Daily Life of a Villain at Work [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 33

Chapter 33: The Tenth Day the Protagonist’s Heart Fluttered Wildly~

After posting her Weibo with effortless cool, Wen Qingyun tossed her phone aside and padded over to the study in her slippers to find her mother.

“Mom, are you busy?” Wen Qingyun leaned against the doorframe, poking her head inside.

“Not busy. Need something?” Ms. Wen set down the reports she was reviewing and looked up at her daughter, who was acting suspiciously like a cat.

Wen Qingyun put on a sweet, obedient expression, closed the door behind her, and sat down opposite her mother with a serious tone.

“Mom, I have something I need to report to you.”

“Alright, I’m listening.” Ms. Wen interlaced her fingers on the desk, striking a pose of attentive listening.

“Today, on my account with nearly twenty million followers, I posted that I have someone I like, and that person is female.” Wen Qingyun paused considerately, giving her mother time to react.

After a full five seconds of silence, Wen Qingyun continued: “Actually, it’s more than that. I’ve been seeing this person as a partner for a while now. So far, I think she’s quite wonderful.”

Ms. Wen began to contemplate, her brow furrowing slightly before relaxing three seconds later. “Is it Chu Ke?”

“Bingo! Mom, you guessed it~” Wen Qingyun grinned. “So, Mom, what do you think of my girlfriend?”

“I’ve looked over Chu Ke’s file. It hasn’t been easy for her to get where she is. She’s a good kid.” Ms. Wen first acknowledged Chu Ke’s hard work and resilience.

Ms. Wen had looked at Chu Ke’s background twice—once when her daughter was filming in Shishu Village, and again more thoroughly after Wen Qingyun personally admitted they were friends.

Chu Ke was born in a village in a small county. At five, her father drowned after a drunken fall; at eight, her mother died young from illness. The fact that Chu Ke managed to stay in school with only her grandmother as kin was largely due to the state’s mandatory nine-year education and social security policies.

Chu Ke was diligent. She was admitted to the top provincial high school with the third-highest score in the county. Not only was her tuition waived, but she also received poverty subsidies and a specialized local government scholarship.

Tragically, during her first year of university, her only remaining relative, Grandma Chu, passed away from illness, leaving Chu Ke truly alone.

Chu Ke’s grandmother had two sons. Aside from Chu Ke’s father, there was an idle, good-for-nothing uncle—a man Chu Ke didn’t consider family, despite their blood relation. This uncle shared her father’s love for drinking but added a gambling addiction to the mix.

Drowning in debt, he had targeted Chu Ke, attempting to “sell” his niece to use the dowry to pay off his creditors. Fortunately, Chu Ke was an adult by then and wary of her estranged uncle; she called the police on the grounds of attempted human trafficking. With the help of a female officer and a representative from the Women’s Federation, she successfully cut ties with him. After learning the truth, the villagers also stood by Chu Ke—the only university student the village had produced in a decade—and drove the uncle out of the village.

Given this background, Chu Ke’s motivation for becoming a poverty alleviation cadre was easy to guess. She likely wanted there to be fewer girls who shared her experience, hoping that rural prosperity could change the fates of others.

“But?” Wen Qingyun prompted. Since her mother started with an affirmation, a “but” was inevitable.

“But, your personalities and ways of handling things are very different. Issues that aren’t obvious during a short-term fling will slowly explode during long-term cohabitation. If these issues aren’t resolved, you’ll end up parting ways.”

“Qingyun, I know your temperament; you won’t force yourself to endure hardship. And Chu Ke’s persistence suggests she won’t give up her current path. Can you really maintain a long-distance relationship indefinitely?”

“If you spend less than a month together in a year, can this relationship last?”

Ms. Wen’s questions weren’t sharp; they were simply a matter-of-fact assessment based on her knowledge of her daughter and Chu Ke’s history.

Wen Qingyun pondered for a moment. “But Chu Ke won’t stay in Anshan County forever, will she?”

“Oh?” Ms. Wen raised an eyebrow.

“As an ordinary person, Chu Ke might have to struggle in Anshan County her whole life. But as my partner, she can do much more.” Wen Qingyun winked at her mother. “Mom, you said it yourself—she’s hardworking and resilient. If we give her just a little bit of opportunity and help, could she reach higher ground?”

Ms. Wen thought seriously. “Principally, it’s doable. But if the premise is based on a public relationship, Chu Ke would have to be one in a million, suppressing all competitors with political achievements so brilliant they can’t be ignored.”

“Chu Ke can do it,” Wen Qingyun said without hesitation. “For women in the system to rise, they already have to outperform everyone else by a landslide. She did it before, and she can do it again.”

“Besides, liking the same sex has never been a crime. At the very least, they can’t openly disqualify her for that, can they?”

Ms. Wen smiled—a look of relief and pride.

“Since you have a plan, go ahead.” Ms. Wen poured a cup of tea for her daughter and placed it before her. “It’s a difficult road, but if it’s Chu Ke, she might actually walk it to the end.”

“And what if it were me?” Wen Qingyun asked, tracing the rim of the teacup. “If Chu Ke can do it, I should be able to, right?”

Ms. Wen paused mid-sip, then spoke calmly. “On your second day of work, you would fire your boss because they stepped into the office with their left foot first.”

Given her daughter’s temper, it was a miracle she could last even one day under the rules of the system. She might tolerate greeting leaders respectfully for a while, but the moment she sat through a meeting and heard a single patronizing, “mansplaining” speech, she would likely slap her resignation letter on the boss’s desk.

Hearing the blunt truth that she would “fire her boss,” Wen Qingyun gave a dry laugh and quickly changed the subject.

“Mom, Chu Ke is coming to the capital next week. I’ll spend a few days out with her, then bring her back to meet you on New Year’s Day.”

Ms. Wen understood the subtext, but she had no intention of interfering in her daughter’s private life. “Suit yourself. Just remember to take Xiao Si and the guards with you.”

“Have fun,” Ms. Wen added. “If you find problems, solve them. If they can’t be solved, end it cleanly. Chu Ke is a good kid, but she isn’t the only one.”

“Don’t worry, Mom. I’d never let myself be the one who suffers,” Wen Qingyun replied with a smile.

…

With her mother’s tacit approval, Wen Qingyun was in high spirits. Returning to her room to find a string of messages from Sister Xiao, she stared at the ceiling for three seconds before successfully pacifying her with a single text.

[Wen Qingyun: Thanks for the hard work! As a year-end bonus, I’m giving you 2% of the studio shares~ =3=]

Sister Xiao’s hands froze. The only shareholders of Good Wind Studio were her and Wen Qingyun, originally split 20/80. Based on current trends, the studio’s annual revenue could break 100 million. After expenses and taxes, a profit of at least 50 million was guaranteed.

That meant 2% was worth at least a million.

Comforted by the power of money, Sister Xiao’s frustration vanished instantly. Working hard for oneself was worth it. A few days of stress for an extra million or two a year? What a bargain!

[Sister Xiao: Do you want to go public with Chu Ke? If so, I’ll make arrangements early.]

[Wen Qingyun: Around New Year’s, I’ll announce I have a girlfriend. I’ll let the netizens guess the rest for now. I won’t reveal it’s Chu Ke yet.]

Wen Qingyun hadn’t discussed a full reveal with Chu Ke yet. Even though she knew Chu Ke wouldn’t mind, it was a decision for both of them.

[Sister Xiao: Got it. Happy New Year in advance!]

…

The week flew by. Chu Ke had been in a state of high excitement all week. Her anticipation for the future boosted her efficiency so much that she finished all her tasks a day early.

On her free day, she was nervously “slacking off.” She pulled out her little notebook countless times to review “knowledge points” and kept chugging water every few minutes.

When the announcement came that the plane was about to land, Chu Ke gripped her seatbelt, her nerves flaring up. Beijing Capital International Airport in the early hours was relatively quiet. After retrieving her luggage via the jet bridge, the tension only intensified.

This wasn’t her first time at the airport; she had studied its layout carefully when she came to “chase” Wen Qingyun as a fan before. Entering the arrival hall, her eyes searched the crowd for that familiar silhouette. Per Wen Qingyun’s request, she had sent her flight info early and even took a photo of the airport before boarding.

Thinking she was about to see the woman she loved, her palms began to sweat, forcing her to switch hands on her suitcase handle.

Buzz—Buzz—

Her phone vibrated in her coat pocket. Chu Ke stopped and pulled it out. After Face ID unlocked it, Wen Qingyun’s message popped up.

[Turn around.]

Two simple words. Chu Ke instinctively followed the command.

Huh? No one’s there?

She turned almost a full 180 degrees, scanning everyone walking toward her, focusing on those in hats and masks, trying to see through their disguises.

“Turned too far~” A familiar voice whispered behind her ear. Chu Ke spun back to her original position to see Wen Qingyun in a white wool coat.

Wen Qingyun stood right there, looking at her with a smile in her eyes.

“Long time no see, Chu Ke.”

Hearing that familiar tone again and seeing Chu Ke standing there in a daze, Wen Qingyun took a step forward and opened her arms. Chu Ke dropped her suitcase, took two steps, and threw herself into the embrace, burying her head in the crook of Wen Qingyun’s neck.

“Wen Qingyun,” Chu Ke’s voice sounded muffled.

“Mhm?” Wen Qingyun reached up to stroke Chu Ke’s hair. I haven’t teased her lately, why does she seem so aggrieved? Who bullied her?

“I… I missed you so much.” Chu Ke closed her eyes as she spoke, as if hiding from reality would give her more courage. “Did you miss me even a little bit?”

Wen Qingyun chuckled. Her hand moved to Chu Ke’s ear, giving it a mercilessly playful tug. “A little. Probably about half as much as you missed me.”

Before Chu Ke could respond, Wen Qingyun let go of her now-bright-red ear. “You don’t want to keep hugging me here until we hit #1 on the trending searches, do you?”

“No, I… sorry.” Chu Ke did her habitual triple-apology and hurriedly let go.

Wen Qingyun just smiled, hooked a finger around one of Chu Ke’s, and led her forward.

The capital at midnight was still brightly lit. To make things convenient, Wen Qingyun had chosen a hotel only fifteen minutes from the airport. It was, as usual, a luxury presidential suite.

“Hungry?” Wen Qingyun inserted the key card, and the lights flooded the room.

“I ate before the flight, I’m not very hungry,” Chu Ke said. Hearing the door lock with a click, she instinctively swallowed.

“I see. Then no room service yet.” Wen Qingyun sat on the sofa, looking at Chu Ke with a smile that, paired with her almond eyes, made her look like a seductive little fox.

“There are two bathrooms here. Do you want to go to the large one with me for a soak, or should we shower separately?”

“I…” Chu Ke’s throat tightened. Nothing had even happened yet, but her face was already turning a deep crimson.

“Separate… let’s do it separately. I’ll go first.” Chu Ke didn’t dare think further. She frantically opened her suitcase, grabbed a change of clothes, and prepared to bolt for the bathroom.

“Wait,” Wen Qingyun called out.

“Yes?” Chu Ke turned back, her movements stiff.

Wen Qingyun didn’t say a word. She went to the bedroom, opened the wardrobe, and pulled out a transparent storage bag.

“There’s a clean bathrobe in here. Put this on after you wash.” Wen Qingyun tucked the bag into the crook of Chu Ke’s arm, simultaneously taking the change of clothes from her hand.

“Hurry up. I’ll wait for you in the bedroom,” Wen Qingyun urged.

“O-okay.” Chu Ke clutched the bag, her footsteps floating as she drifted into the bathroom.

Wen Qingyun had taken a milk bath before coming, so she only needed a quick rinse. Within ten minutes, she emerged in a black silk camisole nightgown and sat cross-legged on the sofa.

How long will Chu Ke take? Twenty minutes? Half an hour? Surely not an hour?

Wen Qingyun tapped her phone screen. She had no desire to browse the web; her mind was entirely occupied with what was to come.

Surprisingly, Chu Ke was fast. In twenty-five minutes, she entered the bedroom in the cream-colored silk robe Wen Qingyun had provided, looking extremely bashful.

The reason for her bashfulness was simple: when Wen Qingyun said she was giving her a bathrobe, she only gave her a bathrobe. Aside from the silk robe, there was nothing else in that bag.

In other words, Chu Ke was completely “commando.” Those few steps into the room had cost her every ounce of courage she possessed.

Noticing Chu Ke was red from her neck to her forehead, Wen Qingyun purposefully glanced down at her feet. Mhm, as expected, her toes are curled tight against the floor. How nervous is she?

“Chu Ke, come here.” Wen Qingyun beckoned, tossing her phone onto the carpet.

Chu Ke gave a muffled “Mhm” and walked toward her step by step. Following a look from Wen Qingyun, she leaned down. Wen Qingyun didn’t hold back; she grabbed the belt of the robe, pulled Chu Ke into her lap, and pressed a vivid kiss against those pursed lips.

Chu Ke had studied theoretical experience well. She had even taken diligent notes on “cooking techniques” shared by netizens. But theory is always shallow; the actual “practice” depends on the situation at hand.

The deep-seated inferiority in her heart kept her from being too proactive, leaving her to be manipulated by Wen Qingyun in the beginning. She followed every command Wen Qingyun gave, like a warm-blooded robot.

Wen Qingyun was very satisfied with Chu Ke’s obedience and enjoyed exploring where her limits of endurance lay.

The sofa was a bit cramped for maneuvering. After the second kiss ended, Wen Qingyun led Chu Ke to a change of scenery. The mattress in the suite was high quality—at least in terms of “bounce”—giving Wen Qingyun plenty of room to play.

Before long, tears began to well in the corners of Chu Ke’s flushed eyes. Being constantly teased without release was a sweet torture. Her prideful endurance didn’t help much; soon, she couldn’t help but let out small whimpers.

Wen Qingyun felt she was truly destined to be a villain. The more Chu Ke tried to endure, the more excited she became, wanting to bully her further until she finally broke. But she wasn’t entirely heartless; while satisfying her own wicked whims, she gave Chu Ke enough sweetness to leave her completely lost in a daze of passion.

…

Wen Qingyun had slightly miscalculated. She originally thought they would be done by 4:00 AM, allowing them to wash up, grab a snack, and watch the sunrise together—very romantic.

She hadn’t expected Chu Ke’s physical stamina to be as impressive as her endurance. When it was over, Wen Qingyun was too tired to even keep her eyes open. She squinted through a quick bath and fell asleep in the side bedroom, holding Chu Ke.

By the time she woke up groggily, the sun was high in the sky. It was past noon.

“Wen Qingyun?” Chu Ke called out tentatively. Realizing her voice was exceptionally raspy, she immediately shut her mouth.

“Mhm~” Wen Qingyun let go of the person in her arms, stretched her arms wide, and let out a satisfied yawn.

“What time is it?” Wen Qingyun asked. Her voice was also a bit low and husky, but much better than Chu Ke’s.

“Twelve-fifty. Almost one,” Chu Ke said, looking at the wall clock. Catching a glimpse of the marks on Wen Qingyun’s neck from the corner of her eye, she instinctively looked away and began studying the ceiling, not daring to look again.

However, her slightly accelerated breathing betrayed her, suggesting she was remembering some heart-pounding scenes.

“I’m hungry. What do you want to eat?” Wen Qingyun propped herself up with one hand. Unbothered by her state of undress, she tousled her hair and looked for her phone.

“A-anything is fine.” Chu Ke didn’t dare let her gaze linger on Wen Qingyun for too long. Even though they had shared the most intimate of acts, she still couldn’t bring herself to stare openly.

“Is your phone in here?” Wen Qingyun asked.

Chu Ke was huddled under the covers, leaving only her head visible—looking small, weak, and helpless. This sight made Wen Qingyun laugh. She mischievously lifted part of the blanket to admire Chu Ke’s panicked expression.

“I-I don’t think it’s in this room. M-maybe the living room?” Chu Ke stammered, gripping the blanket for dear life.

“Mm, go get your phone then. I want to order some food.” Wen Qingyun poked Chu Ke through the blanket.

“Okay, hold on.” Chu Ke looked around, saw a bath towel at the foot of the bed, and wriggled out to grab it, wrapping it around herself like a makeshift robe.

Wen Qingyun didn’t tease her further, watching as the red-faced, barefoot woman scurried out. Chu Ke returned with both phones and a fresh set of clothes for herself. Oh, and she brought a new nightgown for Wen Qingyun too.

“Is this one okay? I got it from the main wardrobe,” Chu Ke said. Once dressed, her embarrassment subsided slightly, and her voice sounded more professional.

“It’s fine. Scan the code and see if there’s anything you like on the hotel menu.” Wen Qingyun took the gown, slipped it on, and tossed her hair back.

Chu Ke gave a quiet “Mhm,” sat on the edge of the bed, and began fiddling with her phone. Wen Qingyun also checked hers. Seeing nothing urgent, she set it aside.

Chu Ke had just opened the ordering app when she felt a weight on her shoulder and a familiar scent. When Qingyun hugged her from behind, leaning most of her weight on her. “Chosen yet?”

“What do you want to eat?” Chu Ke braced her upper body, trying to ignore the slight ache in her lower back.

“I want some hot noodles.” Wen Qingyun rested her chin on Chu Ke’s shoulder, her voice lazy. “And a steak, medium-well. Plus a bottle of sparkling wine, chilled. I feel like drinking.”

Chu Ke silently searched for the items and placed two orders as requested. Seeing Chu Ke remain silent, Wen Qingyun felt a bit bored. She picked up a lock of her own long hair and lightly brushed the ends against Chu Ke’s cheek.

“Comrade Chu Ke, were you satisfied with my performance last night?” Wen Qingyun whispered into her ear.

That single sentence caused the blush that had finally faded to return with a vengeance. Chu Ke almost accidentally exited the app.

“Hmm? Why aren’t you talking? Are you unsatisfied?” Wen Qingyun wasn’t going to let her off this time.

“N-no.” Chu Ke gripped her phone tight, her knuckles turning white.

“Mm-hmm?”

“It was… v-very good. I-I am very satisfied.” Chu Ke’s voice was tiny. If Wen Qingyun weren’t so close, she wouldn’t have heard it.

“Then shall we continue tonight?” Wen Qingyun teased Chu Ke’s nose with her hair.

“Okay,” Chu Ke replied. This time, her voice was a bit firmer, and the reply was much faster.