He didn’t go home that day, nor did he go to the Milk Tea Shop.
He just worked overtime at the company all day, not clocking out until midnight.
Afterward, he laid out a makeshift bed and slept at the office.
Seeing him like this, both Huang Yijun and Qian Dehao thought he’d lost his mind.
He was just too extreme, pushing the young folks beyond their limits.
What was even more outrageous was that Song Wuli stood the entire day—standing while working.
He even did dozens of squats on and off, and held the horse stance for tens of minutes.
Huang Yijun felt something was off.
During the lunch break, he tried to get the scoop and asked what was up with him.
Song Wuli quietly leaned in to his ear, “I see you as a brother, so I’ll tell you, but don’t tell anyone else—the copywriting team is going to lay off a few people, soon.”
Huang Yijun: “Where did you hear that?” Suddenly, he remembered Old Song had been called into the supervisor’s office that morning.
He understood immediately.
The two exchanged a knowing glance and shared a “you know, I know” smile.
That afternoon, Huang Yijun went to find Qian Dehao. “Old Qian, I see you as a brother, so I’m telling you something huge—the content department, including our copywriting team, is about to have layoffs. Be careful these days. Don’t tell anyone else.”
“Got it. That’s what brothers do.” Qian Dehao gave Old Huang a thumbs up.
After work in the evening, Qian Dehao went out for dinner, hanging out with a woman in her thirties and heading off for some barbecue.
He leaned in close to her ear. “I see you as a good buddy, so I’ll tell you something. Don’t tell anyone else. Especially in the company’s content department—there are going to be layoffs.”
After the barbecue, Qian Dehao went back to work overtime.
He just wasn’t as intense as Song Wuli; he left after working overtime until 10 p.m.
In the huge copywriting team, only Song Wuli was left working overtime until the early morning, then sleeping on the spot and toughing it out until the next day.
He got up in the morning, washed up quickly at the company, and checked his phone—there were some messages.
Diamond had sent a selfie, actually going to beg from Huanhong, and they were eating pan-fried dumplings together.
Pan-fried dumplings again.
Can’t they eat something else for once?
[Diamond: Don’t worry about me, I’ll be at Huanhong’s for the next couple of days.]
That was last night’s message.
After washing his face, Song Wuli replied: When you’re hanging out with Huanhong, don’t go looking for Demons. This month, just focus on living for yourself.
He soon got a reply from Diamond.
[Diamond: But I have to drive out all the Demons!]
It was tough to communicate with Diamond about these things.
Diamond thought the duties assigned to it were exactly what it wanted to do, and believed it wholeheartedly.
It was as if humans had to eat and drink—necessary and beyond question.
Diamond’s attitude toward duty was just like that.
Anyway, Song Wuli couldn’t talk him out of it.
They chatted a bit more, and sure enough, Diamond brought up the responsibilities of a Magical Girl again, hoping Song Wuli could fulfill those duties soon, and learn to deal with Demons.
Demons shouldn’t be allowed to harm humans and the Earth anymore—they needed to be driven out.
Too lazy to keep chatting with Diamond, he checked Xia Shiyao’s messages.
That woman hadn’t apologized, and even wanted to meet at Yin Lin’s secret base.
Old Song replied with one word: Scram.
Back to work. The day was another whirlwind of activity.
Several young people entered the company, whispering as they walked.
“Xiao Zhao, did you hear? The company’s having layoffs.”
“Huh? Layoffs again? It hasn’t even been that long since the last time.”
With a little time left before work started, the Young People’s Alliance began discussing it.
Song Wuli overheard as well. Wait, wasn’t it supposed to be just a few people from Copywriting Team Two? How did it become the whole company having layoffs?
Did the supervisor lie to me?
No way, right? The supervisor had always thought highly of me and often looked out for the Old Men’s Alliance.
Why would he trick me with false news?
Song Wuli started to doubt.
He worked while keeping his ears open, listening to the young people gossip.
From their mouths, he learned that the company was indeed laying people off. They claimed to have very reliable sources and were quite confident.
Suddenly, Song Wuli understood. No wonder the copywriting team had gone through two major incidents and still hadn’t been completely replaced. Turns out these young folks had someone backing them—a protector—so even when the copywriting team was in trouble, not everyone was replaced. They even managed to get wind of top-secret company layoff news.
A few minutes later, Huang Yijun arrived, still grinning at his phone.
Song Wuli hurried over and pulled him into a quiet corner.
“Old Huang, I think the supervisor’s targeting our Old Men’s Alliance…” He then told Huang Yijun what the supervisor had said during their meeting yesterday.
The supervisor’s original words were that a few people would be leaving the copywriting team.
The meaning was clear—it was a small-scale elimination, not a massive layoff.
But today, even the young people had heard about it, and they claimed the company was having a big layoff.
Who to believe? The young people, or the supervisor?
Huang Yijun couldn’t decide either. He told Song Wuli to stay alert. Either way, whether it was just a few people from the copywriting team or a big company layoff, it would usually be the weaker ones who got cut.
Huang Yijun wasn’t too worried about himself, nor about Song Wuli. In this company, few could outlast Old Song.
So, they threw themselves into work again, putting aside the Milk Tea Shop for now. He’d already told the manager he wouldn’t be coming for a while—he had some personal matters to deal with.
Today’s work was nerve-wracking.
When the supervisor came in and saw everyone working hard—no one chatting, no one slacking—he felt like he was dreaming, as if he were in a fantasy.
After more than an hour, the supervisor seemed to catch wind of something and hurried off to find the manager.
He tried to probe about the layoffs, but the manager said there was no such thing.
There were no plans for a big layoff.
No way. Everyone downstairs was talking about it—rumors don’t come from nowhere.
Could it be that I’m the one being targeted, and the manager’s just trying to keep me calm?
This is bad.
Even the supervisor was getting anxious.
That night, a few more people stayed at the company, working overtime until midnight, then sleeping on the floor until the next day.
After two nights sleeping at the company, on the third day, after finishing work, Song Wuli planned to go home, take a shower, and get some rest.
But things weren’t so simple. After leaving public transport, walking down an empty street toward home—it was already 11 p.m., pretty late.
He bought three servings of pan-fried dumplings and continued on his way. Suddenly, something fell from the sky, crashing down on Song Wuli and slamming him to the ground.
Just as he was about to turn and check what hit him, he felt an electric shock run through his body. His mind went blank, he couldn’t move at all, his muscles spasmed.
The shock was pretty intense.
Then his tongue lolled out, his eyes rolled back, and he passed out.
When he woke up again, his soul had already left his body, sucked away.
Damn, this familiar feeling—wasn’t this just being pulled into the crack to see the Contract Goddess?
Looking back, he realized he was in Magical Girl form, alone in an empty alley.
He’d been walking down the street a moment ago, but now he was in an alley.
What happened while he was unconscious?
Dragged forcibly into the crack, Song Wuli’s last thought was: Damn, the Contract Goddess really does have helpers.
Doesn’t seem like Xia Shiyao.
If it was her, that’d mean she knew Magical Girl Yin Lin’s true identity was Song Wuli.
Doesn’t seem like it. Probably someone else.
No wonder I lost the bet.
It must be that the Contract Goddess and someone else are working together behind the scenes.