Daily Life of a Villain at Work [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 72

Chapter 72: My Twelfth Day as a Stingy (Frugal) CEO~

Chu Qi coughed lightly and introduced with a slight smile, “This is my boss, the current Chairman and CEO of Tazue Technology, Ms. Wen Qingyun.”

“Huh?” The former colleague’s mouth dropped open, her eyes practically screaming Are you kidding me?

When Fu Huan—an heir who hadn’t even secured his position yet—showed up, he alwaysmade a grand display. He’d bring at least one assistant, wear high-end custom suits, and sport cufflinks or watches worth the price of a house.

But this CEO Wen seemed a bit… too “down-to-earth.” Her clothes looked no different from what the colleague was wearing, and her jewelry was sparse to the point of being pathetic. The only things that truly stood out were her cold, aloof face and a perfect figure.

“C… CEO Wen?” the colleague stammered.

It seemed impossible, but she knew Chu Qi’s personality; Chu Qi would never joke about something like this.

“You can discuss specific job levels with Chu Qi. Her word is my word,” Wen Qingyun said, not forgetting to stuff a bite of stir-fried pork into her mouth.

It tastes good. Does everyone who likes making cat food for their pets also have great cooking skills?

“Oh, okay, right. Understood,” the colleague replied blankly, her movements as she poked at her rice becoming mechanical—a clear sign she hadn’t processed the shock.

Fifteen minutes later, Chu Qi and the former colleague were cleaning up the mess in the kitchen.

“Chu Qi, you… you guys aren’t just friends, are you?” the colleague whispered, glancing back toward the living room.

Having satisfied her hunger, Wen Qingyun was sitting on the sofa, holding the newly-awakened Yuanbao and using a comb to groom its loose fur.

“You noticed?” Chu Qi’s lips curled up. “That’s right. We’ve been together for a while now—about eight months.”

“Eight months? Weren’t you together before you quit?” The colleague blinked. “Last Lunar January, when I came to pick up Big Orange, were you not together then?”

Chu Qi’s smile was subtle. “Back then we were just good friends. We hadn’t confirmed the relationship.”

The colleague raised an eyebrow, her face full of disbelief. She had dated girls before; the marks on CEO Wen’s neck were obvious. If Chu Qi didn’t do that, she’d make Big Orange eat cans while doing a handstand!

“That’s not important. What matters is that Qingyun and I are serious. Our company is expanding. If your boss is willing to bring the team over, the conditions we can offer are genuinely excellent,” Chu Qi said.

Switching to work mode, the colleague’s expression turned serious. “I’ll pass the message to the Boss, but I can’t guarantee anything.”

“You have her contact info anyway. I’ll mention it to her tomorrow. If she doesn’t contact you, why don’t you reach out to her in a few days?”

“Sure, I’ll count on you then,” Chu Qi smiled.

“It’s no trouble. If I really jump ship, you have to look out for me,” the colleague laughed. “Help me get more benefits. You know raising Big Orange is expensive—she only likes the super-expensive canned food.”

…

The internal struggle between the two Hongyi heirs was no secret. Changing the reimbursement process twice a month had already bred resentment among the rank-and-file employees.

The R&D department, being a core sector, felt it most. One day Fu Han would come in with demands; the next, Fu Huan would call a meeting. Both wanted R&D in their pocket.

From the brothers’ perspective, they were fighting for the support of a vital department. But from R&D’s perspective, these daily changing requirements meant they were constantly wasting their efforts. With longer overtime and nothing to show for it, many talented young technical backbones were already looking for an exit.

“Are you sure CEO Wen of Tazue Technology said this herself?” Qin Qing, the head of R&D, felt a flicker of doubt upon hearing her subordinate’s report.

Everyone knew Hongyi was on a downward spiral. It couldn’t compare to Taxus, and it was even losing ground to Taxue’s subsidiary, Lexiant Life. Under these circumstances, if a subsidiary CEO had come to headhunt them, it might be believable. But the CEO of the main group?

Since when do big bosses moonlight as HR recruiters?

“Ahem, Boss, I’ll let you in on a secret. CEO Wen’s girlfriend is Chu Qi—the same Chu Qi who was in our department for two years and got fired for no reason.”

Qin Qing froze. “CEO Wen’s girlfriend… is Chu Qi?”

“Yeah! They even ate dinner at my place yesterday. Boss, CEO Wen is really approachable. A leader like her is one in a million.”

“What conditions did she offer?”

“Nothing specific yet, but CEO Wen said that whatever Chu Qi says, goes.”

“Alright, I see. I’ll consider it.”

Water flows down, but people climb up. If the CEO of Taxus Technology was truly extending an olive branch, they had to grab it.

…

Compared to Chu Qi, Fu Huan was a fool, but he wasn’t the type to trip over the same stone twice.

Hearing that R&D staff were planning to resign, he first followed his father Fu Hong’s example by offering raises. When he realized he couldn’t keep them, he played his trump card: forcing them to sign non-compete agreements.

Qin Qing had anticipated this. She negotiated the non-compete period down from two years to ten months, but demanded that Hongyi pay 100% of their salary as compensation during that period.

Fu Huan naturally refused. They settled for ten months, but with only 50% salary compensation. In exchange for the lower compensation, the penalty for breach of contract was set at five times the previous year’s annual income.

For an average employee making 100k, that was 500k-600k. But for someone like Qin Qing, who made a million-dollar salary, that was 5 million. This figure made Fu Huan certain Qin Qing wouldn’t dare violate the contract.

After the contracts were signed, Qin Qing and six technical backbones completed their resignation in early November.

The very next day, Qin Qing appeared in Chu Qi’s office.

“I’ve calculated the liquidated damages—a total of ten million. Is CEO Chu truly willing to pay this?” Qin Qing said with a smile, laying out the seven non-compete contracts.

“Of course. But purely from a technical standpoint, the patents we hold are no less than Hongyi’s. The specific payout amount will still need to be reviewed by professionals.”

Chu Qi smiled. She knew her girlfriend’s style. Wen Qingyun wouldn’t be stingy with necessary spending, but she would avoid avoidable losses at all costs.

“Just focus on your onboarding. Legal will handle this small problem for you,” Chu Qi assured.

“And will I still be doing the same R&D work?” Qin Qing asked.

Chu Qi opened a folder on her desk and handed it over. “This is the contract. The company has already stamped it. If there are no issues, just sign.”

As agreed, the salary for Qin Qing and the other six was 120% of their previous pay, with benefits superior to Hongyi’s. Most importantly, there were no daily-changing demands here. They just needed to follow the plan set during weekly meetings.

Qin Qing read the contract carefully and extended her hand to Chu Qi. “I look forward to working with you.”

“Likewise,” Chu Qi smiled, shaking her hand.

…

The loss of seven R&D backbones inevitably hindered Hongyi Electronic’s new product development. But when employees are determined to leave, no one can stop them. Seeing that they had signed non-competes, Fu Hong didn’t ask much and simply told HR to recruit new people.

By the time news reached Fu Hong that Qin Qing had joined Lexiang Life, ten days had passed.

Fu Hong was furious and called Fu Huan in for a scolding. The aggrieved Fu Huan had his new assistant bring the seven contracts to prove his innocence.

“Dad, they violated the agreement! We can sue for damages!” Fu Huan said. “I’ve calculated—we can get ten million in penalties.”

Fu Hong didn’t speak. He looked closely at the contracts and found a supplementary clause emphasizing that the “five times annual salary” penalty only applied if the employee caused damage to the company by leaking patented technology.

Fu Hong’s brow furrowed, his eyes filling with disappointment. He couldn’t even see such a massive loophole in the contract. Is this son beyond saving?

“Then go ahead and pursue the liability,” Fu Hong said, setting the documents down. He had made up his mind. The internal fighting was hurting the company too much; he had to choose one successor and stand by them firmly.

Unaware that he had failed yet another test, Fu Huan beat his chest and guaranteed he would get the maximum compensation from Qin Qing and the others.

The claim that arrived ten days later was merely an appetizer for Tauxe’s legal department. They only had to show that the patents Lexiant Life was using were shared by Taxue; the conditions for the claim collapsed instantly.

This was unacceptable to Fu Huan. “How is this not a leak! They were R&D! They know all our company’s tech!”

“They are clearly using our tech as a competitor! How does that not qualify?” Fu Huan shouted.

“As far as I know, the patents Hongyi Electronics holds exclusively have not been used by Ms. Qin or the others. The contract is clear: it limits patented technology, not Ms. Qin’s ability to create value for other companies using her own skills.”

“In conclusion, Ms. Qin and the others have not breached the agreement. Per the contract, Hongyi Electronics must continue to pay 50% of their original salary every month as compensation.”

The legal counsel remained calm, his expression unchanging even as Fu Huan’s veins popped from anger. Thanks to their boss, Taxus’s legal team was top-tier, capable of winning almost any case and taking a “pound of flesh” from the opponent in return.

Refusing to lose face, Fu Huan filed a lawsuit.

However, before the court date even arrived, Hongyi Electronic’s stock price collapsed. It dropped more than 8% for three consecutive days, causing panic selling among investors. Fu Hong tried to dump 100 million into the market to prop up the price on Monday. It helped—but not much.

By the afternoon, a report was released stating that Hongyi Electronics’s products failed quality inspections. Before the market closed, the price plummeted back to its opening value, and Fu Hong’s 100 million vanished into thin air.

Fu Hong called an emergency board meeting, trying to find a backer.

“Unless Taxue Technology is willing to step in,” the second-largest shareholder said tonelessly. “Hongyi and Taxue’s new business lines overlap heavily. We could offer them shares in exchange for a partnership.”

“A few shares?” another shareholder scoffed. “If it’s not more than a third, I don’t think that woman will be interested.”

“If you’ve seen her acquisitions, you’d know that unless it’s a world-renowned old brand, no company keeps its name after she buys them. Hongyi isn’t prestigious enough for her to keep the brand alive.”

“Let’s just delist. Cite annual losses. We can relist after we restructure and the new products take off.”

“No way. Delisting would destroy our brand image. It would just lead to bankruptcy.”

The shareholders began to argue. Hongyi’s market value was nearing its original IPO price. If they kept going, would they end up owing money?

Fu Hong’s head began to ache. Delisting could avoid some losses, but if the brand image fell, the business wouldn’t survive. They’d be forced to become a mere OEM factory, earning pennies for processing. No decision could be reached in one meeting.

…

The first snow in Haishi soon fell. Finding the top floor particularly romantic for snow-watching, Wen Qingyun called Chu Qi up.

“It really is beautiful. You can see the river view,” Chu Qi said, holding Wen Qingyun’s hand as they stood by the floor-to-ceiling window. The central heating was efficient; they didn’t need heavy coats, just matching thin sweaters.

“You can see the snow from my lounge too. Want to go check it out?” Wen Qingyun invited.

When the first snow fell last year, they weren’t nearly this close. There was no chance of “having fun” while watching the snow then. Naturally, Chu Qi didn’t refuse; she was secretly delighted.

Wen Qingyun locked the office door, told her assistant not to disturb her as she was “resting,” and then led Chu Qi into the lounge, locking that door too.

“One-way glass. They can’t see in from the outside,” Wen Qingyun said, pulling Chu Qi toward the bed.

As Wen Qingyun leaned in, her hair slid over her shoulders, her tresses brushing Chu Qi’s cheek, making Chu Qi blink.

“I still have unfinished work this afternoon…” Chu Qi licked her lips. This was her first time slacking off with the big boss during work hours.

“Then work overtime tonight. I’ll pay you for it,” Wen Qingyun said, her warm fingertips tracing the lines of Chu Qi’s recently developed abs, moving upward.

Chu Qi let out a soft hum, then hooked her arms around Wen Qingyun’s neck, pulling her down onto the bed.

“So, will I be working overtime at the office, or at home?” Chu Qi asked.

Before Wen Qingyun could answer, Chu Qi kissed her, trying to reclaim dominance.

“It’s working hours right now,” Wen Qingyun panted slightly, her chest heaving. “As a subordinate, you must follow your leader’s arrangements.”

Chu Qi blinked. “Alright. What are the leader’s orders?”

“The leader needs to… inspect your body,” Wen Qingyun said, beginning to undo Chu Qi’s buttons.

Chu Qi had never played like this before and was fully cooperative. Seeing the skyscrapers outside every time she turned her head gave her a surge of adrenaline. Her mind started to wander.

Who’s in the office below this? How good is the soundproofing? If we’re too loud, will someone notice?

Even though their relationship was an open secret among the executives, the thought of being caught “doing this” during work hours still made her feel a faint sense of guilt.

“You’re distracted.” Wen Qingyun was unhappy. She felt her “technique” was being mocked. In terms of stamina, she was definitely stronger than Chu Qi! Was Chu Qi looking down on her?

Determined to teach Chu Qi a lesson, Wen Qingyun quickened her pace, successfully making Chu Qi grit her teeth and forcing her to focus entirely on her.

“Wait… slow… slower…”

When Qingyun didn’t say a word, she just continued to press her advantage. In the end, she earned a tooth mark on her shoulder.

…

The weather turned cold, and Hongyi Electronics didn’t make it to the second snowfall.

The plummeting stock price forced Fu Hong to face reality. Delisting was inevitable. No matter how much he apologized, he couldn’t change the fact that the brand was worthless.

Wen Qingyun didn’t miss the opportunity. During the last few workdays before the New Year, she acquired a massive amount of shares at rock-bottom prices. Finally, she teamed up with other small shareholders to kick Fu Hong out.

After Fu Hong liquidated all his stock, Hongyi Electronics announced a name change and industrial restructuring. Useful production lines were merged into Lexiang Life.

After the New Year, Wen Qingyun began a purge of middle and high-level management. 70% of the executives were cleared. Even after new hires, the total number of executives was only half of what it used to be.

For the rank-and-file employees, Wen Qingyun was more lenient. She didn’t expect someone making a few thousand to do the work of someone making tens of thousands. Plus, the government didn’t want mass unemployment. So, she only fired those who got in through connections without skill and redefined the departmental duties.

The original OEM business was kept. The frontline workers’ positions remained mostly unchanged; in fact, their salaries were raised by 5-10%, and their rest time was better guaranteed. This approach earned her a green light from the authorities. In just three months, Hongyi Electronics completely vanished from Haishi.

[Congratulations Host on completing the mission. Would you like to leave this world?] The system prompt popped up.

“No, I’m staying.” Wen Qingyun chose without hesitation. Chu Qi provided such excellent “service”—how could she leave her behind?

The system wasn’t surprised. It confirmed the choice and went back to slacking.

…

After watching another movie, Wen Qingyun and Chu Qi stopped in front of a lottery stand, just like their first date.

“Machine-printed ones. Buy ten. I’ll pick five, and the rest are yours,” Wen Qingyun said. She still didn’t believe she would always have bad luck.

Chu Qi had no objections and scanned the code to pay.

Wen Qingyun looked at the serial numbers seriously, picked five that she thought looked auspicious, and started scratching.

Chu Qi had chosen the 20-yuan tickets. Wen Qingyun got three duds, one that broke even, and one for 50. Total loss: 30 yuan.

“Considering a 50% break-even rate, my luck isn’t bad,” Wen Qingyun reasoned.

Chu Qi nodded in agreement, then scratched her five. One dud, one break-even, one for 50, one for 100, and one for 500.

“How can machine-printed ones have a winning streak like this?” Wen Qingyun felt her heart crack a little. Out of ten tickets, only four were duds—and she had meticulously hand-picked all of them.

“My money is your money. It’s all yours,” Chu Qi immediately declared, stuffing all the winning tickets into Wen Qingyun’s hand.

Wen Qingyun was still a bit annoyed with her luck, but for the sake of the 740-yuan profit, she was only unhappy for a minute.

As for a wedding, Wen Qingyun had no interest. She thought it was a flashy, exhausting ritual. Chu Qi felt the same; she didn’t need anyone to witness their life together. However, they took plenty of wedding photos—themes ranging from ancient and Republican-era to modern and Western.

When Wen Qingyun’s mother, who had picked up her paintbrush again, heard her daughter had a partner, she took some time to process it, then volunteered to paint a portrait for them.

Just like now, Wen Qingyun held Yuanbao while Chu Qi held Wen Qingyun, the two humans and one cat acting as models.

Yuanbao was a very healthy cat, but feline lifespans are limited. Not long after its twentieth birthday, Yuanbao passed away in its sleep. Chu Qi’s eyes were red for days, and she would often stare at a felted cat made from Yuanbao’s fur. This only eased when they found a little girl in an orphanage hiding in a corner with a kitten. They adopted both the girl and the orange cat, whom they named Gold Bar.

Chu Qi was a year younger than Wen Qingyun, but as they aged, it was her health that failed first. When Qingyun hated the idea of being the one left behind to say goodbye; she had thought about leaving first. But seeing Chu Qi, despite her failing health, insisting on doing things for her, Wen Qingyun couldn’t bear to leave her.

“Qingyun, I haven’t finished the money in my card yet. Remember to spend it all for me, and then… come find me,” Chu Qi gave one last smile. “Everything I have is yours. I love you.”

Those were Chu Qi’s last words.

Wen Qingyun didn’t make a sound. With cold efficiency, she spent one day receiving Chu Qi’s inheritance. She spent another day notarizing her will, leaving all assets to their adopted daughter. Then, she eagerly closed her eyes and left the world.

Staying for two days after Chu Qi left was her limit. There was no way she was staying to deal with the funeral as a widow!