My Boss Transmigrated Into a Maid and I Became Gay - Chapter 6

Last night.

When bedtime rolled around, Lu Ying lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, not daring to close her eyes.

If I transmigrate back into that book again today…

She honestly didn’t know what she’d do. She had done everything she could—deleted the post, stopped the updates but if that didn’t stop the “dreams,” was she going to be haunted by this for the rest of her life? Was she destined to spend the next few decades searching for a maid-version of Jian Qin in her sleep? The thought was terrifying.

She managed to stay awake until 1:00 AM, but eventually, her eyelids became too heavy to fight. She succumbed to a deep, inevitable sleep.

When she opened her eyes, she was back on that soft, gargantuan bed.

Hearing the words, “Good morning, Miss. I am here to carry you out of bed,” Lu Ying felt like a death-row inmate who had finally seen the guillotine drop.

She had tried everything, and she had still transmigrated.

Maybe it was because the plot she’d already posted to Weibo hadn’t finished playing out yet…

With her heart as cold as ash, she let “President Jian” carry her out of bed and lead her to the bathroom. Following the usual routine, she kicked out the dozen “fanatic” maids who wanted to watch her use the toilet. Lu Ying sat down, closed her eyes, and let “President Jian” handle her morning wash.

Today, the “Young Mistress” NPC was clearly in a slump.

Jian Qin noticed the girl’s closed eyes and softened her touch even further. Once the rinsing with Alpine snow-melt was complete, it was time for the next plot point: the Outfit Change.

When “President Jian” pulled out a convoluted, blue-and-white lace gown, Lu Ying gasped.

No… seriously?!

If she remembered correctly, after breakfast, the heroine was supposed to go to school. If she wore this, people would think she was on her way to get married!

More importantly, there was no way she could get into this dress by herself. Lu Ying instinctively covered her chest, her face a mask of pure resistance.

Jian Qin saw the expression and understood: this was a “difficulty spike” from the NPC. She was used to tasks having a certain level of resistance by now. “Miss, is there a problem?” she asked softly.

Knowing she probably couldn’t refuse the exaggerated gown, Lu Ying tried anyway. “Can I not wear this? Do you have anything casual? Loose? Even a tracksuit would be fine.”

Jian Qin smiled professionally. “Miss, your outfits for this week were set by the Head Butler last week. They cannot be changed at will.”

Lu Ying made one last stand. “Can’t you just let me express myself for once?”

To finish the task and get back to reality as fast as possible, Jian Qin politely declined. “Miss, we only have twenty-five minutes until breakfast. We should hurry.”

How dare a mere novel character defy the Author’s command! Even with President Jian’s face, she’s being way too arrogant!

But a person under someone else’s roof has to bow their head. Lu Ying conceded in humiliation—until she saw “President Jian” pull a set of white lace… underwear from the closet.

Lu Ying: “…”

No. This is where I draw the line!!!

Jian Qin was also a bit at a loss. She wondered if it was truly necessary to help her change her undergarments. The voice in her head had said to help the Young Mistress dress, but it hadn’t explicitly said she had to do it all by hand.

While she was hesitating, Lu Ying snatched the items from her. “You—you—turn around!”

Jian Qin obeyed and turned her back.

Seeing her comply, Lu Ying let out a breath of relief. She was genuinely afraid the maid would insist on doing it manually. She couldn’t lose her dignity just because of a transmigration!

Still, she didn’t quite trust the situation. In a stroke of genius, she threw her discarded pajamas over “President Jian’s” head like a hood, then lightning-fast, changed into her undergarments.

“Don’t take that off until I’ve got the dress on,” Lu Ying ordered.

She scrambled into the gown, sliding her arms through net-lace sleeves and adjusting the various complicated straps to ensure nothing was exposed. Only then did she allow “President Jian” to remove the pajamas from her head.

The “Young Mistress” was now in her long gown, lacking only the back zipper and the corset laces. When Jian Qin regained her sight, she was met with the vision of a snowy-white back. Her gaze darkened slightly.

A faint, clean scent from the pajamas seemed to linger at the tip of her nose. It reminded Jian Qin of a night of overtime when Lu Ying had fallen asleep at her desk. Jian Qin had walked over to tell her to go home, but she’d found herself leaning in, quietly watching the girl sleep.

At that moment, she had smelled a scent that belonged only to Lu Ying. It was exactly like the scent she smelled now.

Could it really not be the same person?

Jian Qin’s heart hammered against her ribs. What the “Young Mistress” likely didn’t know was that when a person loses their sight, their other senses become hyper-alert. The scent, the rustle of fabric… everything was magnified.

Jian Qin took a deep breath, pushing the intrusive thoughts aside. The instructions for lacing the gown loaded into her mind, and she nimbly finished dressing the “Miss.”

Having successfully guarded her virtue, Lu Ying exhaled. At the same time, she felt certain this maid couldn’t be the real Jian Qin. There were no “system prompts” in this world; how could the real Jian Qin know exactly how to handle these servant tasks?

If she’s just an NPC, I can relax, she thought.

Because the heroine was “born beautiful” (per the setting), she didn’t need makeup. They headed straight to the next objective: the Dining Hall.

Lu Ying checked herself in the mirror before leaving. The dress was ridiculous, but… it was undeniably gorgeous. She felt like a literal fairy.

However, as she dragged her long train out of the bedroom, the “fairy” froze.

An endless corridor stretched before her, lined with bodyguards on both sides. There had to be at least a hundred of them. They were all in black suits. The row on the left wore sunglasses; their muscles were so massive they threatened to burst through their seams. The row on the right lacked sunglasses, and their faces were devastatingly handsome—no bulky muscles, just broad shoulders and narrow waists, looking like professional models.

Terrified, she dropped her skirt and grabbed “President Jian’s” arm. She only let go when the maid glanced at her.

Before she could recover from the shock, the lead “beefy” bodyguard barked, “One, two!”

Immediately, a hundred men shouted in unison: “GOOD! MORNING! MISS!“

The ones closest to her began winking, clearly trying to “exert their charm.”

Lu Ying: “…………”

She looked back at the bedroom door.

I want to go back. The 999-square-meter bed is much safer!

She hadn’t realized her brief mention of a “bodyguard detail” would manifest like this. It felt like she had accidentally walked into a host club. The worst part was the setting she’d given the heroine: a “Universal Magnet for the Opposite Sex.”

Every single one of these hundred men was in love with her.

Their voices seemed to echo in the hallway. Lu Ying was dying of embarrassment. She walked toward the dining hall with a stiff body, trying her best to ignore the waves of male pheromones being aggressively aimed at her.

The hallway was lined with luxury carpets and crystal chandeliers every ten paces. The light was layered and soft, not at all harsh.

Having eaten nothing since waking up, Lu Ying walked for at least half an hour through the mansion, dragging that heavy dress. She was hungry, and she was exhausted. Once the hunger hit, she didn’t want to take another step.

Jian Qin noticed her pace slowing and her eye color shifting to a “discontented” light blue. She stepped forward and took her hand. “Don’t worry, Miss. We’re almost there.”

Lu Ying glanced at her. Seeing “President Jian” smiling so warmly, her mood inexplicably lifted, and her eyes faded back to amber.

After another five minutes, they reached two massive doors. Four bodyguards stepped forward, two on each side, and heaved them open.

Golden light poured through the crack, growing more brilliant until the doors were fully open.

Inside the 30,000-square-meter dining hall, floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a breathtaking view of blue skies and green grass. The room was flooded with sunlight. In the center sat a long table—roughly 200 meters long which somehow managed to look small in the context of the room.

Lu Ying looked at the seats, which were spaced dozens of meters apart. “…”

When I wrote this, did I assume this family was allergic to each other?

Having a meal here without a walkie-talkie for every person was a crime. She probably needed binoculars too, given her nearsightedness. She almost laughed imagining them eating while using radios. Beside her, “President Jian” pulled an earpiece from her pocket and gently fitted it onto her. “Miss, you may take your seat and converse with the Young Masters.”

Lu Ying: “…”

It actually exists!!

She hadn’t written that detail; perhaps the world had naturally generated it to solve the logistical nightmare of a 200-meter table.

The doors closed. Lu Ying sat where “President Jian” indicated and flashed a standard “corporate slave” smile at her family members, who were miles away.

Seated around the table were her four exaggeratedly handsome brothers and her supposedly young and beautiful parents. Unfortunately, she couldn’t see their faces.

Drawing from every Mary Sue trope in existence: the Eldest Brother was the Melancholy Artist; the Second was the Gentle Playboy Prince; the Third was the Overbearing Ice King; and the Fourth was the Cheerful Sunny Boy. Their common trait? They were all obsessed with their sister.

The moment she sat down, the greetings began. The Eldest Brother recited a soulful Tagore poem and asked for her thoughts. The Second Brother blew her a “morning kiss” from fifty meters away and demanded she “catch” it. The Third Brother announced he would personally escort her to her car for school. The Fourth Brother invited her to lunch.

Lu Ying watched them with a deadpan expression, humoring them one by one. They were all acting so close, but she couldn’t even tell what they looked like!

Once the final family member arrived, the Father at the head of the table signaled the butler. With a clap of his hands, hidden side doors opened, and a line of servants carrying trays filed in.

Wagyu beef, foie gras, salads, toasted bread, dessert bowls… Lu Ying looked at the exquisite food and felt relieved. At least I didn’t write her as a fairy who only eats flower petals.

A voice rang through the earpiece: “Master, Mistress, Young Masters, Young Lady—lunch is served.” Lu Ying completely forgot about the plot and reached for a piece of toast. She hadn’t been that hungry, but seeing this much food made her feel like she hadn’t eaten in three days.

Transmigration isn’t all bad!

She spread some orange-cream cheese on the crispy toast. Just as she was about to take a bite, she remembered the maid and looked over. She hadn’t written where the maid ate, but she remembered the ending of the chapter involved giving the maid half of her food.

Since this was a “spite” novel, the condition for the maid getting food was that she had to list ten of the heroine’s virtues. Only then would she be granted breakfast.

Recalling the lines she’d written for the maid’s response, Lu Ying felt a wave of shame.

What was in my brain when I wrote this?

Can I skip this part?

But what if this is the trigger to end the transmigration?

The butler’s deep, resonant voice was still reciting English poetry in her ear. She couldn’t understand a word of it, so she clicked off the earpiece and steeled her nerves.

Recalling the plot, she said to “President Jian,” “You… list ten of my virtues, and I will permit you to share my breakfast.”

At that exact moment, Jian Qin heard the prompted lines in her head and narrowed her eyes. Once the voice vanished, she followed the script, offering an elegant, graceful smile.

“For a person as flawless as you, how could ten virtues possibly be enough? If it is your wish, I am willing to speak of them until tomorrow morning.”

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