Chapter 68: SOS! Help!

On the backseat of the car, Ling Ziheng, who had just finished his vocal training, leaned his head against his hand, browsing through company documents related to the Ling Group’s operations in China. His expression grew grimmer by the minute, like a block of ice freshly taken from a cellar, exuding a coldness that chilled the air. In the passenger seat, Pei Xi kept glancing nervously at his young master, his heart in constant turmoil.

“This proposal lacks a proper understanding of the market and is short on feasibility. The real economy is shrinking, yet there’s still value to be found. Pei Xi, send this back and have the marketing department rethink it,” Ling Ziheng pinched the bridge of his nose, his face severe, his tone so icy that it sent a shiver down one’s spine.

“Yes, sir,” Pei Xi replied, making notes while responding with trepidation.

There was no doubt in his mind that the young master was in a foul mood today. By his reckoning, things should have gone smoothly with Director Lin yesterday. Could it be… the young master was rejected?

Impossible. Something must have happened yesterday.

He surreptitiously took out his phone and messaged a WeChat contact:

Pei Xi: Could you find out what your boss was up to yesterday?

A minute later, the reply came slowly:

Nanyu Little Angel: Why should I help you snoop… Do I look that idle to you?

Pei Xi: One week’s worth of milk tea.

Nanyu Little Angel: Deal!

“Pei Xi,” Ling Ziheng’s voice carried a note of exhaustion.

“Young master, should we return to the studio or go home to rest? It’s nearly lunchtime,” Pei Xi inquired cautiously.

“To the company,” Ling Ziheng replied coldly, his tone brooking no argument.

“Yes, sir.” Pei Xi immediately signaled the driver to turn the car around and quickly typed a message in the company group chat:

The King of Hell is coming—everyone to your posts.

Within seconds, the group chat exploded:

So much for the good days…

Damn, the King of Hell is back so soon.

Guess we’re working overtime this week!

Chief Steward, how many casualties today, do you think?

Pei Xi didn’t dare look further at the plaintive complaints flooding the company chat. Though the young master rarely visited the office in person, he never missed a single video conference. The group’s assets in Country A were still managed by the old man, but those in China were already under the young master’s control, and in recent years, business had been flourishing. They no longer needed to rely on support from Country A.

His methods were ruthless—hence the nickname, King of Hell. In all these years, only he had accompanied the young master, treading carefully with every step, always keeping a wary eye on that distant yet ever-watchful rival. Maintaining the status quo was no easy feat.

But today’s atmosphere was especially terrifying. Pei Xi was convinced it had something to do with Director Lin.

The moment Ling Ziheng stepped into the Ling Group building, the solemn mood in the lobby spoke volumes.

Mingli, the receptionist, had begun nervously tidying her appearance the moment she saw the notice in the group chat. She still remembered how, in the early days, learning the CEO was also a popular movie star had left her so excited she couldn’t sleep for days, dressing to the nines in hopes of catching his eye as he entered.

But that icy gaze, when it swept past her, nearly suffocated her. The film star she knew was nothing like this—on screen, he was charming, gentle, and romantic.

The illusion shattered instantly—here was the King of Hell in person, not a hint of a smile, his whole being radiating an untouchable and forbidding aura.

In the conference room, Marketing Director Zhang Zhen paced nervously, sweat beading on his brow. He knew their hastily-prepared proposal was far from perfect, but time was short and the market had just been thrown into a whirlwind of change.

He’d assumed the boss would simply scold them via video call as usual. Who could have guessed that today, in a foul temper, the King of Hell would come in person? His life was surely forfeit.

“Big Head Zhang, stop pacing around. You’re making me dizzy,” Sales Director Li Kuang pulled him down into a seat.

“Mind your own business,” Zhang Zhen retorted.

“Wandering won’t help. He’ll be here soon. Live or die, we’ll know soon enough,” Li Kuang waved a hand in resignation.

As they spoke, the conference room doors swung open. Ling Ziheng, dressed in a black suit, strode in, his cold and decisive aura instantly commanding the room as he took the main seat.

The room fell silent; no one dared even breathe heavily.

Today, Ling Ziheng had swept his hair back, revealing a pale, strikingly handsome forehead. The sharp lines of his black suit accentuated his tall, well-proportioned figure. His flawless features offered not a trace of warmth, and the aura he exuded was both magnetic and menacing. As his dark gaze swept across the room, everyone’s heart skipped a beat, bracing themselves for the coming storm.

“Let’s begin,” his voice, deep and resonant like a cello, filled the space.

Zhang Zhen swallowed hard, sweating profusely, wanting to speak but unable to utter a word.

“Boss, based on the situation in my sales department, the new product on the market does have the following issues…” Li Kuang, at least, remained composed. What must come, would come; better to address it head-on.

Ling Ziheng listened intently, occasionally shifting his posture.

“At least someone here is using his brain,” he remarked after Li Kuang’s report, his mouth curling briefly before his gaze shifted. “What about you, Manager Zhang?”

Zhang Zhen, already uneasy, stammered, “We… our marketing department did some research and found that online channels are better for boosting sales, so… so…”

“So you skipped the industry data comparison and handed in a report without using your head?” Ling Ziheng’s voice was frosty and laced with severity.

Zhang Zhen froze in his seat, drenched in cold sweat and glancing desperately at Pei Xi for help. The other department heads all kept their heads down, not daring to speak.

“What do the rest of you think?” Ling Ziheng leaned back elegantly, tapping his pen rhythmically against the table.

Each tap sounded as though it struck at the very nerve of everyone present.

Pei Xi watched as the temperature in the room seemed to plummet to subzero. With everyone throwing him pleading looks, he feared someone might faint from fright if this continued. He quietly slipped out of the conference room to seek help.

At that moment, Lin Zhiwei was deeply engrossed in her work when she answered the phone absentmindedly. “Hello?”

“Director Lin, help, SOS,” Pei Xi whispered desperately.

“What is it?” Lin Zhiwei frowned, puzzled.

“The young master is here in person, right now… he’s cutting everyone down left and right. Everyone’s on edge.”

“So what am I supposed to do?” Lin Zhiwei stopped her pen, bewildered.

“Director Lin, please, help us out. It’s not easy for anyone here. Maybe… maybe you could ask the young master to lunch, chat about the variety show you’re working on, and help… distract him. We really can’t hold out much longer,” Pei Xi pleaded.

“Would that even work? If he’s angry and I approach him, won’t he just slaughter me?” Lin Zhiwei was dubious.

“If you just use a gentle tone, or act a little coy, I’m sure it’ll work. After all, the young master specifically asked you to help. Honestly, things are brutal here—saving a life is a blessing,” Pei Xi urged.

After hanging up, Lin Zhiwei still doubted the plan’s feasibility. The crux was—acting coy… she didn’t know how.

Maybe she should search online for how women act coquettishly?

If she were asked to do martial arts, shooting, or a triathlon, she’d be fine—after all, under Lin Qiongjiu’s rigorous training, she’d mastered all those. But coquettishness? She hadn’t unlocked that skill at all.

Still, Pei Xi’s final words made some sense. Building up good karma—perhaps it would bring her luck when she needed it most.