Chapter 4: The Real Widow
Even as Ye Xiwen chewed him out, a notification flickered in Wu Yifan's mind:
*Task: Confess to Ye Xiwen in a bold, sincere manner.*
*Deadline: 24 hours.*
*Status: Completed.*
*Completion Rating: Moderate.*
*Reward: 5 enhancement points. New attribute unlocked—muscle strength.*
Having tasted the power of enhancements, Wu Yifan knew 5 points were no trivial matter. The snickers from the hostesses, the coldness in Ye Xiwen's tone—none of it stung as much as the relief of getting those points.
Still, "moderate"? He'd laid it all out there! If the first task was this warped, what hellish challenges lay ahead? He'd have to hoard those points like gold. And "muscle strength"? Probably just made him buffer, he figured—useful for lifting crates or intimidating drunks, but not exactly glamorous.
With the task done, Wu Yifan pasted on an apologetic smile. "Boss Ye, honestly? I just really love Leslie Cheung's confession scene in *Days of Being Wild*. Wanted to try it out. No other meaning, promise. Don't take it to heart."
The hostesses, who'd half-admired his audacity a minute ago, now rolled their eyes so hard it looked painful. What a lame excuse! Even the bartender, who'd briefly thought he had "tragic poet vibes," facepalmed internally.
"Ballsy, using Boss Ye as your guinea pig!" one scoffed.
"Exactly! Dock his pay, Boss. Teach him a lesson!"
Ye ran a tight ship—her girls stuck together, especially against men. If men's words were pistols, women's gossip was a machine gun. One pistol vs. a squad of heavy machine guns? Not even a Desert Eagle stood a chance.
Wu Yifan held his tongue and turned to leave.
"Not bad," Ye said suddenly, folding her arms, eyes raking over him like she was appraising a used car.
"What do you mean?" Wu tensed, wary.
Ye stepped back, sizing him up again, then nodded. "You've been at Infinity a year, right? Never paid much attention. But today? Not half-bad. That little 'tortured soul' act—cheesy, but if I were younger, or weaker-willed, I might've fallen for it." She glanced at the hostesses. "What do you think? Be honest."
The girls exchanged looks, then let loose with brutal candor:
"Boss, now that you mention it… he *did* have something. When he asked for you earlier? Kinda intense. If he weren't in $20 knockoffs, he might've pulled it off."
"Total忧郁诗人 (yōuyù shīrén—melancholic poet) vibe. Like, he meant it, y'know?"
Ye pursed her lips, then nodded at Wu Yifan. "My office. Now."
Wu didn't delude himself into thinking this was a come-on. Gut feeling: trouble. But when the boss summons you, you go.
Inside her office, he tried another apology. "Boss Ye, really, it was just a joke—"
"I know it was a joke," she cut him off, tapping her desk with a manicured finger. Her tone shifted, sharp and businesslike. "Wu Yifan… forget my personality for a sec. Be honest—how do I treat my staff?"
"Great," he said, which was true. She was tough, but fair. "And your character's fine, too."
"You don't want to see Infinity shut down, do you?"
Wu frowned. The KTV was always packed. No way it was failing.
Ye nodded at a crumpled document on her desk, scowling. "This place belongs to Yingjie Industries. I signed a 3-year lease, and now it's up. They want to triple the rent. If I agree, we won't make a penny. Might as well close."
Triple in three years sounded steep, but Beitian was booming. A 3x hike wasn't *unreasonable*. Ye could probably swing it with some profit left over—she just hated parting with money. If she could wring a discount, she'd squeeze it till it screamed. But even her charm had limits, and she knew it.
"What are you getting at?" Wu asked.
"I begged a meeting with Yingjie's CEO, Ms. Wang, in a week," Ye said, lacing her fingers, leaning forward. No trace of her earlier irritation—this was pure strategy. "But I