Anyway, I already lost.
I never expected Xia Shiyao to show up at the last minute.
And it wasn’t even a solo kill—I got double-killed.
My identity got exposed a bit, and people even found out about my bad behavior.
It’s terrible, humiliating—I almost can’t face anyone anymore.
Lying on the bed, drifting in and out of sleep, I kept thinking about what to do with my life from now on.
Maybe I should just give up on Yinlin, pretend Yinlin never existed.
After all, I really can’t face anyone now.
I remembered how the Contract Goddess looked when she brought up the wager—so confident, adding all sorts of conditions, demanding a minimum number of work hours every day, and that I had to wear specific clothes to work at the milk tea shop.
Basically, a bunch of tailor-made terms.
Looking back now, it’s as if the Contract Goddess could see the future, as if she knew something was going to happen.
Maybe she was working with Xia Shiyao, and they pulled off a combo move.
Yes! That must be it!
The Contract Goddess proposed the wager, then secretly had Xia Shiyao expose Yinlin to win.
It was all orchestrated.
Thinking about it this way, I actually felt a little better.
Anyway, I don’t want to see the Contract Goddess, and I don’t want to deal with any Creation Artifact business.
I’ll just drag things out like this.
So what if I have no class, so what if I can’t accept losing.
Let the Contract Goddess and Diamond think whatever they want.
Drifting in and out of sleep, I finally made it to morning and was woken up by the alarm clock.
Limping, I went to wash up.
Looking at the familiar face of a 34-year-old old man in the mirror, I felt a wave of relief.
In the morning, I said goodbye to Diamond and headed to work.
I’d taken a few days off, and when I returned to the company, my coworkers gave me strange looks.
I quickly switched my phone to the front camera and checked myself—nothing wrong.
Whether it was my face, my hair, my flat chest, or the slightly bulging area below, everything was as original as a 34-year-old man should be.
There was no half-old-man, half-little-woman situation.
Weird. What are they looking at, then?
Team leader Huang Yijun was lounging on a break chair, scrolling on his phone, occasionally rubbing his face against the screen.
I didn’t even need to look to know what this guy was up to. Disgusting.
He was so focused that Song Wuli had already walked past him before he noticed.
Out of habit, he gave Song Wuli a playful slap on the butt as he passed by. “Hey, Old Song, morning.”
“Pia”
A joking slap.
Song Wuli jolted all over, nearly jumped, and ran a few steps forward, covering his butt with both hands.
“What’s up, Old Song? Why such a big reaction?” Huang Yijun didn’t think much of it, just found it a bit odd.
“Don’t sneak up on me like that, it’s scary,” Song Wuli raised his voice a bit, sounding a little angry.
Huang Yijun laughed, then patted Song Wuli on the side of the waist.
“What’s the matter, just messing around.
Oh right, Old Song, take a look—our Lord and Heavenly Father, our Saintess Yinlin’s divine punishment. It’s amazing.”
He brought his phone over.
Sure enough, it was that video of the orbital magic cannon.
This time, all the major UP Masters had edited it, splicing in the shot Yinlin fired on the street near Milk Tea Shop No. 8, syncing it with the orbital magic cannon clip and adding some stirring BGM.
It really looked the part, and was actually pretty cool. That’s right, that’s me.
Too bad I have to retire now.
There will never be another Yinlin.
That weak Yinlin is gone for good.
“Oh right, the Supervisor’s looking for you,” Huang Yijun suddenly brought up business.
“Huh? I didn’t get any message.” Song Wuli checked his phone—no messages from the Supervisor.
“I just ran into him. The Supervisor asked if you were coming in today. I said yes, and he told me to let you know to go see him in his office when you arrive.”
“Alright.”
There were still a few minutes before work officially started.
Anyway, I’d already clocked in, and meetings counted as work time too.
At the Supervisor’s office door, I knocked.
Seeing Song Wuli outside the glass, the Supervisor called out, “Come in.”
I went in and closed the door, looking at the forty-year-old man in a suit.
“Sit, give me two minutes,” the Supervisor said, not looking up from the files on his desk.
After about ten seconds, he looked up and saw Song Wuli still standing straight.
He asked, “What’s wrong?”
Song Wuli replied, “I’ll stand. I took so many days off and made everyone worry. Standing helps me recognize my mistake more clearly and keeps me sharp.”
The Supervisor frowned, probably not expecting that answer, but let it go.
He shifted his attention from the files and looked at me. “Old Song, I heard you fell down the stairs. Was it serious? Do you need more time off?”
Song Wuli said, “I’m fine. Right now, I feel full of energy and ready to get back to work.”
“That’s good.”
The Supervisor nodded slightly, then continued, “Old Song, you and I both know you’re the most hardworking in the Wenan Group. The higher-ups are all happy with you. But the people below you, well, they have some complaints. They say you work too hard and make the office atmosphere too tense.”
Song Wuli said, “The company pays me, so I have to be worthy of that salary. I’ll give everything for the company, no matter what others say. I’ll always do my job well.”
He said it with conviction and didn’t blush, though he’d already cursed the company out in his heart.
The Supervisor frowned again, at a bit of a loss for words, and after a while finally said, “What I mean is, you should balance work and rest. No need to push yourself so hard. When others see you working overtime like this, they think our company’s a sweatshop.”
Aren’t you guys just a sweatshop?
Of course, Song Wuli didn’t dare say that out loud, so he just nodded.
The Supervisor continued, “There are some things I’ll just say to you—don’t tell anyone else.”
Song Wuli nodded.
The Supervisor lowered his voice and went on, “Old Song, I’m 40. You’re… 34, right?”
Song Wuli nodded again.
The Supervisor said, “We’re both men. I get it, I really do. I’ve been through the same thing. Lately, I’ve been hearing rumors—the higher-ups are a bit dissatisfied with the Wenan Group. Both the First Wenan Group and Second Wenan Group have gotten some complaints. Before, you guys did that whole Electric Meng Sir thing, then Mingshi, which brought in a lot of haters and embarrassed the company. Those two incidents had quite an impact.”
Song Wuli replied, “Those things aren’t over yet? The company’s still digging up old issues?”
The Supervisor said, “Old issues can always be dug up. What I’m hearing is, the Manager up top isn’t happy with the Wenan Group’s work progress—it’s too slow. So they’re bringing up old grievances too, whispering in the higher-ups’ ears. Things might get stricter soon, and a few people might have to go. Be careful, don’t let your left foot be the first one into the company.”
Got it. Song Wuli nodded knowingly at the Supervisor with a meaningful smile and bowed in thanks.
The Supervisor smiled slightly and nodded back.
Old men’s mutual understanding.
How can the young ones compete with us old men?
Don’t think the Old Man Alliance is just Huang Yijun and Qian Dehao.
The Supervisor often looks out for the Old Man Alliance too.
Leaving the Supervisor’s office, Song Wuli sent Diamond a message, saying he wouldn’t be coming home tonight, work was a bit busy.
There’s some food in the fridge. Just heat it up in the microwave.
If you really can’t handle it, go beg from Huanhong, but even if you starve, don’t go to Xia Shiyao. If you’re really about to starve, just send me a message.
After that, Song Wuli started working at full power, standing at his desk, shutting out everything else.
I love work, work loves me. Aside from work, I don’t want to think about anything. Work is everything in my life—I live for work.