with the nuclear fallout of the pink apron's supreme awkwardness and the crisp echoes of Su Xiaolan's triumphant "Salted Fish Counterattack" declaration. Li Chenyuan's low, dangerous murmur – "The game has only just begun" – had landed like a depth charge in the lake of Su Xiaolan's heart, sending shockwaves through her. Strangely, it didn't evoke fear. Instead, it ignited a tiny, defiant spark labeled "Fighting Spirit."
She watched the man who had calmly returned to his armchair, now engrossed in a door lock manual thick as a brick, as if the world-ending social disaster moments before had never occurred. His eyelashes were lowered, the lines of his profile still sharp, but that faint upward curve at the corner of his mouth, and the deeper, more impenetrable aura coalescing around him, silently proclaimed: This whale wasn't deterred. He was fully roused.
Su Xiaolan's heart hammered against her ribs, a thrilling sense of having poked the bear. Bring it on! Who's scared? A salted fish's pond might be small, but it's not yours to invade, remodel, or abandon at will!
Just as she was scheming her next "Salted Fish Tail Swipe," Li Chenyuan's phone vibrated again on the coffee table. This time, it wasn't Wang Jing. The name flashing on the screen was – Vice President Li.
Without even glancing up, Li Chenyuan swiped to answer on speakerphone. Vice President Li's voice, respectful but laced with urgency, instantly filled the quiet living room:
"President Li! Apologies for the interruption! The delegation from Germany's Hofmann Group has arrived ahead of schedule! CEO Schneider insists on an immediate preliminary meeting! The video conference system is ready. What do you…"
Vice President Li hadn't even finished speaking before Li Chenyuan's low voice cut in, decisive and radiating absolute control – utterly devoid of any trace of the man who, mere minutes ago, had been wearing a little yellow duck apron.
"Delay the meeting by two hours. Inform Schneider I am personally handling a critical strategic node."
"I will be online precisely in two hours. Compress the agenda; core issues prioritized."
"Additionally," he continued, his tone as natural as if giving directions to his own HQ, "have Wang Jing deliver the silver laptop from my study desk, along with the blue folder labeled 'Hofmann', immediately to…" He recited Su Xiaolan's apartment address. "Within the hour."
Silence stretched on the other end. Vice President Li was clearly stunned. It took him several seconds to respond. "...Understood! President Li! I'll arrange it immediately!" His voice was thick with disbelief, but not a shred of doubt.
Hanging up, Li Chenyuan finally lifted his gaze from the innocent lock manual, pinpointing Su Xiaolan still leaning against the wall, her face screaming "Are you kidding me?" His deep eyes were calm, yet held an undeniable air of occupation:
"For the next two hours," he paused, his gaze sweeping over the small, crumb-strewn, duck-scented living room, "this place... is my temporary Strategic Command Center."
Su Xiaolan: "...!!!"
She felt her world implode! Strategic Command Center?! In her house?! In her salted fish's cozy den?! How was this not a declaration of martial law?!
"Li Chenyuan! You're going too far!" Su Xiaolan stomped her foot, pointing an accusing finger. "This is my home! Not your office! What right do you have—"
"The right of being currently unable to leave," Li Chenyuan cut her off, his justification flawless and utterly shameless. He gestured at his own wrinkled, grease-stained expensive shirt. "The right of needing to handle a multi-billion Euro cross-border merger." He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees, his abyssal eyes locking onto hers, radiating a strange mix of oppressive force and... a hidden thread of provocation. "Or is it... Assistant Su... that you're afraid?"
"Afraid?!" Su Xiaolan bristled like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. "Afraid of you?! Don't make me laugh! Stay if you want! See if I care if you hold your international meetings on this rickety sofa!" She plopped back onto her little yellow duck sofa with a huff, grabbing the grinning duck pillow and squeezing it violently, as if it were Li Chenyuan's face.
Excellent. A flicker of satisfaction, almost imperceptible, passed through Li Chenyuan's eyes. Reverse psychology – always effective on this easily riled salted fish.
The following hour saw the small living room become the stage for a bizarre double act.
On one side: Su Xiaolan's "Salted Fish Defense Campaign." She deliberately cranked the TV volume (blasting a brainless soap opera), crunched chips deafeningly, rolled around dramatically on the sofa, shuffled noisily to the kitchen in her slippers for water – manufacturing a symphony of "domestic disturbance" aimed at disrupting the "invader."
On the other side: Li Chenyuan's "Abyssal Fortress." He remained utterly impervious to the "sonic assaults," a statue of concentration rooted in the armchair. His phone became his temporary command console, fingers flying across the screen – replying to emails, reviewing documents, issuing crisp, concise voice commands peppered with terms like "equity structure," "market premium," "antitrust review." His focused expression, cool tone, stood in stark, absurd, yet powerful contrast to his slightly disheveled shirt.
Su Xiaolan's "disruption tactics" felt like punches thrown into cotton wool – utterly ineffective and leaving only herself exhausted. She glared at the man seemingly encased in a soundproof bubble, a frustrated, fluffed-up feline with no claws left.
The doorbell chimed, a welcome interruption. Wang Jing.
Standing once more before the gleaming (yet, for her, deeply traumatizing) security door, Wang Jing clutched a heavy professional laptop bag and a file folder. She had braced herself. Deep breaths. Mental chants: See nothing... Forget the pink duck...
The door opened.
Li Chenyuan himself answered. He'd shed the disastrous shirt, revealing only the deep grey tank top beneath. The defined lines of his shoulders, arms, and powerful chest were on full display. His damp hair was swept back, emphasizing a strong forehead and sharp eyes, radiating a potent mix of domesticity and raw, masculine dominance. Behind him stood Su Xiaolan, clutching her duck pillow, radiating displeasure.
Wang Jing's gaze flickered over Li Chenyuan (forcing herself to ignore the overly "revealing," powerful attire and any lingering apron memories), then over Su Xiaolan (still alive and kicking – good), before locking onto the laptop bag like a lifeline.
"President Li, the laptop and documents you requested." She handed them over respectfully, eyes fixed straight ahead as if the living room contained only air.
"Hmm." Li Chenyuan took them efficiently. He didn't close the door. Instead, his gaze swept over Wang Jing, then flickered towards Su Xiaolan, who was visibly eavesdropping from the sofa. He spoke, his tone as casual as commenting on the weather: "Send two sets of change of clothes. You know my size." He paused, then dropped the bombshell: "And Su Xiaolan's."
Su Xiaolan: "???" Who wants your clothes?! And mine?!
Wang Jing: "!!!" Ch-change of clothes?! And... Su Xiaolan's?! She felt the efficacy of her emergency heart pills rapidly fading!
"President Li... This is..." Wang Jing's voice sounded faint.
"Loungewear will suffice," Li Chenyuan continued, seemingly oblivious to Wang Jing's near-meltdown and Su Xiaolan's instantly flushed face. His gaze drifted meaningfully towards the discarded pink duck apron on the entryway cabinet. "Additionally, that previous apron was substandard. Have the boutique send two new ones. Material must be premium, skin-friendly. The design..." He paused, his deep eyes glinting with a dangerously intense light as he slowly enunciated: "Must be matching."
Matching?!
Wang Jing saw stars! Matching couple's aprons?!
Su Xiaolan shot up from the sofa like a scalded cat: "Li Chenyuan! Who said I want matching aprons with you?! Forget it!"
Li Chenyuan ignored the reactions. Hefting the laptop bag and folder, he turned and walked back into the living room, placing them on the coffee table. He booted up the laptop and plugged it in with fluid movements, his posture declaring this space unequivocally his domain.
Wang Jing watched her boss's utterly entitled, host-usurping stance, then Su Xiaolan's furious, impotent hopping. She drew a deep, despairing breath. She understood! She finally understood! This wasn't about a "strategic node"! This was President Li establishing a permanent "Strategic Command Center" right in Su Xiaolan's salted fish nest! Change of clothes? Matching aprons?! How was this not a declaration of cohabitation?!
"...Understood, President Li." Wang Jing summoned every ounce of professionalism to keep her voice steady. "I... will see to it immediately." She practically fled, closing the door behind her, her retreating back radiating profound "life is impossible" tragedy.
The living room held only the two of them once more.
Li Chenyuan was already logged into the laptop, the screen's cool blue light reflecting off his stern, focused profile, as if the man who'd just dropped the "matching aprons" bomb was someone else entirely. Su Xiaolan glared at him, a small, cornered beast whose territory had been invaded by an unstoppable force.
Just then, Li Chenyuan's phone screen lit up beside him. A message from Wang Jing, concise and efficient:
President Li, clothing and aprons arriving within the hour. Apron style reference images sent to your email. Please review and confirm.
Li Chenyuan tapped open the email attachment.
A high-definition image instantly filled his phone screen—
Two aprons, crafted from top-tier linen.
One: A deep, reserved Deep Sea Blue, clean lines, minimalist design. Embroidered on the left chest in shimmering silver thread was an exquisitely detailed, powerfully abstract Whale emblem.
The other: A soft, warm Creamy White, equally simple in design. In the same position, embroidered in gleaming gold thread, was a plump, round, blissfully lazy cartoon Salted Fish!
Deep Sea Blue Whale & Creamy White Salted Fish!
Matching! Couple's Set!
Su Xiaolan's peripheral vision caught the image. She froze as if struck by lightning! Her cheeks flushed crimson instantly! He… He was serious?!
Li Chenyuan's gaze lingered on the image for a few seconds. An inscrutable, almost satisfied glint flickered in his deep-sea eyes. He didn't reply to the email, simply closing the image – tacit approval. Then, he lifted his head. His gaze traversed the laptop screen, landing precisely on Su Xiaolan's face, now a masterpiece of furious embarrassment.
He didn't speak. Instead, with the barest, almost imperceptible movement, he arched one eyebrow at her. The look was pure, unadulterated challenge and declaration:
See? My "Efficiency Counterattack" has begun.
Your salted fish pond...
Is mine.
These matching aprons...
You will wear them.
Or…
I will put them on you myself.
Su Xiaolan read the message in his eyes. She trembled with rage, yet her heart raced wildly, a strange heat surging from her toes to the crown of her head under the blatant, step-by-step invasion!
This whale!
He was carving the words "special treatment"...
...into her salted fish existence...
...with the most overbearing, shameless, sanity-shattering methods possible!
War Escalated!
The Battle for the Salted Fish Nest
VS
The Whale's Mandatory "Matching Set" Cohabitation Plan!
Officially Commenced!