LABMY CH144

At the banquet, the director glanced left, then right, finding the atmosphere extremely strange.

Pei Yao sat stiffly in the corner, arms crossed, his whole demeanor radiating resistance to conversation. His bodyguard sat beside him, looking like he had something to say but didn’t dare to.

The director also felt hesitant. He wanted Pei Yao to be more tactful, but he was sitting too far away to discreetly nudge him.

However, there was something he had to say.

With a stern expression, the director said, “Pei Yao, the president of Obsidian personally asked to see you. How can you let your bodyguard sit here?”

He turned to the clueless bodyguard, “You—your surname is Jian, right? Just go stand at the door.”

Then, forcing a smile, he awkwardly turned to Assistant Li beside him, “Assistant Li, please don’t be upset. Pei Yao is still young and doesn’t quite understand the rules.”

“By the way, when will your president be arriving?”

Assistant Li cleared his throat, stood up, and said, “He’s already here. Let’s go.”

“Huh?” The director was utterly confused as he was led out of the private room. “Are we going to escort the president inside?”

Assistant Li repeated, “He’s already here.”

Still completely baffled, the director followed Assistant Li to the main entrance—only to watch him say goodbye, get into his car, and drive off without hesitation.

Standing at the entrance, with passersby casting curious glances his way, the director grew increasingly uneasy.

What did he mean, ‘already here’?

There was no one else in that room except Pei Yao and that bodyguard.

No way.

It couldn’t be… right?

He turned to look at the grand, opulent restaurant lobby, then glanced at the departing car in the distance.

A realization dawned on him, leaving him in complete turmoil.

When he first received Obsidian’s investment offer, he had heard from the director of Youth Aspirations hat this investor had a penchant for adding arrogant, Long Aotian, “protagonist halo” lines.

At the time, he had thought, So what if a big investor has a little hobby?

But now…

This wasn’t just a little hobby.

This investor was a full-fledged hardcore protagonist-plot enthusiast!

How was this any different from those cliché stories where the supposedly useless son-in-law turns out to be the strongest dragon king?!

A bodyguard who is actually the wealthy and powerful CEO of an investment company, returning in full force after being mocked?

Should he be grateful that he hadn’t gone all out reprimanding the “bodyguard” and then ended up kneeling on the floor, begging for forgiveness in a humiliating slap-to-the-face scene?

Wait—wasn’t he already getting slapped in the face right now?!

With a complicated expression, the director turned back to glance at the private room one last time before silently getting into his car and driving away.

That level of flexing… The president of Obsidian had nailed it.

—

Jian Yuanbai had no idea that, just because he had come to find his runaway wife after waking up alone, the director had already cooked up an entire scenario in his head that was light-years away from the truth.

Inside the private room, only the two of them remained.

Just as Jian Yuanbai was about to speak, Pei Yao said, “Explain.”

“What’s the deal with Obsidian?”

Jian Yuanbai answered honestly, “I made a few investments, got lucky, and ended up with a company.”

A rising powerhouse, admired by countless people, with assets beyond estimation—
And yet, he brushed it off with a simple “got lucky”?

Pei Yao felt irritated. “Don’t brush me off. Explain everything clearly.”

After not seeing his wife for two whole days—now, not only could he not hug or kiss him, but he was also being interrogated. Jian Yuanbai’s expression resembled a pitiful, wronged kitten. “But I already explained… It really was just luck.”

Pei Yao remained stern. “Then why did you make me say those lines in Chase Love, Brother!?”

Jian Yuanbai couldn’t just admit that it was because of a protagonist-style script challenge, so he simply said, “Wan Yuda mocked you so much—how could I just let that slide?”

Pei Yao looked at his indignant expression and fell silent.

Compared to his “pure and holy lotus” speech, which had already been meme’d to death across the internet, a few taunts from Wan Yuda really weren’t that hard to endure.

After a long pause, Pei Yao asked, “Then what about Youth Aspirations?”

Wait—he suddenly recalled something.

“Don’t tell me… just because Zhao Jie said a few things about me, you—”

Jian Yuanbai nodded matter-of-factly. “So I made sure that in the drama, he could only listen and take it.”

Pei Yao: “……”

“And what about Chu Caiyang and the others?”

Jian Yuanbai, relieved that he had dodged any further questioning, smoothly replied, “I know you’re shy, and saying those lines alone would make you feel awkward.”

“But if everyone says them, then the awkwardness won’t be on you anymore.”

Pei Yao recalled the twisted expressions on Chu Caiyang and the others when they saw the newly added lines. He wanted to gloat, but he was a victim himself.

For a moment, he didn’t know what kind of expression to make. “You…”

Jian Yuanbai leaned in and kissed Pei Yao on the cheek. “So? Considerate, right?”

Pei Yao expressionlessly pushed him away. “Considerate. So considerate.”

After a brief silence, Pei Yao asked, “That recording—was it you who found it?”

Jian Yuanbai nodded. “Wan Yuda is difficult to deal with in private. His assistant was already unhappy with him, so with a little money, it wasn’t hard to persuade him.”

Pei Yao pressed his lips together. After a moment of hesitation, he still asked, “You’re already the boss of an investment company. Why are you still staying by my side as a bodyguard?”

“You even let people look down on you.”

Jian Yuanbai was briefly stunned. Before he could speak, Pei Yao—perhaps out of nervousness—quickly added, “What? Did my question catch you off guard?”

“No.” Jian Yuanbai shook his head. “I just find it surprising that you would ask.”

He looked at Pei Yao and spoke with utmost seriousness. “Whether I’m the boss of an investment company or a bodyguard—”

“It’s simply because I want to protect you.”

This time, it was Pei Yao who was stunned.

Jian Yuanbai tentatively pulled him into an embrace. When he wasn’t pushed away, he sighed in relief, resting his chin against the crown of Pei Yao’s head, rubbing lightly. His voice was gentle.

“As your husband, protecting my wife is only natural.”

“That’s why I don’t want anyone mocking or bullying you.”

Although the system required those lines, Jian Yuanbai genuinely couldn’t stand seeing Pei Yao being ridiculed. His beautiful wife—who could be reduced to tearful sobs just from being handled a little roughly in bed—

So those tears should be reserved for the bedroom. As for the world’s injustices and darkness, Jian Yuanbai would clear the path for Pei Yao.

His thoughts, already somewhat wayward from being abandoned on their first night, started drifting further astray.

Especially when he saw the person in his arms—his exquisitely beautiful face tinged with red—the colors in his mind deepened.

Pei Yao’s ears and slender neck flushed completely red, equal parts embarrassed and annoyed. “What husband…”

He abruptly stood up, face still burning. “We’re leaving.”

The topic shift was too sudden, leaving Jian Yuanbai momentarily confused. “Leaving? Where to?”

Pei Yao: “Home.”

“This place is overpriced and the food is bad. Let’s buy groceries and cook ourselves.”

Jian Yuanbai got up to follow him. “But I’m terrible at cooking, wife.”

“I know,” Pei Yao paused, his voice soft, like sugar wrapped in fluff. “But I’m here too.”

He wanted to say that he was good at cooking, that he knew every cuisine, that he could cook for someone important for a lifetime without ever tiring of it.

But in the end, all he said was—

“I’m here too.”

—

When Youth Aspirations aired, it sparked an enormous discussion online.

• “I’m dying of laughter—Pei Yao is literally playing himself!”
• “What Pei Yao? Call him Pei Lotus instead.”
• “Hahahaha, Chu Caiyang, blink if you’re being held hostage!”
• “Chu Caiyang: I! Am the Sun! Hahahahahaha!”
• “Pei Lotus, Chu Sun—I’m laughing to death.”
• “The case is thrilling, but the protagonists’ lines are even more over-the-top.”
• “The arrogance in Young Heroes’ Ambition isn’t just sky-high—it’s practically transcendent!”
• “At first, I thought: Ugh, so cringe. What kind of dialogue is this? But now, I’m like: I need to see what absurd lines they’ll come up with next.”

No one had expected the show to become such a sensation. More and more people tuned in every day, and the ratings kept climbing.

And every night at eight, Jian Yuanbai would be there, waiting for the new episodes.

He had watched Pei Yao film every scene, but he still sat in front of the TV, eager for each night’s two-episode release.

In stark contrast, Pei Yao wanted nothing more than to escape.

Seeing himself on screen—dressed in ancient robes, exuding an overwhelming aura, dramatically declaring that one day, he would be unmatched in the world—

Pei Yao was mortified to the point of turning away.

But before he could take more than half a step, a hand caught his wrist, and he was pulled back into Jian Yuanbai’s embrace.

With his tall stature and long limbs, Jian Yuanbai effortlessly wrapped Pei Yao in his arms, resting his chin on his shoulder, occasionally turning his head to place kisses on Pei Yao’s already-red earlobe—deepening its shade further.

On the TV, the young man in flowing white robes, carefree and unrestrained, proclaimed, “The pinnacle of the martial world belongs to me alone!” before turning to leave.

Pei Yao, utterly mortified, half-covered his face.

Jian Yuanbai tilted his head, kissed him, and took his earlobe between his lips, lightly nibbling. His voice was muffled as he murmured, “Baby, your scenes are over now, right?”

The slight sting, the heat of Jian Yuanbai’s mouth—Pei Yao trembled slightly. He instinctively tried to free his tormented ear, turning his head away. “Don’t…”

Jian Yuanbai obligingly let go but followed the curve of Pei Yao’s ear, planting soft, lingering kisses along the way.

Pei Yao’s hand, which had been covering his face, twitched as if burned by the kisses, moving away in flustered haste—revealing a face flushed bright red.

“Don’t… The TV is still on…”

His eyelashes quivered as he endured Jian Yuanbai’s light but relentless kisses.

Jian Yuanbai kissed the corner of his lips, his gaze burning as he stared at Pei Yao.

Watching his trembling lashes. Watching his flushed lips. Watching his beautifully reddened face.

They had done this countless times, yet Pei Yao was still easily flustered—still easily embarrassed, his heartbeat unsteady, unable to meet Jian Yuanbai’s deep gaze.

His fair skin was tinged pink under Jian Yuanbai’s eyes, making him all the more mesmerizing.

The flickering TV light cast shifting shadows on the wall, but neither of them was paying attention anymore.

The air conditioning hummed diligently, yet the temperature in the room kept rising.

The sounds from the TV played on, but in the dim light, intertwined silhouettes flickered against the wall.

Occasionally, there was the faintest trace of a sound—soft, indistinct, barely audible.

—

Step by step, Pei Yao climbed to the pinnacle of the entertainment industry, sweeping up every major award.

The biggest hurdle he faced along the way? Someone maliciously exposing a scandal—claiming he was being “kept” by a wealthy sponsor.

By then, however, his and Jian Yuanbai’s marriage certificate had already been pinned to Weibo for years.

Cheating in Marriage, A Sponsor’s Support—Once This Was Exposed, It Didn’t Have the Intended Effect.

Perhaps because there had already been a past experience of being blacklisted by the entire internet, this time, both fans and onlookers were much more rational.

Instead of blindly believing the rumors and attacking recklessly, they waited under Pei Yao’s Weibo for an explanation.

It wasn’t until the official Weibo account of Obsidian Investment Company tagged and reposted a particular post that the matter truly exploded.

[Sweeping Away Sunspots]: “Woke up and found out my wife has become my sugar baby? What about my legitimate title?”

The attached photo was a side-profile selfie of Jian Yuanbai and Pei Yao.

This Weibo user had been absent for a long time, but their sudden appearance shocked everyone.

[Obsidian]: “Allow me to introduce: @Sweeping Away Sunspots, our president. @Pei Yao, the president’s legally registered ‘lover.’”

The internet erupted in heated discussions.

• “WTF!! Jian Yuanbai, you bastard!”
• “I’ve been fighting trolls online who said a bodyguard wasn’t worthy of a movie king, and now you tell me you’re a damn CEO?!”
• “Sweeping Away Sunspots is actually Jian Yuanbai?! Damn, you’ve been hiding so deep!”
• “So the one who initially cleared Lotus’ name was Jian Yuanbai… You love too much, Jian Yuanbai.”
• “What kind of ‘Long Aotian son-in-law’ drama is this? The bodyguard turning out to be a corporate president?!”
• “I always thought a bodyguard was clinging onto a big star, but turns out… the real clown was me.”
• “Jian Yuanbai, you sly dog, how long were you scheming to win over your wife?”
• “Where are the people who said he wasn’t worthy? Get out here! Our pure Lotus and his top-tier match are absolutely perfect—like a celestial pairing!”

As this nickname spread, Jian Yuanbai changed his Weibo name from [Sweeping Away Sunspots] to [Lotus Cultivation Diary].

Netizens jokingly called it “The Wife-Raising Diary.”

After Jian Yuanbai’s identity was fully revealed, netizens’ new daily entertainment became watching a CEO post about his wife on Weibo.

[Today, I carefully prepared a supposedly beginner-friendly dish—tomato and egg stir-fry. My wife forced me to eat two big bowls through tears.]

Netizens, remembering Jian Yuanbai’s infamous cooking skills on a show, laughed and commented, “Cook less, Jian Yuanbai! If you poison your wife, you won’t have a wife anymore.”

[For my wife’s birthday gift, I prepared an ultra-large screen projector. But there was a small misunderstanding during setup, so… Wife, I was wrong.]

Pei Yao’s most embarrassing moments ended up being looped on the giant screen for three whole days, trending on Weibo. Under that post, netizens gleefully mocked him.

[Took my wife on a trip. My wife is so beautiful.]

Netizens: “Your wife is fine, but in the next second, he’s mine.”

For the first time ever, Jian Yuanbai, who never replied to comments, actually responded: “Keep dreaming. My wife is mine alone.”

From then on, netizens discovered an incredibly effective baiting trick—any mention of Pei Yao being taken would instantly draw Jian Yuanbai out. It also made everyone realize just how possessive he was when it came to his wife.

Thus, with all their playful banter and teasing, the netizens ended up witnessing a love story that lasted twenty years.

They thought there would be another twenty years… and then another…

Until they saw Jian Yuanbai’s last Weibo post.

[Lotus Cultivation Diary]: “For the first time, I think my wife looks ugly when he sleeps with his eyes closed.”

“But it’s okay. I will still hold him while he sleeps.”

At first, netizens were confused—Was he getting divorced? Did he grow bolder?

Then, they saw the news reports.

Pei Yao had passed away.

He had fallen asleep and would never wake up again.

That was why Jian Yuanbai had said “he looks ugly sleeping with his eyes closed.”

It sounded like a casual complaint, but no one knew what kind of emotions he had when he typed those words.

Words were silent, but grief surged like a tidal wave.

In a place unseen by others, Pei Yao’s body was slowly fading.

A cold, mechanical voice echoed endlessly:

“World Completion Statistics: World One, 100%. World Two… World Six, 100%.”

“Preparing for program exit. 20%… 60%…”

“Warning! Warning! Warning! Exit coordinate error detected.”

The system, glowing golden all over, ignored the sharp alarms blaring in its code.

It had always known that no exit coordinates could be found.

Its very existence was meant to break through an exit.

After six worlds, the energy stored within it was finally enough to safely bring someone back.

A pair of golden wings flickered behind the system’s small cat-like form. The surging energy within it formed a golden, oval-shaped barrier, inside which a person sat, knees hugged to their chest, eyes closed in deep sleep.

The little golden cat took one last, longing look at the person inside.

The time tunnel was a raging torrent, and opening an exit required soul energy. Disintegration had always been its inevitable fate.

It had already merged halfway with the original system, making it no longer the same entity as its main body.

Once it dissipated, it would never return.

The relationship between them was no longer just system and program—it was more like family.

But the system felt no fear or hesitation.

It cared about its host far more than it cared about itself.

It was just… a little reluctant to part.

The system spoke to Jian Yuanbai, who had regained his memories:

“It’s time to go.”

“The six-world mission has ended, and my energy reserves are sufficient now.”

The swirling energy inside the barrier blurred their vision.

Inside, a person remained asleep, quiet and peaceful, as if lost in a beautiful dream.

Jian Yuanbai placed his hand on the barrier, eyes filled with warmth.

“Don’t be afraid, my love. We’re going home.”