‌Chapter 25 The Joke

"Director Ye, hello! I'm Tang Yan—Yan as in 'captivating smile.' I handle advertising in the marketing department. Looking forward to your guidance!" The leggy beauty in denim hot pants swayed closer, her peach-perfect curves barely contained by the shorts. Her oversized white tee knotted above a silver belly ring, while a playful auburn ponytail swung like a manga character's.

Before Ye Chenghuan could respond, a petite figure squeezed past Tang Yan. Zhu Lingling—all 160cm of hourglass curves packed into an emerald bandage dress—flashed dimples that could melt glaciers. "Call me Lingling! I'm the graphic designer. Don't you dare favor them over me!"

Ye's gaze drifted to the corner where a girl sat hunched, hair veiling her face. "And you are…?"

Zhu Lingling giggled. "Zhou Jie! Stop daydreaming and greet our new boss!"

The girl rose slowly. When their eyes met, Ye froze.

Her.

The one he'd shared a stormy night with weeks ago. The reason he'd slaughtered underworld kingpin Long Biao and fifty-five bodyguards. Now here she stood, coolly extending a hand. "Director Ye, I'm Zhou Jie, administrative clerk."

Her composure unnerved him. "No formalities needed," Ye managed, shaking her ice-cold fingers. "Just treat me as… a colleague."

The tension thawed under Ye's charm. Soon Zhu Lingling was blurting, "We thought our new director would be some bald, potbellied uncle! But you're practically a baby!"

"Then call me little brother," Ye grinned. "Or 'Huanhuan.' Even 'hubby' works."

Giggles erupted. Tang Yan purred, "Huanhuan…" in a tone that liquefied spines.

Zhou Jie cleared her throat, clutching a binder. "Director Zhao's orders—you must memorize all company regulations. Unless you want our bonuses docked…"

Ye groaned. The binder contained 327 pages of corporate dogma.

An hour into Zhou Jie's robotic recital—"Article 1: Employees shall maintain professional decorum…"—Ye's eyelids drooped. He "accidentally" spilled tea across the binder.

"Let's… pause for refreshments!" He vanished, returning with a black plastic bag.

Tang Yan prodded the mystery package. "Hard… cylindrical… what is this?"

Zhu Lingling and Zhou Jie flushed.

Ye dumped the contents—a treasure trove of contraband: French biscuits, milk candies, tangerine juice, potato chips.

"But the rules—" Zhou Jie protested weakly.

"My department now." Ye winked. "Eat or I'll give these to HR."

The girls descended like vultures. Crunching crisps, Zhu Lingling swung her legs. "So… Huanhuan… got a girlfriend?"

Ye glanced at Zhou Jie. "Yes."

The chip in Zhou Jie's hand snapped.

"Photos! We'll vet her!" Tang Yan chirped.

Their interrogation died when Zhao Yalin swept into the cafeteria. Every clink of cutlery stilled as the CEO selected steamed greens and rice. The room held its breath until her last bite.

Ye broke the suffocating silence. "Why so grim? Food's better with laughter. Let me tell a joke—"

He leaned in. "A group of nuns bicycled through hills, whooping at each summit. The abbess scolded, 'Stop hollering! Or I'll reattach your bike seats!'"

Three seconds of stunned silence.

Then Zhu Lingling sprayed orange juice across the table.

Somewhere, Zhao Yalin's teacup cracked.