YMW CH 3

Domineering CEO article

Cen Wu deliberately lingered for a few more minutes to avoid seeming too eager. Once Xie Shangjing became distracted playing snooker, he quickly greeted a few people and pulled the protagonist away.

A black Bentley from the Xie family stood outside the clubhouse, rain streaming down its body and reflecting the stormy night’s streetlights.

“Second Young Master! Wait for me!” Red-haired Zhu Zijian hurried over in the downpour, bowing and scraping. “Second Young Master, let me hold the umbrella for you. This way—it’s closer to the car.”

Zhu Zijian’s uncle managed a minor role at one of the Xie family’s shipping companies. He shouldn’t have been mingling with this group of wealthy heirs, but his knack for causing trouble for Xie Guilan had won him favor with Cen Wu’s predecessor. That’s how he became the top lackey.

Xie Shangjing had a controlling nature. He had sent a car for Cen Wu, and even if he let him leave, he was surely watching from somewhere. So, Cen Wu didn’t refuse Red Hair’s offer to hold the umbrella and subtly glanced at the protagonist.

Xie Guilan, bleeding and pale-lipped, carried a school bag filthy with muddy footprints. His broken umbrella hung uselessly, several spokes snapped. He lowered his eyes, long lashes casting cold shadows.

Without a word, Xie Guilan folded up his dirty umbrella and walked straight into the rain, quickly getting drenched.

Cen Wu’s eyelid twitched. It felt like watching a “hate meter” skyrocket.

“Get lost,” Cen Wu snapped, wearing a cold expression. He snatched the umbrella from Red Hair and mimicked the predecessor’s tone. “Who told you to follow me?”

Then, arrogantly lifting his chin toward Xie Guilan, he ordered, “You… come here and hold this umbrella for me.”

It was supposed to sound domineering, but he stammered, losing half the intended force.

Xie Guilan didn’t resist. He walked over and raised the black umbrella, tilting it toward Cen Wu. Rain still soaked half his shoulder and back, but it was better than before. Under the downpour and the umbrella’s shadow, his cold expression looked even more somber.

Standing so close, Cen Wu could see the tense muscles and veins on Xie Guilan’s arm under the stark white streetlight.

Lean and powerful—somewhere between a boy and a man.

He could probably knock out three of him with one punch.

Cen Wu: “…”

This isn’t going to end well.

“Second Young Master, please.” The driver respectfully opened the car door as Cen Wu approached. But when he saw Xie Guilan’s soaked, filthy uniform, his face twisted in disgust.

Great. The protagonist held the lowest status in the entire Xie family.

Faced with so many people, Cen Wu’s hands grew cold and stiff. His pale complexion made his reddened eyes more noticeable, long lashes trembling. But he couldn’t show weakness. Xie Guilan was just a high schooler; he couldn’t defy the Xie family.

If Cen Wu faltered, not only would Xie Guilan suffer more, but if the original plot continued, Cen Wu would be doomed too.

“You,” Cen Wu said as he climbed into the car. Then he ordered, “Sit in the back with me.”

“Second Young Master,” the driver hesitated, “That’s against the rules, and he’s so dirty…”

Before he could finish, Cen Wu cut him off coldly, fingers pale against the car door. “Since when do you make the rules?”

The driver fell silent immediately.

Xie Guilan pursed his pale lips and lowered his head, following Cen Wu into the car.

Red-haired Zhu Zijian stood there, stunned. When the car finally drove off, he snapped out of it.

What the hell?!

Something was off about Cen Wu tonight. If he didn’t know better, he’d think Cen Wu was protecting Xie Guilan. What was Xie Guilan, anyway? Did he think he could replace him as Cen Wu’s right-hand man?

“You better pray I don’t catch you!” Zhu Zijian muttered furiously, storming back into the clubhouse.

Cen Wu had planned to take Xie Guilan to the hospital, but the driver was a Xie family loyalist and would surely report to Xie Shangjing. Instead, he grabbed the predecessor’s phone and texted the Cen family’s butler, asking for the family doctor.

As soon as he sent the message, the phone died. Cen Wu sighed, rubbing his cold hands together, staring awkwardly out at the rain.

The extended Bentley had a partition between them and the driver, who wouldn’t dare speak anyway. Silence filled the car, heavy and oppressive.

Halfway through the ride, Cen Wu noticed Xie Guilan had his eyes closed, seemingly asleep. Only then did he relax, hands unclenching.

He knew Xie Guilan must hate him but couldn’t gauge how much. It’s not like he had a “hate meter” to check.

Still, it would be nice to have a system or something.

But there was none. Just silence.

Fine. Who needs a system, anyway?

It would probably just give him anxiety. Besides, he had memorized the entire novel—all three million words. He knew every character’s line by heart.

Xie Guilan hadn’t actually fallen asleep. Once his frozen limbs regained some warmth, he opened his eyes and saw Cen Wu looking like a dimmed filament bulb, eyelashes lowered, their glow fading.

The backseat of the Bentley was spacious, yet Cen Wu huddled close to the door, clutching his backpack. His pale, slender fingers picked at the seatbelt, keeping a distance that could fit three people between them.

Knees neatly together, chin resting on his backpack, he squished his cheek into a small, snowy patch of flesh.

It was hard to tell who was bullying whom.

Xie Guilan smirked coldly to himself. What was this idiot pretending for? He had been so arrogant at the clubhouse.

Not that he cared.

He stared at his own hands, pale under the stormy night’s light, crisscrossed with whip marks and scabs. After a few seconds, his long, dark lashes lowered, hiding the fierce hostility beneath his eyes.

---

The Cen family’s manor wasn’t far from the horse ranch. The car headlights cut through the midnight rain, and soon they stopped outside the villa.

The moment Cen Wu stepped out, he saw a blurry black figure rushing toward the door. He jumped in fright, nearly bolting back into the car like a startled rabbit.

Only after calming down did he realize it was probably the butler.

“Young Master!” The elderly butler, dressed in a black tailcoat, dashed through the rain. “Young Master!”

Cen Wu: “…”

He knew it—he must’ve eaten some strange mushrooms!

Before Cen Wu could figure out what he’d consumed last night, the butler had already reached him, umbrella in hand.

“Young Master, why are you back so late?” The butler looked him over anxiously. “It’s pouring outside, and you didn’t answer your phone. How did you get hurt?”

“Dr. Lu is on his way. Let’s get inside first.”

When Cen Wu messaged the butler, he’d asked him to tell the doctor to bring extra bandages and medicine for wounds, inflammation, and fever. The butler assumed he was the one injured.

“I… I’m fine.” Cen Wu stammered. He couldn’t exactly admit he’d been out picking a fight.

So, he glanced over at Xie Guilan.

Xie Guilan had also stepped out of the car. His face was even paler than it had been at the ranch. The blood on his wounds had dried, leaving deep red marks on his hands. A dark bruise wrapped around his neck.

He’d been strangled with a riding whip and stomped on by Cen Wu. His Adam’s apple was swollen, each swallow painfully difficult.

Realizing the injuries weren’t Cen Wu’s, the butler relaxed. His meticulously combed silver hair stayed neat as he bowed slightly, leading them inside.

It was past one in the morning, but the servants hadn’t gone to bed. With nothing else to do, most were gathered in the hall. When the door opened, all eyes turned their way.

“…”

Cen Wu nearly stumbled backward, almost bumping into Xie Guilan. Steeling himself, he pushed forward.

The Cen family didn’t have many strict rules, but the original Cen Wu had a bad temper. Ever since realizing he wasn’t the real deal, he’d become even more paranoid, suspecting the staff of uncovering his secret. Any slight misstep, and he’d demand his parents fire them.

At first, his parents indulged him, but eventually, they caught on. After that, the original Cen Wu had stopped acting out.

Still, the servants remained cautious. No one dared sleep before this little tyrant returned home.

The villa was European-style, with dazzling crystal chandeliers and a dizzyingly extravagant spiral staircase.

Cen Wu’s head spun. He didn’t even know which floor the original’s bedroom was on. Spotting a maid, he said, “Aunt… Aunt Wang, c-could you… take my backpack upstairs?”

Aunt Wang broke into a cold sweat, thinking she was in trouble. But Cen Wu’s polite request left her stunned and flattered.

“Of course, Young Master,” she said, bowing and taking the backpack. “Right away.”

Cen Wu followed her slowly, trying not to reveal his nerves. If the family found out his soul had switched, they’d think he was insane and ship him off to a hospital.

Luckily, his parents weren’t home tonight. His older brother, ten years his senior, ran the family business and rarely visited.

Xie Guilan trailed behind, his cold expression unyielding. Water dripped from his hair and uniform onto the plush carpet, pooling at his feet.

The original Cen Wu’s room was a massive suite—almost absurdly so. He yanked open a door: study.

Another door: closet.

Yet another: another closet.

Cen Wu: “…”

Damn it. Rich people.

With Xie Guilan watching, Cen Wu felt his embarrassment deepen. He just wanted to find a towel for him, but it was turning into an ordeal.

He circled the room, face growing redder, finally finding the bathroom. By then, his blush had spread to his ears.

Xie Guilan: “…”

Xie Guilan’s Adam’s apple bobbed, his dark eyes fixed on Cen Wu. Under the scrutiny, Cen Wu’s legs began to tremble—social anxiety made eye contact torture.

Stop staring! What’s he looking at?

“Y-you… should… dry off,” Cen Wu stammered, shoving the towel at him.

Xie Guilan didn’t move, but the thick towel warmed his hands, chasing away the rain’s chill.

Cen Wu’s breath caught. He looked fine, but inwardly, he felt like he’d already died. Just then, the butler knocked. “Young Master, Dr. Lu has arrived.”

Cen Wu: !

Relieved, he rushed to open the door.

Dr. Lu had served the Cen family for over a decade, but this was the first midnight call. It felt like something out of a CEO drama.

But no dramatic rivalry awaited him—just tending to the Xie family’s illegitimate son.

Dr. Lu: “…”

So much for the plot twist.

Professional as always, he treated Xie Guilan’s wounds. Cen Wu handed him gauze and held the bloodied uniform scraps. The whip marks were so deep that the fabric had stuck to the wounds, needing careful cutting.

Cen Wu’s heart sank. Xie Guilan would never forgive him. Who could, after such humiliation?

“Second Young Master, the iodine, please,” Dr. Lu requested.

Cen Wu quickly handed it over.

Xie Guilan’s eyes darkened. Something was off about this idiot tonight. He’d expected to be crippled, not brought to the main house. Cen Wu’s gaze held guilt and hesitation.

What game was he playing now?

“Mr. Xie,” Dr. Lu said, handing him medicine. “Take these for a week. I’ll stay here tonight—come find me if you develop a fever.”

“Thank you,” Xie Guilan replied, voice cold and raspy, tinged with pain.

Dr. Lu packed up, following the butler to the guest room. Cen Wu whispered a quick thank you too.

Dr. Lu: “…”

What on earth? This “little master” had never been this polite.

---

Back in the room, only Cen Wu and Xie Guilan remained.

“…” Cen Wu’s lips moved, but words failed him. Finally, he muttered, “Are… you tired?”

“I-I’ll get… a blanket,” he stammered, nerves making his voice trip over itself.

He tended to stutter when he got nervous, unless he made a conscious effort to control it. But even then, it wasn’t very effective. Back at the stables, he hadn’t dared to say too much at once, afraid he’d blow his cover.

Xie Guilan’s face was pale. His mother, Song Lingwei, had just undergone surgery a few days ago. Leading up to the procedure, he’d been swamped for two weeks, and afterward, he’d spent several nights at the hospital, barely sleeping three hours a day.

He still had to attend school during the day, and then he’d been called to the stables that night. His body was exhausted to the extreme.

He had no idea what kind of humiliating trick Cen Wu was planning, but he didn’t have the power to oppose him. Even if Cen Wu suddenly slapped him now, he would have to bow his head and accept it.

“Second Young Master,” Xie Guilan swallowed down the metallic taste of blood in his throat and spoke in a hoarse voice, “Tonight was my fault. I shouldn’t have fought back. You can decide how I should apologize.”

The hospital would start morning rounds soon, and he needed to check on Song Lingwei. Plus, tomorrow was the last day to sign up for the chemistry competition. He didn’t care about winning, but the first-place prize of thirty thousand yuan would be enough to hire a caregiver for his mother.

He could only hope Cen Wu would let him go. Even if he had to kneel down and act like a dog, he would do it.

Cen Wu: “…”

He knew Xie Guilan didn’t trust him, but he really couldn’t let him leave tonight. Xie’s injuries were severe, and he worried that Xie might be summoned by Xie Shangjing again.

It was better to find something for Xie Guilan to do and keep him occupied.

Cen Wu finally moved. Xie Guilan’s expression remained impassive, but a flicker of mockery flashed through his eyes.

He knew Cen Wu wouldn’t let him go. Why bother pretending to care?

He braced himself for whatever trouble Cen Wu had in store. Instead, he watched as Cen Wu walked around the room, picked up a pile of workbooks, and slammed them down in front of him.

“You want to apologize, huh?” Cen Wu gave a villainous sneer. “Finish these… and you’re not allowed to leave until you’re done.”

If writing until his hands were worn out wasn’t a form of punishment, what was? At least it gave him an excuse when dealing with Xie Shangjing.

Xie Guilan: “…”

Xie Guilan: “?”

His deep-set eyes, dark and intense, were always filled with a cold, violent edge. Cen Wu shivered all over. Why did he look so fierce? Was he going to hit him?

He hadn’t even said anything!

Nervously, Cen Wu picked up the thickest workbook on top. Surely this would be enough, right? But when he looked up, Xie Guilan’s clenched fists still looked intimidating.

Cen Wu: !!!

“N-No, you don’t have to do it,” Cen Wu swallowed hard, his voice trembling.

Xie Guilan, who had been bracing for punishment: “…?”