Chapter 17: Ground Rules
Wu Yifan stared at the buttery yellow suit and black leather shoes laid out on the desk, his jaw slack. The price tag alone made his head spin—6,000 yuan. That was three months of his salary, gone in a single shopping spree.
"Six thousand," he repeated, as if saying it aloud would make it less absurd. "Deducted from my pay?"
Ye Xiwen raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching with amusement. "You think I'd *gift* you a designer suit? Nice try. But don't worry—you'll earn it back. Tomorrow's banquet is important. Look the part, and I'll throw in a bonus."
Wu scowled. Ever since Ye had walked in on him and Mu Xiaoyao in the security booth—*fully clothed*, thank you very much—she'd been treating him like a delinquent. Her glares could've iced a volcano, and her lectures about "professionalism" had become a daily ritual.
"It's not like we *did* anything," he muttered.
Ye's eyes narrowed. "You had a *sixteen-year-old* in your lap, giggling like you were sharing secrets. What else was I supposed to think? If her parents showed up with a paternity test, do you know how that would ruin Infinity? I'd have reporters camped outside, the cops breathing down my neck—"
"Okay, okay!" Wu held up his hands. "I get it. No more… lap-sitting. Happy?"
"Ecstatic," Ye deadpanned. "Now try on the suit. If it doesn't fit, I'm not wasting another cent."
Wu grumbled, but he slipped into the suit. It fit surprisingly well—tailored, but not too tight, the fabric smooth against his skin. He checked himself in the mirror, startled. For once, he didn't look like a slacker. He looked… presentable.
"Not bad," Ye admitted, her tone softening. "Now, tomorrow's rules: no drinking too much, no picking fights, and *no* flirting with anyone. Especially not the hostesses. Got it?"
"Rules, rules, rules," Wu muttered. "What are you, my mom?"
"Someone has to keep you in line." She tossed him a pair of cufflinks. "Be ready at noon. We're taking my car."
Wu caught them, rolling his eyes. But as Ye left, he found himself smiling. Maybe this wasn't so bad. A fancy suit, a fancy party, and a chance to see what the "high life" looked like.
*Just don't mess it up*, he told himself.
Easy enough. Right?
The next morning, Wu arrived at noon, the suit pressed, his hair gelled into submission. Ye raised an eyebrow when she saw him. "Clean. I'm impressed."
"Didn't want to embarrass you," he said, though his cheeks heated slightly.
Her car—a sleek black Mercedes—waited out front. Wu slid into the passenger seat, marveling at the leather interior and the faint scent of her perfume.
"Nervous?" Ye asked, starting the engine.
"Me? Please. I've handled drunks with knives. A bunch of rich people sipping champagne? Cakewalk."
Ye laughed. "Famous last words."
The banquet was held at Heavenly Realm, a luxury hotel with chandeliers the size of small cars and marble floors so shiny you could see your reflection. Waiters in tuxedos glided through the crowd,托盘 stacked with champagne flutes and caviar canapés.
Wu felt like a fish out of water. Everyone here wore suits worth more than his rent, their voices low and polished, their laughter tinkling like wind chimes. He recognized a few faces—local politicians, CEOs he'd seen in the news—but most were strangers, eyeing him with thinly veiled curiosity.
"Relax," Ye murmured, looping her arm through his. "Smile. Nod. Pretend you know what they're talking about."
"Easy for you to say," he muttered. "You look like you belong here."
Ye's lips curved. "So do you. Now c'mon—Zhang Hualei's over there. Let's get this over with."
Zhang Hualei, the mayor's son, was exactly as Wu had pictured—tall, broad-shouldered, with a smirk that said he knew he was untouchable. He greeted Ye with a kiss on the cheek, his eyes lingering a little too long on her cleavage.
"Ye, darling! You look stunning. And who's this?" He finally glanced at Wu, his tone dismissive.
"Wu Yifan, my security chief," Ye said, her smile never wavering. "He's here to keep me out of trouble."
Zhang's laugh was loud, forced. "Trouble? With a face like yours? Never." He clapped Wu on the back, hard. "Keep an eye on her, won't you? She's a handful."
Wu bit back a retort. *Play nice*, he reminded himself. *Play nice, get paid.*
But as the night wore on, "playing nice" got harder. Zhang hovered, his comments growing bolder, his hand drifting toward Ye's waist more than once. Other men stared, too—some with admiration, others with the same hungry glint in their eyes.
Wu's jaw tightened. He'd never been the jealous type, but something about their leers rubbed him wrong. This wasn't just attraction—it was entitlement, like Ye was a prize to be won.
"Let's get some air," he said, leaning down to murmur in her ear.
Ye nodded, relief flickering across her face.
They stepped onto the balcony, the cool night air clearing Wu's head. Below, the city sparkled, a sea of lights stretching to the horizon.
"Thanks," Ye said, sipping her champagne. "Zhang's… persistent."
"Annoying," Wu corrected.
She laughed. "That too."
For a moment, they stood in silence, watching the stars. Wu thought about the Enhancer, about Mu Xiaoyao, about the 1 lousy enhancement point left on his watch.
"Y'know," he said, "you don't have to put up with that."
Ye sighed. "This is how it works, Wu. You smile, you charm, you pretend it doesn't bother you. It's business."
"Business shouldn't make you cringe."
She glanced at him, something soft in her eyes. "When did you get so chivalrous?"
"Always been a knight in shining armor," he joked. "Just… forgot to polish the armor."
Ye laughed, a real, warm sound this time. "C'mon. Let's go back. We've done our duty."
As they re-entered the ballroom, Wu caught Zhang staring again. This time, he didn't look away. He met his gaze, his stare steady, unflinching.
Zhang's smirk faded. He looked away first.
Wu grinned to himself. *Not so untouchable now, are you?*
Maybe this banquet thing wasn't so bad after all.
Maybe, just maybe, he was starting to get the hang of this "adulting" stuff.
Or not. But for tonight? It was enough.