"Han Qian, have you been sold off? Spending the entire night being doted on by a few wealthy women, served so well they even bought you a suit? Tsk tsk tsk, Gucci no less! Damn it, and you still had time to stroll through Glory Mall?"
Yan Qingqing grasped Han Qian's collar fiercely, roaring with rage. Nearby, little Yang Jia hesitated—going out felt wrong, staying felt wronger—her eyes wide with curiosity as she watched Han Qian and Madam Yan. She was the most gossip-prone soul in the entire company.
Han Qian lowered his head slightly to look at Yan Qingqing, only to be met with a brutal headbutt that struck his nose. Tears instantly welled and streamed down his face. Clutching his nose, he stumbled back, growling:
"Are you crazy? I'm late, you scolded me, and now you're hitting me?"
Scolding Madam Yan? Yang Jia stood stunned, while Yan Qingqing's face darkened like iron, teeth clenched as she spat:
"Han Qian, I'm done playing with you. I know you've been toying with me all along, just to retaliate for when I almost ran you over with my car. Today, I'll satisfy you—Yang Jia, call security and toss Han Qian out! I'm going to crush him."
The fierce Yasha Queen was merciless. Yang Jia dashed away, but Han Qian quickly called out:
"Yang Jia, come back!"
He then frowned and stared at Yan Qingqing.
"How am I toying with you? You want plans, I give you plans; you want solutions, I provide solutions. So why all this noise? Just give me two days—I can't even go out for some field research? Sitting at the office all day will inspire miracles? What, Glory is some kind of magic spring? If I don't have the skill, how could I stop your delicate porcelain act? This plan has to be kept secret; if it's copied, we lose our chance. And why did you go scolding Sister Yang in the admin office this morning? Just tell me—can you still cooperate? If not, I resign, and you bear the loss. If yes, then ensure profit and no loss."
"Hand over the plan."
"You want me to pry my head open with that wrench and show you?"
"Yang Jia, fetch the wrench."
Han Qian turned and ran without a shred of doubt that Yan Qingqing would dare to strike his head with a wrench. Without guts, she wouldn't have risen so young to this position. Yan Qingqing shot Yang Jia a glance; Yang Jia immediately shut the door tight and stood guard to block Han Qian.
Yan Qingqing settled into her boss chair, legs crossed, voice low:
"Make two cups of coffee."
"I don't drink coffee."
"Make tea, then hand out a two-hundred bonus to each member of admin, give it to Yang Lan—though she hasn't cleaned today—and prepare a 'slave contract,' get Han Qian to sign it first."
The 'slave contract' was a jest, but Yang Jia didn't dare treat it lightly. She left the office, closing the door behind her, then hurried to the admin department—this was juicy gossip. Han Qian wasn't the least bit afraid of Madam Yan; Madam Yan was the one who seemed rattled.
Soon, the tea arrived, along with the slave contract. Yang Jia dashed off to finance—this young girl was unexpectedly busy all day.
Yan Qingqing pointed coldly at the teapot on the coffee table:
"Explain your plan to me. If I'm unsatisfied, this teapot smashes on your head."
Han Qian mentally filtered out the last half of that sentence—one only needed to hear half of her words. He picked up the teapot and approached Yan Qingqing. She sprang up, face ashen, trembling as she said:
"Han Qian, don't be reckless!"
Han Qian ignored her, filling her cup with hot water, and calmly said:
"If you have your period, drink some hot water. My plan remains to focus on the mall. This afternoon, I'll send Su Liang for a final inspection and make a decision. Prepare the approval document—there's no time to write the details. I can only say: try to secure this land. Sign a death pact, sign a slave contract, whatever it takes. I absolutely won't let you suffer losses because I need that 400,000 as a lifeline. I doubt you'll remember everything I say; you can notify senior management to prepare for a meeting tomorrow morning to discuss this. I'll present my detailed plan in the conference room."
Yan Qingqing lifted her cup, no longer in a huff, furrowing her dark brows as she asked:
"You seem very confident. This matter won't alarm the board, but it requires a high-level meeting. I can't be sure you aren't sent by my enemies to embarrass me. I simply cannot trust you."
Han Qian nodded lightly:
"You make a valid point. We're strangers; trust is difficult. I can offer no guarantees. I can bring Sister Yang from admin with me—she holds some preliminary plans I drafted. I'm not cruel enough to sacrifice a single mother. Besides, embarrassment is better than helplessness. If I fall flat, it's on me; you'll only get a reputation for poor judgment. You won't owe me 400,000—that sum is astronomical to me. We can sign an agreement: if I fail, you may display my photo on Glory Square's big screen, effectively socially executing me."
Han Qian's confidence was intrinsic, his pride unwavering that failure was impossible. Yan Qingqing was intrigued; his final words were the strongest reassurance. If he failed, he couldn't survive here, or even in the surrounding cities.
What troubled Yan Qingqing most was the expensive Gucci suit on Han Qian's back—where had he gotten it? Wasn't he strapped for cash? How could he afford to spend tens of thousands on a Gucci suit?
Noticing Yan Qingqing's gaze fixed on his attire, Han Qian scratched his head sheepishly and muttered:
"I rented it for 500 a day. Wearing something pricey in the mall prevents being looked down upon. I might meet some interior designers—need to make a good impression. I swear, it's not for me."
Yan Qingqing's eyes flashed disdain. She then pulled a tie from the drawer and tossed it to Han Qian:
"Put this on. That tie cost over two thousand. Originally... Why do I bother explaining? I'm too tired to argue. I'll agree, but you cannot leave the company tonight. Su Liang and Yang Lan are grounded as well. I'll be watching you all. If the meeting passes tomorrow, you can rest. I'll pay you a 100,000 bonus now; the rest comes only after your plan proves profitable. If it fails, you all go home."
Han Qian hesitated; he still had a clueless idiot at home who burned food while cooking. Rejecting this plan could ruin everything—his job might be lost. After a long silence, he asked:
"How's dinner?"
"Four dishes and a soup, drinks unlimited, two packs of soft Zhonghua cigarettes."
"Hm... Prepare a bed for Sister Yang—she's older; staying up late isn't good for her."
"Fine. Why didn't you say prepare a bed for me?"
"Does the Yasha Queen need rest?"
"Han Qian, I'll kill you."
As the hot water boiled, Han Qian spun on his heel and fled. Outside the door, he heard the furious shouting echoing from the office and shuddered with lingering fear. All his toughness was a facade—just the sight of Yan Qingqing's trembling legs sent chills down his spine.
This woman was truly no friend at all.