A miserable fate?

Xiang Zhen pressed his ear close to the phone, as if he could hear a faint, bitter smile from his husband through the electrical hum. He could vaguely hear a few snippets like, “Executive Director, I’m from HR,” or “I’ll propose a toast to you.” Was this what workplace socializing was like?

Since the HR department was already on the scene, Zhou Sicheng’s resume—the one where he had been unemployed and worked as a ride-share driver—was likely being used as fodder by the HR people. They were probably broadcasting it publicly, with petty people seizing the chance to kick him while he was down, mocking his husband for driving a ride-share vehicle even after getting off work.

Xiang Zhen bit his lower lip, his heart aching terribly.

On the other end, Zhou Sicheng covered the phone mouthpiece and gently waved his hand, signaling he wouldn’t accept the toast. The employees, knowing when to retreat, left.

Xiang Zhen filled in the rest of the picture in his mind: Zhou Sicheng, at the bottom of the social hierarchy, lacking an expensive suit, acting as the butt of the jokes at a company party, a bitter smile hanging on his lips—not just because of his own destitute situation, but because he had generously agreed to “sell out” his wife’s… voice for the sake of the story.

“Husband, you didn’t actually want me to take this job, did you?”

Zhou Sicheng: “…How could that be?”

Xiang Zhen thought to himself: The most prominent characteristic of an ‘S’ type is their desire for control. With Zhou Sicheng loving him this much, how could he possibly be willing to share his wife’s voice? Robots in every household, like Xiao Kui Bao, could be set to call users ‘Master,’ ‘Dad,’ or ‘Boss.’ To ordinary people, that’s just renting out a voice, but in the eyes of an ‘S,’ that’s selling out one’s wife!

My husband has been holding back so much to accommodate me; I must be considerate of his feelings and not provoke him.

Zhou Sicheng didn’t understand why the job he arranged for Xiang Zhen was bad. “What makes you say that?”

Xiang Zhen: “Husband, my soul, my body, and my voice all belong to you. If you aren’t happy, I won’t earn this quick money.”

Zhou Sicheng suddenly locked onto Xiang Zhen’s train of thought. An electric current seemed to burst into his heart, darting up his spine and drilling straight into his brain, hitting his rational switch.

His original intention in asking Xiang Zhen to record was just to have him earn some pocket money, keep him from delivering food, and have him be well-fed and taken care of in the recording studio until he got back. Zhou Sicheng hadn’t truly intended to use Xiang Zhen’s voiceprint to match Xiao Kui Bao, but he hadn’t scrutinized the reason why—he couldn’t think that deeply in such a short time.

However, with Xiang Zhen stating it so clearly, acting like a virtuous, traditional wife indulging her husband—as if his wife were his private property, and he could do whatever he wanted with him—it would make even a dead wolf’s blood boil.

Xiang Zhen loves me so much.

Zhou Sicheng: “Wife…”

Xiang Zhen curved his eyes. Zhou Sicheng is usually so reserved and steady; who knew he could call me ‘Wife’ with such deep affection?

“Husband, I’ve declined it. We’ll earn our money by working hard and staying grounded. By the way, what package did you order for me? I’m going to the pick-up station to get it now.”

Zhou Sicheng: “A health tracking wristband.”

Xiang Zhen: “Thank you, Husband!”

Xiang Zhen hung up the phone and first returned the call to Mr. Gao to politely decline his kindness.

Gao Ou didn’t understand why Xiang Zhen had changed his mind. He rarely failed at tasks assigned by the President. Zhou Sicheng had told him about his and Xiang Zhen’s relationship as a sign of trust, proving that his position as a “super secretary” was secure; he didn’t want Zhou Sicheng to hand this task over to some other secretary.

He couldn’t help but try to persuade him further: “Three nights, two hours a day, paid by the day—two hundred thousand after tax.”

Xiang Zhen felt incredibly ashamed. Mr. Gao was such a good person, so full of empathy. There were so many professional voice actors in the world with pleasant voices, but Mr. Gao had thought of him only because he knew his family was poor. “I’m sorry, my husband doesn’t agree.”

Gao Ou: “???”

Didn’t your husband ask me to do this? Are there other husbands involved?

Gao Ou opened the door to the compartment, caught sight of President Zhou, pointed at his phone, and shook his head.

Zhou Sicheng nodded, indicating everything was under control.

Gao Ou: “…”

Xiang Zhen went to the courier station, picked up the package, unwrapped it, saw the smart wristband, activated it, logged in, and shared the data with his husband.

This is definitely a part of Zhou Sicheng’s desire for control.

“Husband, I will wear it all the time.”

“Mm, you’ve done well.”

Xiang Zhen clenched his fist. I’ve been praised by an ‘S’ type!

Zhou Sicheng guided Xiang Zhen step-by-step through sharing the wristband account, and then watched as he went back to running around delivering food.

What was my goal when I first called Xiang Zhen?

Zhou Sicheng shifted his long legs, feeling they had nowhere to go. He felt that just standing there quietly had become a sin. Forget it. With bodyguards following him, it’s good for my frail and spoiled wife to exercise a bit beforehand.

The AI World Summit lasted two days. On the morning of May 19th, Zhou Sicheng gave a speech about increasing investment in AI large model training, establishing core technological barriers and ecosystem dominance, and accelerating the application of Xiao Kui Bao.

Luckily, the draft had been written ten days ago; he couldn’t have written such a resonant, powerful speech in his current state.

Zhou Sicheng thought, Since Xiang Zhen and I can’t have children, and there’s no one to inherit our assets, we’ll have to rely on artificial intelligence in our old age. So, increasing investment is the right path. Xiao Kui Bao may have a terrible personality, but its saving grace is that my wife likes it.

Suddenly, I have the heavy burden of being a father on my shoulders; I must do my best to support it.

On the afternoon of May 19th, Zhou Sicheng took a flight to a city in the west to visit the Xiao Kui Bao data and computing power center. From then on, Zhou Sicheng would stay in Haishi as much as possible.

On the evening of May 20th, he was in the airport hotel, having shooed Secretary Gao away to go get food. He sat upright, put on his headphones, opened his laptop, and calmed his mind.

First, he needed to look up some basic medical knowledge about the human body. Medical ignorance was terrifying; no one would have the heart to toss such a beautiful, delicate wife into the proctology department.

[Xiang Zhen: Husband, are you on a flight tonight? Will you be home today?]

[Zhou Sicheng: No. It’ll probably be past twelve by the time I land. Go to sleep first.]

[Xiang Zhen: It’s okay. Tonight at midnight is the first wave of 618 promotion down payments. I’m working the night shift, so I won’t be off until one o’clock.]

Zhou Sicheng didn’t understand what “down payments” meant; he just felt that shopping platforms were insane. Is this customer service job even worth continuing?

After he went back, what kind of job should he find for Xiang Zhen? Start a cake shop for him? Or a milk tea shop? Hire two employees, let Xiang Zhen be the boss, and just have him dress nicely every day.

[Zhou Sicheng: You love sweets so much, how about I open a cake shop for you? Or a milk tea shop? You’d be the boss, and just need to wear whatever you like.]

If Xiang Zhen had a favorite brand, he would buy a franchise or acquire it. If Xiang Zhen were more career-oriented, he could give him a team to incubate a brand from scratch.

Xiang Zhen was shocked. He hurriedly ran into the bathroom to slack off and called Zhou Sicheng: “Husband, how could you have such an idea? What are you reading right now? Did you see some quick-money-making ad?”

Their family only had a little bit of money, and none of them had any experience in the food industry. How could they open a tea or food shop? They didn’t have enough money—did he want them to take out a loan for several hundred thousand? They would definitely lose everything.

“Husband, your ambition is great, but please look up ‘Yong Ge Talks Catering’ first.”

Zhou Sicheng: “…”

Doing things that don’t fit my “poor” persona is just asking to be humiliated.

Zhou Sicheng salvaged a bit of his image: “I was just saying it casually. Actually, I’m currently studying human medical knowledge.”

He intentionally lowered his voice, like an ambiguous hint.

Medical knowledge!

It fits!

So, is Zhou Sicheng currently studying how to hit a wife without it hurting, and how to apply medicine and disinfect after hitting her? Actually… looking at it this way, it’s a bit perverted.

Xiang Zhen believed that Zhou Sicheng would control himself. If he couldn’t, Xiang Zhen knew a thing or two about fighting back.

Xiang Zhen’s golden hair trembled. With a timid voice, trying his best to sound calm, he said: “Husband, I’m not afraid.”

Zhou Sicheng’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. Xiang Zhen understood the hint. From Xiang Zhen’s conversations with Xiao Kui Bao, he could see that Xiang Zhen wasn’t the kind of idiot who thought “nightlife” meant chatting under the covers. He could calmly type out the words “sex life.”

Zhou Sicheng wished the plane would take off immediately, rather than being stuck at the airport hotel due to weather, waiting indefinitely for clearance.

“You get busy, I still have some literature to review.”

Xiang Zhen hung up, pushed open the bathroom door, and left, eyes straight ahead. Suddenly, someone stopped him.

“You must be Xiang Zhen. Let me introduce myself; my name is Feng Chujun, the heir to this company.”

A man about 1.8 meters tall reached out a hand with a smile. “I’ll be working overtime with you all tonight.”

Xiang Zhen’s eyes flickered. He hadn’t seen this man wash his hands with his own eyes, so he didn’t really want to shake hands in the bathroom: “Hello, I’m in customer service.”

Feng Chujun: “I went abroad for school in high school. It’s quite open out there; boys and girls don’t matter. You don’t need to hide in the bathroom to make calls if you’re gay—there’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Xiang Zhen: “I’m making the call in the bathroom because you installed surveillance cameras, and I get docked pay for making calls during work hours.”

I met my husband through matchmaking; it was open and above board. Why would I need to hide?

Feng Chujun stared at Xiang Zhen’s face. He didn’t know until he came back that someone could have hair more dazzling than a North American college student’s, combined with such an angelic, delicate Asian face: “That’s a last-resort measure. Our company is upgrading and transforming, simplifying processes. We don’t need many employees.”

Xiang Zhen: “Oh.”

Feng Chujun: “If you don’t want to be laid off, you need to show more usefulness so I’ll keep you.”

Xiang Zhen was honest: “I only know how to be customer service.”

Feng Chujun felt the powerlessness of punching cotton. He twitched the corner of his mouth: “Today is 520. It looks like I’m the one accompanying you for overtime, not your boyfriend. You can’t go on a date—doesn’t your boyfriend have any gestures today?”

What gesture?

Xiang Zhen felt this little capitalist said things quite strangely: “I need to get back to my station; overtime means docked pay.”

Knock, knock.

Secretary Gao knocked gently on the bedroom door of the suite, finding, as expected, a workaholic burying his head in official duties.

“President Zhou.”

“What is it?”

Gao Ou hesitated slightly: “Today is 520.”

520 was purely a day invented by merchants to harvest consumers. Gao Ou was worried that this day was too childish for the President to care about at all, yet he also feared the President would think back on it tomorrow and blame him for not reminding him today.

Zhou Sicheng was focused on reviewing materials and didn’t understand the implication.

Gao Ou: “Usually, on this day, couples will send a 520 [yuan] red envelope to their partner.”

Zhou Sicheng raised his eyes and picked up his phone. “Thanks for the reminder.”

Gao Ou walked over, intending to help him tidy up the desk: “The radar echo has dispersed; the plane can take off.”

Zhou Sicheng was looking down, sending a transfer to Xiang Zhen. His thumb quickly pressed 5, 2, 0, 0, 0, 0… He didn’t know how many zeros he had pressed before he remembered his persona, and then he expressionlessly deleted them. Suddenly, he caught a glimpse of the Secretary approaching, and his laptop screen was showing…

“Stop.” Zhou Sicheng slammed his hand down, covering the laptop lid. In his haste, he didn’t notice how many zeros he had deleted; with a tap of his fingertip, he sent it. “I’ll clean it up myself.”

Secretary Gao retreated: “Understood.”

At 11:02 PM on May 20th, Xiang Zhen received a 52.00 yuan red envelope from his husband.

Just right. He hadn’t posted an official announcement on WeChat Moments about being with his husband yet, because Zhou Sicheng didn’t allow him to post photos, and Xiang Zhen hadn’t thought of suitable text. Xiang Zhen happily took a screenshot and posted to his Moments—the picture was true, the love was evidence.

Ten minutes passed. No one liked it. But there was one comment.

[Yu Yueyue: He’s so stingy, it’s killing me.]

Xiang Zhen pouted. My husband remembered this insignificant holiday and even sent me a red envelope. What does the amount have to do with anything? Isn’t it just moving money from his left pocket to his right pocket?

Three minutes later, he received a like. Xiang Zhen looked delightedly.

[Feng Chujun liked this.]