The Byoukidere Is Her Sweetie-Chapter 61 - : 061: This pair is full of passion, huh

Chapter 61: 061: This pair is full of passion, huh

Back on the film set, the sole heir of the fourth generation, Fang Lixiang, was quite shocked by the “affair” scandal. So, during her break, she squatted in a corner to play a game to calm her nerves.

And the result?

Calming her nerves, my ass—she was about to explode with rage.

“Hide behind me.”

“Move your ass!”

“Holy crap, can’t you throw your grenades more accurately? You almost blew me up.”

“Why do I always bump into such noobs day after day?”

Yes, the champion Chicken King player that she was, she once again encountered teammates who were so bronze they couldn’t be carried. That would have been fine, except noobs love to throw grenades, especially at her.

Several close calls nearly ended her.

“Ancestor, can you please hide? I get chills down my spine just from you following me,” she muttered, fearing a clumsy teammate might accidentally send her to heaven.

As she was gripped with fear—

“Fang Lixiang.”

Wearing headphones, Fang Lixiang couldn’t hear clearly. It took her a while to turn around, then she made a foolish face: “B-, Boss?”

There stood her ultimate boss—Boss Xue!

It was horrifying. She shivered, lost her balance, and landed on her butt. Her hand trembled, she didn’t aim her M249 properly, and the enemy blew her head off with a shot. On the game screen, ‘I’m Your Ancestor’ lay dead.

Game over!

Boss Xue glanced at her phone screen and, rather than getting angry, chuckled: “The company didn’t invest in you to play games.”

To Fang Lixiang, that laugh felt like the chill of death.

She hastily removed her headphones and scrambled to her feet with agile limbs, showing her utmost loyalty: “I’ll uninstall the game right now.” Because if she failed to appease the big boss, she could kiss her career goodbye.

The big boss let out a barely perceptible snort through her nose.

Fang Lixiang shivered uncontrollably, thinking, surely the big boss isn’t contemplating eradicating a witness, right? Good Lord, she’s a sole heir!

Seriously, how scared could she look?

Boss Xue saw she was scared out of her wits and decided not to frighten her further, adopting the demeanor she usually displayed as a big CEO: “Act well and cut down on the gaming.”

The nodding, groveling, meek person replied: “Yes—”

Boss Xue glanced over with her noble eyes and then shifted her esteemed footing.

Fang Lixiang transformed into a lackey, bowing deeply: “Farewell, Boss.”

She had just managed a three-step send-off—

Boss Xue turned back: “And another thing,” her tone suddenly turned fierce, “curse less at the noobs!”

Fang Xiaodi: “?!”

Why was the boss mad? She hadn’t called her a noob.

After watching the boss leave, Fang Lixiang decided to play another round to calm her nerves and soothe her frightened little heart.

Uninstall the game?

Hah, she’d never uninstall it in her lifetime.

Boss Xue’s secretary, Xiao Zhuang, was a little plump, at five-foot-three and weighing 170 pounds, he waddled like a rolling ball. His only saving grace was his good skin, plump with collagen, resembling an inflated boiled egg—quite distinctive, really.

Xiao Zhuang had just received a call from the company president’s office, instructing him to notify the boss of a meeting.

The boss started a game as soon as he got into his car, and off he went without saying where.

“Mr. Xue.”

Boss Xue wasn’t having any of it.

Xiao Zhuang poked his round, cheerful head from the front seat to the back: “Mr. Xue.”

Boss Xue was getting annoyed: “I’m playing a game; don’t bother me.”

Damn it, hardly ten minutes since he told her to focus on acting and there she was caught in PUBG.

Xiao Zhuang didn’t dare to push further and secretly took out his phone to play Miracle Nuan Nuan.

The car was parked in the quiet basement garage. Boss Xue didn’t have his headphones plugged in, so the game’s sounds were crystal clear, including the cursing of teammates.

“Not you again, you noob! I must be cursed with bad luck!”

Boss Xue was so mad he turned purple: “…”

I’m Your Ancestor.

That name… he remembered it well, even adding it as a game friend for the sole purpose of arguments.

Undoubtedly, in that round, Fang Lixiang once again perished at the hands of her nemesis. How she kept getting blasted away by the same stunning “Handsome” in PUBG was truly a cursed fate.

That evening, two pieces of news sent shockwaves through the entertainment world.

The first was about the genius director, Jiang Wei’er, acting as a special model for an eighteenth-tier hair salon. The hairstyle she sported gained popularity as soon as it was introduced.

The second was the scandal involving Huayu’s vice president Jin Song, who maintained inappropriate relationships with several artists under the label.

At seven in the evening, the Fairy Descending salon was swamped with people.

The owner and chief hairstylist Cheng Xin was as busy as a dog, still hadn’t managed to eat dinner, and the customers kept coming non-stop—not all for hairdo’s but for photos too. The poster by the door was rushed and printed without any retouching, but it’s all good because Jiang Wei’er’s face was resilient to any bad shot—just stick her face on anything and it becomes a money magnet. Thanks to the blessing of the Wealth God, Fairy Descending made it onto the Hot Search list again.

“What color should we dye?”

“The Jiang Wei’er style?”

“Xiao Chuan, do we still have the misty blue dye?”

“No more.”

“Can’t change to a different color?”

“No need to change, just go to the front desk and queue up for an appointment.”

This is the celebrity effect.

At 8 o’clock in the evening, Fusheng Inn was a dazzle of paper and gold.

Behind the screen, geishas were playing the pipa, the food on the table was barely touched, and wine cups were filled one after another.

The door pushed open, and the arrival was hurried.

Jin Song raised his hand, and the serving woman pouring the drink put down the cup, exiting the room along with the music-playing geishas.

“President Jin.”

Jin Song took a sip of baijiu, slightly tipsy, “What did he say?”

The secretary stepped forward and said, “The Chairman said you don’t need to go to Huayu for now, and Tang Heng’s financing project is also on hold.”

Jin Song swirled the drink in his cup and laughed, “What a clever scheme to kill with a borrowed knife.”

The secretary was silent as if chilled to the bone.

Clang—

A table of banquet was flipped over entirely, and Jin Song stood up, walking to the old wooden sofa, “Is your contract almost up?”

Someone else was in the room.

He replied, “Twenty-three days left.”

“Want to get that video back?”

It was then that the person on the sofa looked up.

Jin Song leaned over, placing his hand on his shoulder, “Help me with one last thing, and once it’s done, I’ll destroy all that stuff.”

Xiao Linsu started his career as a singer and had been with Huayu for ten years, from eighteen to twenty-eight years old.

“What do you want me to do?”

The hand resting on his shoulder slowly moved from his neck to his chest, teasing subtly.

“No rush, we’ll talk it through slowly.”

Click.

The metallic sound of a belt buckle was piercing, and Jin Song laughed as he pulled out the long, slender belt from his waist.

When Xiao Linsu came out again, it was an hour later, limping slowly.

Lin Shuang had just arrived and was stunned for a moment before running up to him.

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“Linsu—”

She hadn’t touched him when she was pushed away, “Get lost.”

He was wearing a mask, clothes unscathed, but he couldn’t straighten up, bent at the waist.

Lin Shuang’s eyes were already red, “Can you get your wounds treated first?”

He looked up, sweat rolling down, “I told you to get lost.”

Lin Shuang’s outstretched hand froze, ultimately not daring to support him.

The phone rang.

Xiao Linsu leaned against the wall, staring at the screen for a long time before answering.

“Wei’er.”

His voice was very low, with a faint echo in the empty hallway.

“I’ll be back the day after tomorrow.”

The harsh winter had arrived, ice pellets fell in the evening, a prelude to heavy snow.

The wind blew the leaves, howling in the cold outside, too cold—Jiang Wei’er stood under a tree, wrapped in a thick down jacket, talking on the phone for a long time.

An old voice called her ‘Fifth Miss.’

“Old Madam is calling for you inside.”

The messenger was Gui Family, who had served by Old Lady Jiang’s side before she was married. After becoming a widow, Gui Family stayed with Old Lady Jiang in the Jiang Mansion.

“I’ll call you back later,” Jiang Wei’er ended the call, heading inside, “Has Brother Zhi arrived yet?”

Gui Family followed with an umbrella, replying from behind, “Not yet. The icy pellets on the road made it slippery and inconvenient; he’ll be late.”

Jiang Wei’er entered the house.

Old Madam sat in the place of honor facing south, the eldest son of the big room sat facing east, the second son of the second room sat facing west, and then the grandsons were seated facing north in order. The cadets and those born out of the main line stood.

The Jiang Family was always strict with their ranking of seniority.

Jiang Xiaolin and Jiang Fuli each called out ‘Fifth Aunt,’ standing obediently, waiting for Jiang Wei’er to take her seat. She was the most informal one, pulling up a chair directly next to Jiang Weikai, the eldest son of the Jiang family.

Old Madam said nothing, and naturally, no one else dared to speak.

“Auntie,”

It was Jiang Fuxi from the fourth branch; she brought over tea, “I wasn’t sure if your tastes had changed, so Sister Xi took the liberty to brew some Huangshan Maofeng for you.”

Of all the Jiang family, the one most skilled at observing others’ moods was Sister Xi from the fourth branch. Taking her mother’s surname, she had lived cautiously and prudently within the Jiang family for a long time, always acting carefully and steadily.

Jiang Wei’er accepted the teacup; it was just the right temperature and didn’t burn the hand, “Thank you for the tea, Sister Xi.”

Jiang Fuxi smiled and returned to stand beside Old Madam.