Becoming the Runaway Little Wife of the Domineering CEO - Chapter 23

Yin Shuang blinked, her mind whirling as she tried to make sense of the sudden shift in the room.

She leaned back, trying to tilt her chin out of Fu Mang’s grasp. But as she retreated, Fu Mang followed, pressing closer and closer until Yin Shuang was forced to prop herself up on her elbows. She felt a faint crease form between her brows.

“President Fu,” she whispered, “are you drunk?”

Fu Mang didn’t answer. Instead, she tightened her grip slightly. Her thumb brushed against the soft skin of Yin Shuang’s jawline, testing the texture. She narrowed her eyes, her expression shifting into one of pure, unadulterated enjoyment.

Yin Shuang stared back, utterly baffled. Fu Mang was scratching her chin the way one might stroke a cat. At that moment, the verdict was clear: Fu Mang was absolutely hammered.

Fu Mang was nowhere near as strong as her. With a subtle surge of effort, Yin Shuang twisted out of the “clutches” and scrambled to the far end of the sofa. Fu Mang’s palm went empty, and she looked up with a dazed expression, wondering when on earth Jin Xiaoyu had teleported across the room.

Alcohol-induced lapses in judgment were universal—even a Siberian Husky would lose its mind after a few drinks. Yin Shuang, deciding to be the bigger person, magnanimously granted Fu Mang a one-time pardon for her behavior.

Standing up, Yin Shuang said, “President Fu, you’ve had way too much. Come on, I’m taking you up to bed.”

Fu Mang looked up at her, and suddenly, she let out a soft laugh.

“Jin Xiaoyu.”

“Yes?” Yin Shuang replied.

Fu Mang crossed one leg over the other. Lacking the strength to sit up straight, she propped her head on her hand and watched Yin Shuang with a lazy, lopsided gaze. She called her name again, her voice trailing off. “Jin Xiaoyu…”

Yin Shuang sighed. It seemed Fu Mang had reached the “broken record” stage of intoxication. No matter what was said to her, the words simply didn’t register.

Resigned, Yin Shuang moved closer, intending to hoist Fu Mang up and carry her to her room. But just as she crouched down, before her hands could even touch her, Fu Mang sat up with a mysterious air. She pressed a finger to her lips, offering a soft, conspiratorial shh.

Yin Shuang froze. She assumed Fu Mang had sensed some impending danger. Her entire body snapped into a state of high alert, and she held her breath, scanning the silent house for any sign of an intruder. Seeing her so tense, Fu Mang patted her shoulder and whispered, “I have a secret to tell you.”

Oh. No danger. Yin Shuang relaxed, her curiosity piqued. Fu Mang was usually a closed book; perhaps a drunk Fu Mang would be more honest. Maybe she’d even blurt out the code to the safe.

Thinking this, Yin Shuang’s eyes sparkled. She nodded along, lowering her own voice to a whisper. “What secret? Go ahead, I’ll keep it safe.”

Fu Mang offered a warm, hazy smile before leaning in close. “I’m going… to dock your pay.”

Yin Shuang: “…………”

It took every ounce of her willpower to keep her face from twitching. She spent several seconds suppressing the flash of irritation that flared in her chest, chanting a mantra to herself: Don’t argue with a drunkard. Don’t argue with a drunkard. After a deep breath, she forced a tight, toothy smile. “And why is that?”

“Because,” Fu Mang said, as if it were the most logical thing in the world, “you are disobedient. You are dishonest. And you are incompetent.”

The list was thorough, but Yin Shuang couldn’t disagree more. “How am I disobedient? Or dishonest? I listen to everything you say! I do everything you ask! Aside from those two holidays, when have I ever left your side? I even guard you from the room next door while you sleep! And after all that, you want to dock my pay? That’s cold!”

More importantly, her salary was already mostly spoken for through pre-deductions. If Fu Mang cut any more, she’d be working the whole month for free. Yin Shuang didn’t mention the money, though; even a poor sword spirit had her pride.

“You never listen to me,” Fu Mang insisted, her tone full of righteous indignation. “Just now, I told you not to call me ‘President Fu,’ yet it’s still ‘President Fu’ this and ‘President Fu’ that. You aren’t listening at all.”

Yin Shuang went quiet. She had actually tried to reason with a drunk person. It was a mercy no one else was here to witness such a lapse in judgment.

She pursed her lips and gave in. “Fine. What do you want me to call you instead?”

Fu Mang paused. “I don’t know.”

“…If you don’t even know, how am I supposed to change? I have to call you something.”

Fu Mang seemed to find this a reasonable point. She began to think—really think—about what Jin Xiaoyu should call her. But the more she thought, the more her brain felt like a bowl of overcooked porridge. She massaged her temples, the effort of logic threatening to make her head explode. Suddenly, she looked up, her eyes narrowing into slits. Her expression turned sharp and icy. “I remember now! You’re dishonest! You’re incompetent! I’m docking your pay!”

Yin Shuang: “…” One of these days, this woman is going to be the death of me.

“Fine. Tell me then. How am I dishonest? How am I incompetent? Tell me, and I’ll fix it.”

Yin Shuang sat on the sofa, her gaze no longer soft. Just because she usually played nice didn’t mean she lacked a temper. She’d never had a conflict before because no one dared to cross her. She had certainly never met anyone as stubborn as Fu Mang.

Even in her drunken state, Fu Mang’s instincts for reading a room remained. Sensing Yin Shuang’s annoyance, her bravado faltered. She looked down, her voice dropping to a mumble. “You don’t tell me the truth. That’s dishonest. And as a bodyguard, you don’t focus on your work. You’re always making me distracted. That’s incompetent.”

None of this makes sense, Yin Shuang thought, her brow furrowing. But now that the floodgates were open, Fu Mang’s eyes searched hers. “Why didn’t you react?”

“Huh?”

“When I went to the bar. When I went on the date. Why did you have no reaction?” Fu Mang turned her whole body to face Yin Shuang. She looked sober one second and completely gone the next, her presence suddenly overwhelming. Even without moving, she made Yin Shuang feel as though she were being cornered.

Yin Shuang opened her mouth. “Because…”

She stopped.

Wait. This question makes zero sense. A boss goes out to find a date or look for some fun; why on earth would her bodyguard need a “reaction”? If she did react, that would be the weird part!

Realizing she held the logical high ground, Yin Shuang straightened her back and lifted her chin, attempting to reclaim the dominant aura. But before she could speak, Fu Mang cut her off.

“Actually, it doesn’t matter if you have a reaction or not,” Fu Mang said to herself. “Because the decision lies with me. Your reaction isn’t important. What matters is my reaction.”

Yin Shuang was dizzy. All this talk of reactions was making her head spin.

“I…” Fu Mang looked at her knees, then back into Yin Shuang’s eyes. “My reaction is… that I wish you did have a reaction.”

This sentence sounded different from all the others. Saying it seemed to drain the last of Fu Mang’s energy. When she finished, a flicker of secret, desperate expectation lingered in her eyes.

Yin Shuang, however, hadn’t understood a single word. She simply stared back with the same innocent, blank gaze.

Fu Mang: “…”

Yin Shuang: “…”

Thirty seconds later, Fu Mang’s gaze turned cold again.

“Next month’s salary, all of it will be deducted.”

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