I Transmigrated Into The Secret Husband Of The Zerg Marshal - Chapter 5

Chapter 5: An Abrupt Halt

It took me half an hour to swallow that Michelin-starred meal disguised as spirulina.

Every bite was like chewing on expanding foam—the taste was bizarre, the texture horrifying. After eating, my stomach felt like it was hosting a code review meeting: a tempest of ideas with various “experts” deadlocked in my gut.

I collapsed onto the rug, clutching my beloved thermos, feeling like I had just fought a difficult battle. Though it was a humiliating victory, it was a victory nonetheless.

I, Chen Jiuliu, a humble Party B, successfully forced Client A to modify a requirement. Even though it was only changing the UI (presentation) and not the underlying architecture, it was a landmark triumph!

Embracing this spiritual victory in the manner of Ah Q, I fell into a deep sleep. In my dream, I held a three-hundred-page requirements document, pointing a finger at Arnold’s nose and furiously denouncing his despicable behavior of pretending not to understand human language.

The next day, I wasn’t woken up by my internal clock or hunger, but by the deafening noise of an electric screwdriver.

I opened my eyes to find two robots in my luxurious prison, violently dismantling a wall. Startled, my sleepy, foggy brain shot up from the bed. I grabbed the thermos from the nightstand and adopted an aggressive stance toward them. “What are you doing? What’s going on? You’re doing construction without notifying the owner? Do you even want to keep your jobs?”

One of the robots turned to me, its electronic eyes blinking. A tray smoothly extended from its chest, holding a tablet and a stylus.

“Your Excellency Chen Jiuliu, based on your request for ‘optimized user experience,’ the Marshal requests you complete the Survey Questionnaire on Ideal Living Environment Requirements.”

Me: “…”

Good heavens. Arnold’s execution ability was the dream client I yearned for in my past life. Raise a requirement yesterday, start the project today, going live tomorrow, is that it?

I suspiciously took the tablet. It was indeed a form titled Customization Requirements Form for Male Lord Living Space. The questions weren’t complex, but there were many, covering every minute detail.

What is your preferred main color for the room? I wrote: Any color other than spirulina green.

What hardness of mattress are you accustomed to? I wrote: A hardness that can support my fragile lumbar discs.

What indoor equipment do you require?… Well, there’s a lot.

Out of habit, I quickly listed: ergonomic chair, adjustable desk, dual-monitor display, mechanical keyboard…

Mid-sentence, I stopped. It seemed I had been conditioned by the capitalists of my previous life, retaining these workhorse habits. What would I do with all that now?

…Code in here?

I quickly scratched out the long list, leaving only “A comfortable chair and a large table.”

The last question was: Please describe your favorite window view from memory.

Window view?

My pen tip hovered over the screen. I froze.

The window view in my memory… was the one I saw after waking up from sleeping on a portable folding bed in my big tech company office! The noisy road below was perpetually noisy, and delivery scooters zipped relentlessly. The sky was always a hazy gray.

What was there to like about that?

My thoughts drifted far away, further back, recalling the window of my long-forgotten university dorm and the view outside. Finally, half-truth and half-wishful thinking, I wrote on the form:

I am leaning against a narrow window, stained with water streaks and dirt. Outside is a shady campus path. I can look up and see the blue sky and white clouds, and sometimes the stars. It’s not too bustling, nor too desolate. Sometimes, when I think of it late at night while struggling through rush hour on the subway, it makes me feel like it’s genuinely good to be alive in this world.

After writing, my heart felt a little wistful. I handed the tablet back to the robot, wondering blankly, I wrote something so abstract, like a wish, could he actually make it appear?

The robot took the tablet and, along with its companion, silently continued working. I was invited to the bathroom to wash up and eat a breakfast that was still disguised spirulina but had evolved its appearance into “millet porridge and fried dough sticks.”

When I emerged from the bathroom, I stopped dead in my tracks. The room was the same, but it had completely transformed.

My luxurious prison VIP presidential suite had changed drastically. The off-white walls were replaced with a calm gray-blue, the floor was covered with a soft dark rug, and the “comfortable chair” and “large table” I’d requested were all there.

But none of that was the main point.

The main point was that a full-length window had appeared before me.

Outside was an endless expanse of grassland, with several tall, unfamiliar trees standing quietly. In the sky, a massive, strange nebula flowed slowly, casting a dreamy, soft glow. In the distance, blurry lights suggested a city skyline, warm and not glaring.

It was exactly as I had written.

No, it was more beautiful and serene than I could have imagined.

I was utterly captivated, walking closer step by step. I stretched out my hand, my palm gently pressing against the glass. The chilling touch confirmed its terrifying reality.

I was lost in the view, completely forgetting time and my predicament. Like an inland child seeing the ocean for the first time, I greedily took in everything outside the window. Only one thought filled my mind:

…Awesome!

Just then, the familiar sound of military boots echoed behind me.

My heart tightened. I spun around and saw Arnold.

He still had that cold demeanor, standing at the doorway, his gaze sweeping past me and landing on the floor-to-ceiling window, seemingly evaluating the performance of this new product.

“How is the user experience?” he asked, his tone flat, revealing no emotion.

I opened my mouth, momentarily speechless. Should I say “thank you”? Too subservient. “It’s alright”? That would sound ungrateful.

My mind raced. Ultimately, my damnable office worker instinct won out.

“Well, this version’s iteration is highly successful,” I cleared my throat, forcing myself into Product Manager mode. “It resolves the user’s core pain point and greatly enhances user engagement and happiness. It is, undoubtedly, a landmark update. Marshal, I deeply admire your project management capability.”

“…” Arnold looked at me, an extremely complex emotion flickering in his eyes before he quickly suppressed it.

My confidential husband certainly has a lot of micro-expressions. I held my thermos, patted his shoulder, and put on a businesslike facade. “Don’t worry, Marshal, I understand. Thank you for your investment. For the smooth progression of the project, I will strive to maintain a cheerful mind and body, ensuring my ‘output’ meets the client’s highest standards.”

He didn’t reply, just stood beside me. We stood side-by-side, looking out the window in silence. The atmosphere was slightly awkward.

I picked up my stainless steel thermos, unscrewed it, and took a sip of the warm goji water.

Just as we stood there without a word, the door hissed open again.

Standing at the entrance was a Female Insect. He was taller than the two white coats, wearing a tank top training uniform. His tight-fitting clothes strained against his muscular physique, and his face was completely devoid of expression, like a moving granite rock.

“Good day, Marshal.”

He greeted Arnold first, then turned to me. “Your Excellency Chen Jiuliu.” The granite voice was as cold and hard as granite. “By the Marshal’s order, starting today, I will be responsible for your physical rehabilitation training. Please follow me.”

Physical… training?

The small flame of sentimentality that had just sparked in my mind, fueled by the window, was instantly extinguished, doused head-to-toe by a bucket of ice water. “Pfft,” it went out completely.

“Wait a minute,” I struggled, gesturing toward the spot where the examination report had been, trying to communicate through implication. “My body… F-level, near crippled, your report said so! Going straight into training will kill me! This does not follow a scientific conditioning process!”

The granite man looked at me expressionlessly: “Rest assured, Your Excellency Chen Jiuliu. All your training programs have been precisely calculated by the medical team, designed to maximize your potential while ensuring your life safety.”

I understood. His meaning was: If it doesn’t kill you, it’s not hard enough.

Looking at my brand new, cozy, floor-to-ceiling-windowed bedroom, then at the malevolent figure at the door, I was overwhelmed with grief and fury.

Arnold, you damned capitalist! Playing the ‘carrot and stick’ game so smoothly! You upgraded my room to a VIP suite just so I’d have the energy to participate in a boot camp, didn’t you?!

Any good feeling I had just accrued instantly reset to zero, even plunging into the negative!

Before I could come up with my next set of project management arguments to stall for time, the granite man had already walked over and made a “follow me” gesture. His posture clearly stated: Walk yourself, or I will carry you. Choose one.

I shot a look of tragic defiance at Arnold, tightened my grip on my thermos, and finally gave up resisting. Shoulders slumped and head down, I dejectedly followed him out.