The next morning, when Lu Chen once again stepped into the familiar yet oppressively hostile open office of Sales Department A at FeiChi Group, he felt like a lamb intruding upon a den of wolves—instantly drawing the ravenous gaze of every "hungry wolf" around him.
After yesterday's harrowing "showdown" with the landlady, Mrs. Liu Guifang, and his deep contemplation of the cost and potential of the "Hunting Heart Chart," Lu Chen still felt waves of indescribable fatigue and a dull throbbing at his temples from the drain on his mental energy. Yet his eyes shone brighter than ever before, glimmering with a near-mad, do-or-die resolve.
He knew his time was running out. Both the landlady's final ultimatum—vacate before 5 PM the next day—and Wang Hai's earlier threat ("Finish that Hongyuan Heavy Industry order by month's end or you're out!")—which, it seemed, Wang Hai was no longer even willing to wait for—hung above his head like twin swords, ready to fall at any moment.
He had to strike first.
No sooner had he settled into the icy corner of his desk—his "tractor-slow" computer humming before him—than the aggravating buzz of Zhao Yuhang's voice swarmed his ears like an unwelcome fly.
"Oh, look who it is—the indestructible cockroach of FeiChi Group, Mr. Salesman Lu!" Zhao Yuhang swaggered up, waving a steaming cup of imported Blue Mountain coffee like a trophy. "Heard you got ripped a new one by Manager Wang yesterday, but look at you, still have the nerve to show your face today. I thought you'd have packed up your bedding and rolled out of Star City by now! Man, you've got thicker skin than the city walls!"
His cronies tittered behind him, eyes full of contempt and schadenfreude as they trained on Lu Chen.
Lu Chen didn't lift an eyelid. He silently retrieved the dossier on Jiang Wanxing he'd prepared the night before. The best weapon against petty bullies was utter indifference—any reaction would only encourage them.
At that moment, the glass door swung open, and the corpulent form of Wang Hai entered like a plague god, precisely on schedule.
He spotted Lu Chen bent over his files and, for a fleeting instant, showed the slightest flicker of surprise—he hadn't expected Lu Chen to dare return today. But that shock quickly melted into a dark, malicious delight. Clearing his throat, he boomed in a voice meant to carry to the farthest cubicle:
"Ah, Lu Chen… Since you're still a rookie, I'll overlook your failure to finish the 'New Voyage Plan' printing task yesterday—and give you another chance. But some people are just hopeless—no matter how much you give them, they spit on your generosity!"
With that, every head snapped toward Lu Chen.
Wang Hai basked in the collective attention, offering a grandiose, fake smile. "However, I'm not completely heartless. Director Shen has always told us to look after our subordinates and give young talents opportunities. So, after careful consideration, I've decided to grant you, Lu Chen, another… exquisite opportunity to redeem yourself and prove your worth!"
He paused for effect, then dramatically pulled a hefty manila folder from his bulging briefcase, slamming it onto Lu Chen's desk with a thud that sent dust motes dancing in the slanted sunlight.
"This," Wang Hai sneered, pointing at the folder, "is the special dossier on our most important—and most… troublesome—VIP client: President Jiang Wanxing of Wanxing International."
The name "Jiang Wanxing" landed like a hammer blow. The office fell into a deathly silence. Colleagues who had been whispering moments before froze, jaws agape, eyes wide with shock.
Even Zhao Yuhang's bravado crumbled at the mention of those three characters. His grin stiffened, and he instinctively recoiled, a flicker of genuine fear passing over his face.
Jiang Wanxing! In the sales department of FeiChi Group, her name was taboo—a specter that struck dread into even the most seasoned sales veterans.
Delighting in the stunned hush, Wang Hai lowered his voice to a dramatic purr. "President Jiang… she's no ordinary woman. As for her beauty—fisher of moons, caster of flowers—even those words don't capture one ten-thousandth of her allure. Her figure… like a perfectly ripe peach that sets your blood ablaze with a single glance. A pity…"
He shifted, his tone dripping with feigned regret and a trace of sadistic pleasure. "A pity that this delicate rose has thorns colder than millennia of ice, cunning sharper than a nine-tailed fox, and depths darker than the abyss. Rumor has it, any man who crosses her path either falls at her feet, ensnared by her overpowering presence and peerless beauty, or is ruthlessly crushed by her merciless business tactics—bankrupted, humiliated, not even knowing how they met their end!"
As he spoke, Wang Hai's lecherous smirk and suggestive gestures carried an illicit undercurrent that had some of the more timid female colleagues blushing, while the men around him leaned forward, eyes gleaming with carnal fascination.
Xu Tingxia's normally pale face had drained of all color; she bit her lip, her large, tear-bright eyes filled with terror and an unspoken despair. She had chosen a light-blue, cinched-waist dress that morning; now, beneath the desk, her slender legs—encased in sheer stockings—trembled restlessly.
Lu Chen's heart plummeted. Though he'd braced himself after last night's research, hearing Wang Hai's lurid embellishments—steeped in lewd fantasy—made him realize just how terrifying this woman truly was.
Watching Lu Chen's ashen expression and the silent dread rippling through the office, Wang Hai's grin widened. He resumed in that same condescending tone, relishing every word: "Recently, President Jiang has been outraged over alleged 'quality defects' in our products, which she claims jeopardized a crucial international partnership. She's threatening to halt all cooperation and demand massive compensation! I've already sent several senior sales experts—even Manager Zhang from Group B—but each one came crawling back, mumbling apologies after barely seeing her, then got verbally eviscerated."
"Therefore," Wang Hai said, jabbing a finger at Lu Chen, each syllable a punch to the gut, "the company is entrusting you—our 'most exceptional' and 'most promising' sales talent—with one last, glorious opportunity to save us from ruin! Your mission: placate President Jiang, resolve all disputes, convey our most heartfelt apologies, and persuade her not only to drop her compensation claims but also to sign a tailor-made VIP strategic cooperation contract worth no less than thirty million for the next quarter."
He dragged out "most exceptional," "most promising," and "VIP strategic cooperation contract," each phrase dripping with cutting irony.
"Given the task's Herculean difficulty—and to show how much faith I place in you," Wang Hai added, waving three nicotine-stained fingers, "I'm granting you… three days."
"You have three days," he repeated, lowering his voice to a cold whisper, "to win her favor and seal that thirty-million deal. Succeed, and I'll wipe your slate clean—including yesterday's printing fiasco—and personally recommend you for promotion to Director Shen. Fail, and I'll escort you to HR myself to have them stamp your file in bright red: 'Incompetent, dishonorable conduct, causing major losses—never eligible for rehire!' Mark my words: not just in this industry, but anywhere in Star City, you'll never find a decent job again. You'll be begging under overpasses or returning to that backwater hometown to scrape by!"
Each word was a poisoned dagger, and the office fell into an even more suffocating silence. All eyes stared at Lu Chen with a blend of morbid anticipation and cold detachment, convinced this was the end of the line for him.
Silently, Lu Chen reached out and lifted the ice-cold folder labeled "VIP Client Dossier: Jiang Wanxing." He didn't need to open it to imagine the litany of former sales stars who had been broken by this woman.
He said nothing. Instead, he slowly raised his head and met Wang Hai's triumphant gaze with eyes rimmed in red—eyes unnervingly calm, even touched by an uncanny serenity, as though some new force had taken hold within him.
Caught in that unwavering stare, Wang Hai's smug expression flickered for an instant with inexplicable unease—only to be quickly drowned once more by his own sadistic pleasure.
"Do your best, young man," Wang Hai said, patting Lu Chen on the shoulder with a force that felt like a hammer blow, then turned on his heel and strode back to his private office, as if he could already savor Lu Chen's impending downfall.
The open-plan office sank back into an eerie quiet. But now, behind the undisguised glee and cold indifference in his colleagues' eyes, there lay a faint, almost pitiful pity: as though they believed Lu Chen's fate was sealed in humiliation and tragedy.
Sat at his desk, Lu Chen let his fingertips trace the embossed letters on the folder: "VIP Client – Jiang Wanxing." Sunlight filtered through the vast glass windows, casting a dance of shadows across his face—twisted by anger and shame, yet strangely serene, as if some new resolve had taken root.
At last, he opened the folder. The first page bore Jiang Wanxing's official portrait: a woman of thirty-seven or thirty-eight, sporting a sleek shoulder-length bob. Her brows were finely arched, her eyes sharp and imperious, as though she could peer straight through a person's soul. Her lips, painted a vivid scarlet, were pursed into an arc of seductive aloofness. She wore a perfectly tailored black suit that made her skin appear milky pale, her aura commanding—like a deadly mandrake blossom perched atop a snow-capped peak: beautiful, enchanting, but utterly lethal.
Lu Chen's gaze lingered on that photograph for what felt like a lifetime. Then, without warning, the corners of his mouth curled into a silent, almost feral smile—an expression of quiet madness and eager anticipation.
Wang Hai's conspiracy, Jiang Wanxing's challenge… and, within his mind, the mysterious, boundless power of the "Hunting Heart Chart."
Everything—absolutely everything—had suddenly become… infinitely more intriguing.