When the Villainous Boss Acts as the Protagonist (Quick Transmigration) - Chapter 35

[Host, are you being this flirtatious with the villain just because he looks like Alex?]

After Chu Sicheng hung up the phone, the system couldn’t help but ask out of curiosity.

Chu Sicheng raised an eyebrow imperceptibly. “Why do you say that?”

[Because…] The system couldn’t quite put its finger on it. It just felt that its host’s attitude toward Li Yanzhe versus Shen Ci was worlds apart. Coupled with the fact that Shen Ci’s eyes and brows were indeed similar to Alex’s, it naturally fell into the typical “stand-in” logic often found in scumbag CEO novels.

However, even though the system thought this, it didn’t dare say it so directly to Chu Sicheng. After stammering “because” for a while, it only managed:

[I just feel like you’re quite close to Shen Ci.]

“Then who else should I be close to?” Chu Sicheng countered indifferently.

“Those parasitic family members bleeding the protagonist dry? The patronizing Li Yanzhe? Or that bug of a White Moonlight dedicated to making the protagonist’s life miserable?”

Chu Sicheng wanted to ask: in this world, is there anyone truly good to the protagonist, anyone actually worth being close to? Compared to them, hasn’t Shen Ci done enough?

On the first night, after recognizing his identity, Shen Ci didn’t hand him over to Li Yanzhe. Instead, he thoughtfully gave up this presidential suite to provide him a temporary sanctuary. Afterward, he was a man of few words but swift action, remitting one million to the hospital to solve Mother Song’s medical crisis. Seeing Song Le’an’s battered, nearly-exploding phone, he sent a custom-made replacement and renewed the room fee.

Even if he did these things with an ulterior motive, at least he actually did something practical. He wasn’t like that wheelchair-bound CEO who opened his mouth to threaten and closed it to suppress.

Li Yanzhe had been with Song Le’an for three years. Chu Sicheng didn’t believe for a second that Li Yanzhe had never noticed Song Le’an’s broken phone. He simply didn’t care. He didn’t care what Song Le’an wore or what phone he used; he only wanted the boy to appear when needed and provide enough emotional value. Essentially, he was no different from the Song family who only wanted Song Le’an for his money.

In the end, everyone was just trading interests.

To Chu Sicheng, this was just a job. Who gives their boss a pleasant face while working? Especially since he had already resigned, he couldn’t be bothered to entertain the man.

The system seemed to understand a little, yet understood nothing at all. [So, Host doesn’t care about the villain looking like Alex? It’s just because his actions are more to your liking?]

“…”

His fingertips moved slightly. Chu Sicheng packed the ointments back into the small black bag and lay back on the large bed. Staring at the crystal chandelier refracting rainbow light in the sun, he said softly:

“Think whatever you want to think.”

Chu Sicheng didn’t like baring his heart to others, especially regarding himself. Besides, he truly didn’t care much about looks. In just one world, similar faces could appear more than once, let alone across thousands of worlds. To him, appearance was secondary; he valued the soul hidden beneath the exterior.

He was actually curious why “he” appeared in this world. Was it a fellow task-taker he happened to encounter twice? Or simply a fixed villain NPC trapped in these worlds? Or—thinking a bit more narcissistically—was he following him?

Chu Sicheng blinked, suddenly feeling an impulse to jump into the next mission world. Unfortunately, the Administration didn’t provide a “skip” button. To move on, he had to finish the current task honestly.

He swiped through the mission panel, saw the pathetic 20% Halo progress bar, and instantly reined in his fantasies. He returned to reality and began toying with his phone.

[Host, what are you doing?] the system asked, seeing his serious expression.

“Speeding up the mission progress,” Chu Sicheng replied without looking up. “Mainly, I’m nudging my partner.”

The “partner” was, of course, Shen Ci.

In their previous call, faced with the boy’s flirtatious invitation, Shen Ci hadn’t given a concrete answer, only a vague: “We’ll see based on my workload today.”

Shen Ci didn’t want to be too passive in this tug-of-war, so he gave an answer that required the boy to wait. He might go, or he might not. This way, the one whose emotions were tethered became the boy in the hotel, not the man waiting for a call.

However…

Shen Ci had looked over the documents on his desk several times, but he still couldn’t analyze the data clearly. Simple percentages transformed into the time displayed at the bottom right of his screen every time he tried to focus.

3:59 PM. One hour and one minute until the end of the workday.

Shen Ci thought that canceling his vacation might have been a mistake; his efficiency lately was indeed too low. Even for the sake of work, he needed to rest for a couple of days.

He took off his gold-rimmed glasses and picked up his phone. He intended to find a place to relax, but the moment he picked it up, a notification popped up at the top. The special tag was: Song.

His finger, poised to open a booking app, paused. Then, as if drawn by something, he tapped the notification. He thought the boy was restless because of his ambiguous answer and was messaging to demand a definite one. Or perhaps he was being proactive again, recommending himself. Or maybe a plea in a different persona…

In the few seconds it took to click, Shen Ci imagined many things the boy might have sent.

He was wrong.

He thought the boy would at least ask if he was coming tonight. Instead, the boy didn’t mention it at all. Chu Sicheng didn’t even send a single word; he just sent a photo.

It was a photo of him holding a tube of ointment.

The shot was very casual; the lens wasn’t even focused on his hand, instead capturing the crystal chandelier on the ceiling with perfect clarity. But this only made the blurred hand more intriguing. Pale skin, slender fingers, knuckles slightly pink under the soft focus, and that unmistakable silver tube gripped tightly between his fingertips.

One tube a day—five tubes for five days.

Shen Ci’s finger pressed a bit harder against the screen. Just then, with a ding-dong, another message arrived. Still no mention of whether he should come or not. It seemed like a simple explanation for the photo:

[The butler said Boss specifically had them prepare these.] [Guess what flavor this is?] [I just opened it to smell. It’s orange.]

One after another, Chu Sicheng ignored Shen Ci’s mental state entirely, solely commenting on the ointment in the photo. He seemed to have forgotten his bold invitation, acting like an innocent student full of flirtatious curiosity.

It was strange. In these messages, the boy didn’t mention using the ointment once, yet Shen Ci felt as if that citrus-scented, slick sensation was already on his own fingertips.

Biting his lower lip, Shen Ci typed back, unable to stop himself from participating in this monologue:

[You are fishing for me.]

It wasn’t a question. It was a blunt statement, telling the boy clearly that he saw through the little scheme behind the messages.

Chu Sicheng looked at the four words. He didn’t feel the slightest embarrassment at being exposed. Instead, he let out a low, pleasant laugh.

[Yes,] he replied. [So, are you hooked?]

Shen Ci was direct. Chu Sicheng was more direct.

Through the screen, Shen Ci could almost see the boy standing nakedly before him, a brilliant smile on his beautiful face, hidden with teasing malice. Even his demonic tail was wagging shamelessly, as if certain that even after seeing his “evil” side, Shen Ci wouldn’t choose to leave.

The boy had him pinned. In the business world, this was a bad omen for a merchant. This relationship was becoming dangerous for him.

Shen Ci thought this, yet his body moved away from the office chair that symbolized his work. It was 4:06 PM. Fifty-four minutes until the end of the day. But Shen Ci decided to give himself a short vacation.

So, are you hooked?

The black car sped down the road. Shen Ci toyed with his silent phone, a rare sense of interest rising in his dark eyes. Having received so many surprises from the boy, he couldn’t help but wonder what the next move would be.

What was the boy doing in the hotel right now? Lying on the bed waiting for him? Watching a movie to kill time? What would he be wearing when he opened the door? What calculated lines would he say? Would he still be playing this tug-of-war?

Shen Ci hadn’t encountered such uncertainty in a long time. His life was usually too smooth, bordering on boring, which was why he was unconsciously drawn to Chu Sicheng, the variable.

The red numbers above the elevator rose slowly from the ground floor. Shen Ci’s heartbeat quickened in sync. Finally, the silver-white doors slid open.

Then, to Shen Ci’s stunned gaze, the boy waiting at the elevator doors gave him an incredibly dazzling smile. He wasn’t holding any ointment, but Shen Ci seemed to smell that faint citrus scent anyway.

Was it an illusion?

As Shen Ci wondered, his thoughts were shattered again. His tie was gently tugged by slender fingers. Following Chu Sicheng’s lead, Shen Ci instinctively tilted his head, and in the next second, he felt a soft touch on his lips.

It was orange-flavored. A burst of sweetness entered his mouth.

He heard the boy say: “Boss, do you like this flavor?”

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