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ST CHAPTER 7

In Wei Jiayi’s view, the most soul-crushing experience was believing you had successfully sent off a great Buddha, only to have them suddenly declare they were staying because they had something to do.

That afternoon, Li Mingcheng called Wei Jiayi and informed him that, after seeing his mother off the island, he planned to stay and volunteer. He added, “My ge is doing the same. Didn’t see that coming, huh?”

“…” Wei Jiayi was speechless.

“It’s because his company is facing a massive scandal. Their stock prices tanked, and the PR team recommended he stay on Buderus Island for a few days, do some charity work, and generate positive press to bury the scandal. My aunt and uncle didn’t agree at first, insisting he needed to be hospitalized, but surprisingly, he agreed right away.” Li Mingcheng sighed. “Of course, he still couldn’t win against Aunt, so they took him to the hospital for a check-up first.”

Wei Jiayi had no words. He couldn’t imagine what Zhao Jing could possibly accomplish on the island, given that he only had one working leg and lacked even the most basic skills like washing dishes. He commented, “He’s certainly career-driven.”

Li Mingcheng chuckled and said, “Jiayi, why don’t you stay at the mountain guesthouse tonight? Li Mingmian and the others have left, so it’s just my ge and me there now. It’s practically empty.”

The thought of Zhao Jing gave Wei Jiayi a headache. He politely declined, “I’d better not. I don’t think he’d welcome me.”

“Why not? My ge specifically mentioned that you’re welcome to stay,” Li Mingcheng replied. “I think he’s genuinely grateful to you.”

For Wei Jiayi, Zhao Jing’s gratitude felt like too heavy a burden. He wanted to refuse again, but as the words formed on his tongue, he reconsidered. Staying at the lodge would free up a spot at the volunteer accommodations for someone else, which seemed like the right thing to do.

Buderus Island was located in an underdeveloped country with limited resources for disaster relief. After considering his options for a few seconds, Wei Jiayi decided he shouldn’t refuse just to avoid Zhao Jing, so he thanked Li Mingcheng.

Not long after, Nick and Walter returned to the clinic.

Noticing that the number of volunteers had significantly increased since yesterday, Nick asked, “Are you still here tomorrow?”

When Wei Jiayi confirmed he was, Nick followed up, “Would you join us for a forest search-and-rescue mission?”

Nick explained that over ten households were living in the forested area at the base of the mountain. The tsunami had blocked all access routes with fallen trees and boulders. Excavators were needed to clear the way, but manpower was also essential for removing roadblocks so rescue operations could proceed. Most relief resources had been focused on homes near the beach and in residential areas, while the forest pathways had received scant attention. Struggling to find people willing to help, Nick decided to ask Wei Jiayi for assistance.

Wei Jiayi agreed without hesitation.

By evening, piles of supplies had accumulated near the medical center, and a construction crew had arrived with temporary building materials to set up new wards. The supplies came from various charities, while the construction materials were labeled as donations from Puchang Technology.

After handing off his duties to the night-shift volunteers and informing the clinic director about the next day’s forest mission, Wei Jiayi drove back up to the mountaintop. There, he found a helicopter parked on the roof of the guesthouse—Zhao Jing had evidently returned after his hospital check-up.

The front door was closed, so Wei Jiayi pressed the doorbell. Li Mingcheng quickly answered.

As Wei Jiayi stepped into the entryway, he caught the faint aroma of food. Entering the living room, he saw seven or eight people crowded around Zhao Jing, who was seated on the sofa. A few of them leaned over, making the space feel cramped.

Wei Jiayi instinctively paused, taking a moment to admire this rare sight in modern society.

Hearing the commotion, Zhao Jing turned his head. Wei Jiayi quickly put on a polite smile. “President Zhao, thank you for letting me stay.”

Zhao Jing appeared satisfied with the acknowledgment, giving a curt “Mm” and a nod before turning back to the man in front of him, who was holding a tablet displaying what seemed to be a spreadsheet.

“That one’s a doctor,” Li Mingcheng quietly introduced to Wei Jiayi. “The others are caregivers. Across from him is his secretary, surnamed Wu. The one closest to him is the head of PR. There are also two chefs in the kitchen, and housekeeping is upstairs cleaning.”

Wei Jiayi had known Zhao Jing’s arrangements to be grand, but he hadn’t expected this level of extravagance. Left speechless, he couldn’t help but wonder aloud, “With all these people here, is there even space for me to stay?”

“Don’t worry. Your room is ready—the master bedroom on the third floor,” Li Mingcheng assured him immediately. “Except for one doctor, everyone else will stay in the neighboring guesthouse at night.”

That’s even more excessive, thought Wei Jiayi, though he kept the remark to himself.

Li Mingcheng, perhaps noticing Wei Jiayi’s disapproval of Zhao Jing’s pampered lifestyle, explained on Zhao Jing’s behalf. “A lot of supplies were brought in this afternoon. Most of the seaplane docks were destroyed, so Aunt and Uncle donated funds to build a temporary airstrip. Construction started this afternoon.”

“I’ll take you to your room,” Li Mingcheng added.

As they passed the back of the sofa, Zhao Jing’s PR manager was reporting in a low voice, “The overall reaction on social media has been positive and aligns with our expectations. Tomorrow, we may need your help to take some photos on-site.”

“Why do I still need to take photos?” Zhao Jing’s tone was sharp.

After spending two days around Zhao Jing, even with his back turned, Wei Jiayi could easily imagine the expression on his face.

The PR manager quickly explained, “Seeing is believing, and visual proof is still essential. But the key is to avoid making it look like a publicity stunt. I’ll hire an experienced photographer who can ensure you feel comfortable.”

At the mention of “photographer,” Wei Jiayi suddenly felt a tingling sensation on his scalp—a bad premonition creeping over him.

Sure enough, Zhao Jing perked up, turned around, and summoned him. “No need to hire anyone. Wei Jiayi, come here.”

Wei Jiayi had no choice but to steel himself and walk over. Zhao Jing told the PR manager, “He’s a photographer. Whatever kind of photos you need, talk to him.”

Wei Jiayi finally got a full view of Zhao Jing.

Zhao Jing had changed into a pristine black golf shirt and shorts, paired with brand-new sneakers. His left leg rested on a small wooden stool.

After returning from his medical check-up, his leg brace had been upgraded. It was now more refined and much smaller, extending only from his calf to just above his knee. Even the crutches beside him had been replaced with a sleek stainless steel version, gleaming brightly.

He looked imposing once more, with no trace of the disheveled figure from yesterday.

He addressed Wei Jiayi, “Take some pictures for me tomorrow. Name your price.”

“I’ve never done this kind of photography before, so I’m not very experienced,” Wei Jiayi replied tactfully. “Also, I’ll be heading into the forest for a search-and-rescue mission tomorrow, so I might not have the time.”

“The forest?” Zhao Jing seemed to ignore the refusal altogether, instead announcing confidently, “I’ll go too.”

Wei Jiayi felt a surge of frustration at how casually Zhao Jing treated the situation. But Zhao Jing was Zhao Jing—a man not to be offended easily. Resisting the urge to snap back with comments like, “Bringing an entourage to the island is just making things more chaotic” or “Disaster zones aren’t places for spoiled rich people to do PR,” he instead explained the conditions in the forest. He pointed out that it wasn’t suitable for someone with a broken leg, hoping to dissuade Zhao Jing subtly.

However, Zhao Jing cut him off mid-explanation when he mentioned the use of excavators to clear paths. “Oh, that’s fine. I can drive an excavator.”

Wei Jiayi froze. It took him two seconds to process the statement before blurting out, “What?”

Zhao Jing, evidently thinking the question was rude, shot him an impatient look and repeated, “I can drive an excavator. My left leg’s immobile right now, and an excavator is safer than a helicopter.”

He then turned to his secretary and asked, “Were there any excavators included in today’s donations?”

The secretary, just as flustered as Wei Jiayi, stammered, “Um, no, there weren’t.”

“Figure out a way to get a few over here tonight,” Zhao Jing instructed.

Everyone present seemed at a loss, except for the PR manager, who became genuinely excited. “If we can get footage of you driving an excavator, it’ll be far more impactful than the usual shots of you overseeing operations near the supply planes.”

Zhao Jing looked like he was getting fed up with listening and waved them off with a frown. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow. That’s enough for today. You can all leave now. I’m going to eat.”

Wei Jiayi, still caught up in the absurdity of Zhao Jing claiming he could operate an excavator, stood frozen in place. Zhao Jing shifted his gaze to him and snapped, “Why aren’t you taking a shower yet?”

Wei Jiayi didn’t understand Zhao Jing’s obsession with other people’s hygiene but followed Li Mingcheng upstairs to locate his room.

The room was spacious and new. After placing his bag on the floor, Wei Jiayi headed into the bathroom for a quick shower. Once dressed in clean clothes, he noticed a missed call from Li Mingcheng on his phone and called him back.

Li Mingcheng asked, “Jiayi, are you done with your shower?”

Wei Jiayi replied, “Yes.”

Li Mingcheng said, “Great, come down quickly—we’ve been waiting for you to start dinner.”

When Wei Jiayi went downstairs, Zhao Jing and Li Mingcheng were already seated at the dining table. Zhao Jing’s face was impassive as he waited for Wei Jiayi to sit before picking up his chopsticks and saying, “Let’s eat.”

As Wei Jiayi held his bowl and took his first bite, he was struck by the chef’s extraordinary cooking. After a few more bites, he found himself reevaluating Zhao Jing’s level of comfort in life. In contrast, Wei Jiayi’s meals were often haphazard. Lunch was never guaranteed, and on filming sets without catering, he’d grab bread from a convenience store and eat it at home for dinner.

When he had shared a rental with Pan Yifei in the past, Pan Yifei’s cooking had always been exceptional. On his days off, he’d cook for Wei Jiayi, and the small apartment would be filled with the smell of oil, but it always smelled delicious.

Back then, Wei Jiayi thought that was the best food in the world. Now, tasting the dishes prepared by Zhao Jing’s chef, he realized that if he were reborn as the golden child of a wealthy family, his quality of life could easily be elevated to a whole new level.

Wei Jiayi glanced at Zhao Jing, who ate steadily, his movements elegant. It was impossible to tell if Zhao Jing even liked the food. He had probably grown numb to luxurious delicacies by now.

Wei Jiayi felt a pang of envy. Exhausted from the day, he devoured two large bowls of food, eating so much he felt both dizzy and sleepy. Once he finished, he headed upstairs to sleep.

When Zhao Jing had woken that morning, he discovered that Wei Jiayi had already left without saying anything.

After spending the entire day volunteering down the mountain, Wei Jiayi returned looking disheveled. Perhaps to avoid disturbing Zhao Jing’s work, he ate quickly and then retreated upstairs.

Once Zhao Jing had finished his company business in the living room, he sent his secretary away. He waited for a few minutes, but Wei Jiayi still hadn’t come downstairs. Turning to Li Mingcheng, he asked, “What’s Wei Jiayi doing?”

That afternoon, Zhao Jing had undergone several medical tests. During the CT scan, a wave of discomfort had hit him, stirring memories of the tsunami. He remembered how effective Wei Jiayi’s comforting words had been the day before and thought he should let Wei Jiayi speak more to him since they hadn’t spoken much today.

Li Mingcheng said he wasn’t sure. But, catching Zhao Jing’s pointed glance, he pulled out his phone and called Wei Jiayi. A moment later, he reported back, “Jiayi just took a nap.”

“Is he awake now?” Zhao Jing asked.

Li Mingcheng paused for a second, then hesitantly asked over the phone, “Jiayi, are you awake?”

Zhao Jing’s gaze drifted to the coffee table, where the camera he had intercepted from Li Mingmian that morning sat. He gestured for Li Mingcheng to relay a message, “Tell him to come downstairs if he’s awake. I need to talk to him about tomorrow’s photo shoot.”

Zhao Jing didn’t want Li Mingcheng to know about his PTSD, so once the call ended, he dismissed Li Mingcheng to his room. Not long after, Wei Jiayi descended the stairs slowly.

His face was flushed from sleep, his eyes still hazy. His wrinkled T-shirt hung on him as he walked toward Zhao Jing and asked, “You were looking for me, President Zhao?”

“Mm. Sit,” Zhao Jing said curtly, pointing at the camera on the coffee table. He explained first, “Li Mingmian tried to take it this morning, but I got it back. He didn’t even pay you, so why did you take photos for him? Tomorrow, you’ll use it to take some photos for me.”

Wei Jiayi sat down in the armchair, crossing one leg over the other. He glanced at the camera, then looked up and said, “But this camera isn’t really suitable for news photography.”

“What equipment do you need? I’ll have PR prepare it,” Zhao Jing replied.

Wei Jiayi looked sleepy. He raised a hand to yawn, and Zhao Jing noticed his eyes watering from it.

Shaking his head, Wei Jiayi said in a slightly nasal voice, “No equipment is necessary; don’t trouble yourself. Honestly, for this kind of news, a phone is best. If the resolution is too high, it might actually look fake.”

“You really know your stuff,” Zhao Jing remarked. He remembered how Wei Jiayi had claimed earlier in the evening that he didn’t know much about this type of photography. Zhao Jing thought to himself that this guy was overly modest and lacked confidence at times.

“I wouldn’t call it knowing.” Wei Jiayi smiled.

The conversation paused for a moment before Wei Jiayi opened his mouth again, asking slowly with some concern, “Did you get your leg checked this afternoon, President Zhao? How is it? You don’t need to be hospitalized?”

“No.” When this topic came up, Zhao Jing felt quite pleased with himself and told Wei Jiayi, “The doctor said it’s not a fracture, just a crack. I’m in good health—high bone density and strong muscles protect the bone. The crack is minor. According to the report, I just need to wear a brace for two weeks to keep it stable.”

Wei Jiayi warmly agreed, “That’s great. President Zhao is so strong.”

Zhao Jing gave an approving “Mm,” but then heard Wei Jiayi ask, “President Zhao, can you really drive an excavator?”

Zhao Jing frowned, picking up on the doubt in his tone. He emphasized, “Of course I can. Excavators, bulldozers, forklifts, loaders—I can operate all of them.”

Wei Jiayi looked stunned, his eyes widening. His voice became dry as he asked Zhao Jing in a daze, “…How do you know so many? Did you learn them specifically?”

Though the question seemed overly dramatic, Zhao Jing didn’t get angry. Suppressing his temper, he explained, “I liked construction vehicle toys when I was a kid, so my dad had a designer create a set of child-sized construction vehicles for me.”

He spent a whole summer playing with them and became so skilled that he dug up half the turf on his family’s golf course.

“…” Wei Jiayi was even more shocked. His mouth hung open for a long moment before he finally asked, “Isn’t there a difference when operating the kids’ versions? And you still remember how to drive them after all these years?”

Feeling increasingly displeased at having his abilities doubted, Zhao Jing retorted, “What difference could there be? Each vehicle was built to scale with full functionality. Besides, the controls are so simple I could operate them with my eyes closed. Once you’ve learned, how could you forget? Would you forget that one plus one equals two?”

“Sorry, that’s not what I meant,” Wei Jiayi quickly acknowledged his mistake, apologizing for his ignorance. He then soothed Zhao Jing, “I didn’t know there were child-sized construction vehicles. I guess I’m just not used to seeing something like that.”

Noticing his clueless expression, Zhao Jing raised his chin slightly. “It’s not just you. There’s only one set like it in the world. It’s in my museum now. I’ll take you there when we go back.”

For some reason, Wei Jiayi’s expression froze. After a moment, he replied, “Thank you. That really will broaden my horizons.”


Author’s note:

Other children’s talents: piano, chess, calligraphy, and painting

Zhao Jing’s talent: excavators

Comment

  1. Miompp says:

    “President Zhao is so strong” baHaHAHAHAHHAHAH Wei Jiayi talks to hime like he’s a 5 year old hahahahahhahahahahahahahah

    Thanks for the chapter <33333

  2. NicoM says:

    This book started good, the Ml (or is it the Mc?) seemed cold aloof and socially incompetent but at the same time mature, smart and serious. Why is he now this OTT, absurd and ridiculous idiot? He sounds like a parody. I prefer the cold bastard to this pampered, clueless useless manchild.

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