MG CH1

It had only been early spring for a short while, yet an unusual downpour arrived, accompanied by the patter of rain and faint spring thunder.

Yan Zishu, the executive assistant, drove his boss, Fu Weishan, to the headquarters of Yinghan Group as usual.

As the helmsman of Yinghan Group, Fu Weishan was young, wealthy, handsome, and aloof, fitting the archetype of any romance novel’s leading man.

Yan Zishu, on the other hand, was always meticulous and dutiful, serving as Fu Weishan’s indispensable right-hand man, precise as a robot.

They entered the elevator directly from the underground parking garage, fortunate to avoid getting wet, their clothes still crisp and pristine.

But perhaps the unusual weather foreshadowed something out of the ordinary. When the elevator doors opened on the first floor, a young boy, half-soaked from the rain, ignored the glaring “VIP Only” sign above and clumsily barged in.

The elevator guide, who should have stopped him, was nowhere to be seen.

The boy seemed unaware that the VIP elevator was reserved for company executives and clients. Nor did he question why, during the peak morning rush, the other elevators were packed with employees while this one held only two people.

It wasn’t unheard of for an employee to mistakenly board the wrong elevator and ride with the boss—it happened from time to time.

But the boy’s umbrella was still dripping wet, quickly forming an awkward puddle on the marble floor.

The water even spread to the feet of the other two, coming dangerously close to Fu Weishan’s expensive leather shoes.

Yan Zishu spoke up, “There’s an umbrella sleeve machine at the entrance. Next time, please cover your umbrella before entering.”

Only then did the boy realize the situation he’d caused and the trouble he’d brought to others. A flush crept across his innocent face. “I’m so sorry! I-I didn’t mean to… Oh, I’ll put it away right now!”

Fu Weishan, with his lofty demeanor, paid little attention to this minor figure, but Yan Zishu spoke again.

“Are you a new intern?”

“Y-Yes, that’s right.”

“What’s your name?”

“Ji Chen.”

Yinghan had recently opened a batch of internship positions for second- and third-year university students. With generous compensation, the competition was fierce, and this boy was likely one of the successful candidates.

Ji Chen was very young, his demeanor and actions still those of a college student. He wore a suit from a campus store, the kind that cost a few hundred yuan and never quite fit perfectly. But in terms of appearance, he was undeniably striking.

Yes, striking. Almond-shaped eyes wide open, a sharp jawline, fair and delicate skin, prone to blushing—a picture of innocent charm, like a naive little rabbit.

This was his capital, allowing him to act recklessly without being blamed.

Ji Chen glanced at the other two in the elevator.

Both were dressed in impeccable suits, broad-shouldered, long-legged, with proportions fit for a runway model.

One had a stern face, sharp brows, and piercing eyes, exuding the commanding aura of a leader. The other was more reserved, his refined elegance hidden behind thin silver-framed glasses, understated yet distinguished.

Under the weight of their imposing presence, Ji Chen’s face flushed even deeper.

He fumbled to fold his umbrella, only to accidentally fling a string of water droplets, splashing Yan Zishu.

The damage wasn’t significant, but it wasn’t exactly pleasant.

Yan Zishu remained composed, maintaining his impeccable manners as if he hadn’t noticed.

But in truth, from the moment he saw Ji Chen, he hadn’t missed a single detail.

Careless, reckless, clumsy, always causing trouble for others, yet pure-hearted and kind—this was undoubtedly the archetype of a story’s protagonist.

It was hard to imagine that Yan Zishu would ultimately lose his life because of this boy.

But that was the predetermined plot, laid out clearly and unmistakably.

Yan Zishu was acutely aware that he existed within the world of a novel.

Before transmigrating, Yan Zishu had been a senior executive assistant at a major listed company. Calm, composed, and dedicated, he was a notorious workaholic until he died prematurely from overwork. In the novel, the character he inhabited shared his name, profession, and personality, almost as if tailored to mirror him perfectly, even down to his appearance. Yet, this character was unmistakably a cannon fodder.

The author of this book was unknown, a case of Zhuangzi dreaming of a butterfly or the butterfly dreaming of Zhuangzi. In this story, Yan Zishu, the butterfly, foresaw his own fate.

The domineering CEO, Fu Weishan, would fall for the underdog intern, Ji Chen. Initially treating Ji Chen as a substitute for his lost love, Fu Weishan would gradually become hopelessly enamored, navigating heart-wrenching twists before winning Ji Chen’s heart. Their blissful romance would follow, needing no further elaboration.

The cannon fodder assistant, however, secretly in love with his boss, would scheme and manipulate, trying to suppress Ji Chen and claim Fu Weishan for himself. Ultimately, his plans would backfire, leading to ruin in both love and career, culminating in a tragic end. In the finale, moved by Ji Chen’s kindness, even the cannon fodder assistant would be redeemed, sacrificing his life to save Ji Chen and offering his heartfelt blessings to the couple before dying.

Yan Zishu wasn’t sure he could bring himself to die for two strangers, let alone bless them sincerely. But driven by the professionalism etched into his bones, since he’d been given a second chance at life, he resolved to follow the original character’s path and complete the plot before considering other options.

Besides, fate didn’t grant him much room to choose otherwise.

From the moment he transmigrated, Yan Zishu had tested whether he could defy the predetermined storyline. His conclusion: even if he acted against the original plot, the story would find another way to fulfill its course.

For instance, when Fu Weishan assigned him a task, no matter how Yan Zishu tried to sabotage it, the task would somehow succeed by chance. Or when he personally shredded Ji Chen’s resume, Ji Chen would coincidentally submit an electronic copy through the recruitment system, ensuring he’d still end up in the same elevator with Fu Weishan today—and splash Yan Zishu with water.

Perhaps because he was an outsider, Yan Zishu vaguely sensed that the closer a plot point was to the protagonists, the harder it was to alter, though not entirely immutable. A supporting character’s fate, however, wasn’t necessarily set in stone or beyond deception.

So be it.

Yan Zishu excelled at biding his time, lying low, and striking when the moment was right.

When the elevator reached their floor, Yan Zishu held the door open, letting Fu Weishan exit first, with Ji Chen trailing behind cluelessly. This floor housed only the meeting rooms and the CEO’s office, making it clear that Ji Chen was an intern assigned to the secretarial department under the CEO’s office.

As in the original plot, the gears of fate began to turn.

The three headed in the same direction, but Ji Chen veered into the secretarial office along the way. Through the glass wall, Ben, a male secretary, spotted Fu Weishan and Yan Zishu passing by. “Ji Chen, did you just come up with the CEO and Assistant Yan? Hey, put your umbrella over there! What’s wrong with you? Don’t you know to dry it first?”

Ji Chen, confused, replied, “What? Was that the CEO? I… I didn’t know. We just rode the elevator together.”

Ben exclaimed dramatically, “You mean you shared an elevator with Mr. Fu? My God, don’t you know that’s for executives only?”

Ben loved speaking in exaggerated tones, often laced with sarcasm. Ji Chen, unused to such hostility, could only widen his eyes. “I didn’t know… But… they didn’t say anything…”

“Of course not! What, you expect Mr. Fu to personally tell you you’re in the wrong elevator? Even Assistant Yan doesn’t have time for that! And, judging by your state, you didn’t even greet them, did you? No way!”

Helen, the head of the secretarial department, strode over in her eight-centimeter heels and cut him off. “Are you all so free? Nothing to do?” Frowning at Ji Chen, she added, “You’re interning in the secretarial department. At the very least, you should know who the big boss is. Otherwise, who are you serving? I don’t want to hear this kind of joke again.”

Ji Chen’s head drooped nearly to the desk, a mix of embarrassment and grievance, his lips unconsciously pouting. This was mortifying—why hadn’t anyone told him these things beforehand?

As if reading his mind, Amy, a kind-hearted junior secretary, sent him recent company news from her computer, pointing at a photo. “This is Mr. Fu Weishan, the CEO. Memorize his face so you don’t make a fool of yourself next time.”

Ji Chen nodded eagerly.

Amy pointed to another figure. “And this is his assistant, Yan Zishu. In the company, Assistant Yan’s words carry the same weight as Mr. Fu’s. If it’s a minor issue you don’t want to bother Mr. Fu with, you can go to Assistant Yan. So remember him too.”

She smiled. “Of course, with their looks, it’s hard to forget them after one glance, right?”

Indeed.

Ji Chen recalled Fu Weishan and Yan Zishu’s commanding presence, realizing that a poor student like him could never hope to reach their level. He thought dazedly, So that’s what elite charisma looks like…

CEO’s Office

Yan Zishu placed a cup of coffee by Fu Weishan’s hand.

An espresso, rich in aroma, perfectly meeting Fu Weishan’s exacting standards, with a fine, golden crema on the surface—a mark of skilled brewing, as connoisseurs would note.

Such trivial tasks could have been left to a secretary. As the CEO’s assistant, Yan Zishu’s role was to aid in decision-making, issue orders on Fu Weishan’s behalf, and sign documents—not to play personal caretaker. But in reality, Fu Weishan relied on him for everything, big and small, finding it natural.

After all, in the novel, Yan Zishu was an orphan raised by the Fu family, while Fu Weishan was the young patriarch. It seemed Yan Zishu’s purpose was to serve Fu Weishan in every aspect of work and life.

“For this spring auction, a batch of works from the Hong Kong avant-garde art exhibition will be sent over. Young Master Fu is familiar with that scene and recently returned to Dongcheng, so he’s offered to get involved…”

“Hmph, if he wants to meddle, let’s see if he’s got the ability,” Fu Weishan sneered, like a lion guarding his territory.

Yan Zishu, ever professional, awaited instructions without commenting on their family’s internal power struggles. He knew full well that this “Young Master Fu” was the novel’s antagonist.

“Let him join if he wants. It’s just an auction. A mere clown,” Fu Weishan said dismissively.

“Understood,” Yan Zishu replied, closing his folder.

As he stepped out of the CEO’s office, Helen approached, signaling with her eyes. “Assistant Yan, he’s here… What do we do?”

She subtly gestured toward the guest area. Her cryptic tone clearly referred to Fu Weishan’s “clown.”

Speak of the devil, and he appears.

Before Yan Zishu could respond, Young Master Fu Jinchi appeared behind her, chuckling softly. “I’m a Fu, after all. Do you need to act so wary when I visit my own family’s turf? What, am I going to storm in and do something to your CEO?”

Helen nearly jumped, flustered.

But Yan Zishu remained calm. He’d seen Fu Jinchi approaching but hadn’t had time to warn her.

“You misunderstand, Mr. Fu,” Yan Zishu said, nodding to Fu Jinchi. “Are you here to see Mr. Fu? I’ll inform him. He’s free now.”

“Thank you,” Fu Jinchi smiled, handing over a business card. Then he added, “I heard Weishan’s assistant was a rare beauty. Seeing you today, the rumors don’t disappoint. Ever thought of jumping ship to work for me?”