The icy sarcasm struck Xiaochen Yan's face like a physical whip. The dirty ground of the slum, the scattered check fragments, and the man's eyes filled with disdain before her formed an intensely humiliating scene.
The air seemed to freeze.
Xiaochen's face was pale, but her back remained straight, like a reed unyielding in a storm. Meeting Qiyu's venomous gaze, her heart pounded violently in her chest—not from fear, but from boiling anger and the humiliation of being cornered.
Just as Qiyu expected her to break down or lose control, she let out a faint, almost imperceptible laugh. The smile didn't reach her eyes; instead, it carried a desperate calmness.
"Mr. Qi is right. Besides this pitiful pride, I have nothing," she said, her voice surprisingly steady yet edged with sharpness. "So, what your money can't buy, perhaps can be exchanged for something else."
Qiyu's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, as if he hadn't expected this reaction. The mockery in his eyes slightly receded, replaced by scrutiny and curiosity. "Oh? What do you want to exchange for?"
"A job," Xiaochen stated clearly, her gaze unwavering. "A proper job where I earn money through my labor. Not this kind of... charity from you."
Qiyu stared at her, silent for a full dozen seconds. The aggressive aura around him gradually receded, transforming into a deeper, more elusive pressure. He suddenly realized this "wildcat" was far more interesting than he had thought.
The corner of his mouth twitched into a humorless smile.
"Fine," he said, his tone purely businesslike and cold. "I happen to need a personal assistant. A monthly salary of 100,000 yuan, responsible for handling my daily affairs and meeting all my work requirements."
He deliberately paused, his eyes sweeping over her widened ones, slowly adding the most critical and苛刻 condition:
"24/7 on call, available at any time. No fixed days off."
Xiaochen gasped. A monthly salary of 100,000 yuan—for someone burdened with her mother's enormous medical bills, it was an unimaginable sum. But "24/7 on call" and "meeting all requirements"... The implications hidden behind those words made her instinctively wary and resistant.
How was this different from selling herself? Perhaps it was just a more respectable label?
"What's wrong? Scared?" Qiyu caught her hesitation, the familiar mockery returning to his lips. "Where's all that pride from earlier? Or do you prefer taking the check after all?"
His provocation was crude but effective.
Xiaochen looked up sharply, her nails digging deeply into her palms. She knew this might be another trap, a carefully packaged humiliation. But she had no way out. Her mother's medication couldn't stop; her dialysis couldn't be interrupted. Principles couldn't put food on the table.
She needed this money. Desperately.
She bit her lower lip so hard that she tasted the metallic tang of blood, then squeezed out the words almost through gritted teeth:
"Fine. I accept."
A glint of anticipated triumph flashed in Qiyu's eyes, along with a faint, almost imperceptible flicker of interest even he wasn't aware of.
But Xiaochen immediately took a step forward, looking up at him with sharp, clear eyes filled with an unyielding resolve. She emphasized, word by word:
"But, Mr. Qi, please remember—this is purely a professional relationship between employer and employee. Nothing more."
(End of Chapter 5)