Please Don’t Doubt My Professionalism

Inside the Song family villa.

Song Jingchen walked into his usual study, not in the mood to meet any guests. Although he had outwardly rejected Nan Pei’s roses and credit card and scoffed at his words, he couldn’t help but feel a little concerned. 

Recently, Song Jingchen’s company had indeed encountered financial issues. He wasn’t sure how Nan Pei had found out—probably through some means of investigation. 

Thinking about this only made Song Jingchen dislike Nan Pei even more. He was like a persistent plaster that wouldn’t come off.

Song Jingchen opened his computer and carefully reviewed the recent data reports of the Song Group. He did find some issues with a few new projects, but they weren’t serious enough to affect the company’s overall operations.

“What am I worried about?” Song Jingchen muttered under his breath after checking the financial reports. “What does that guy Nan Pei know?”

In his pursuit of Song Jingchen, Nan Pei would say anything, which was a major reason why Song Jingchen disliked him. Just as he was about to shut down his computer and take a break, an email from his secretary, Candy, popped into his inbox.

Opening the message, Song Jingchen quickly skimmed through it. The gist of the email was that a subsidiary of the group had encountered a funding shortfall in its latest project.

After reading it, Song Jingchen was stunned.

This issue didn’t seem serious on its own, but combined with the financial loopholes he had just discovered, it could potentially trigger a chain reaction—one that might cause a break in the funding chain.

If Nan Pei hadn’t reminded him earlier, he might not have taken this email seriously. The Song Group wasn’t strong enough yet; if a funding chain break occurred, the internal structure of the group could collapse quickly.

Without hesitation, Song Jingchen called Candy, instructing her to notify the subsidiary’s executives and arrange an emergency video conference immediately. Being highly capable, he succinctly proposed a solution during the meeting and had his subordinates execute it without delay.

After dealing with the company’s issues, it was already dark outside. Song Jingchen could finally rest. He walked out of the study, intending to pour himself a glass of red wine—but was surprised to see a familiar figure by the pool through the floor-to-ceiling window.

Nan Pei was still there?

Under the moonlight, Nan Pei sat alone by the pool, gazing at the stars at a forty-five-degree angle, looking extremely sorrowful. Song Jingchen frowned. Although Nan Pei’s words had inadvertently reminded him and helped him avoid a funding crisis, he didn’t feel grateful. He knew it was just a coincidence.

By the pool.

“Host,” the system couldn’t help but ask curiously, “When did you prepare the warm pads?”

“When I went to the flower shop to buy discounted roses,” Nan Pei replied nonchalantly. “I bought some at the supermarket next door.”

The system praised, “You thought of everything.”

Nan Pei said, “Please don’t doubt my professional skills.”

Just then, the system suddenly said, “Host, Song Jingchen’s career line has advanced by 1%. This means he has started to pay attention to the company’s financial issues. However, the Song Group still faces many crises, so please continue to help Song Jingchen.”

Nan Pei’s efforts had paid off.

“I really am amazing,” he sighed, then stood up, hid the warm pads, and left the villa.

“It feels much better after taking off the warm pads,” Nan Pei remarked to the system before leaving. “I felt like I gained a pound just now.”

From the floor-to-ceiling window, Song Jingchen watched as Nan Pei’s figure—possibly thinned by the pool water—appeared pitiful under the moonlight. Song Jingchen withdrew his gaze, not intending to sympathize with this guy. After all, Nan Pei was always trying to coerce him into a relationship under the guise of giving gifts. It was just his own doing.

Not long after Nan Pei left, the Song family’s butler suddenly entered.

“Mr. Song,” the butler said to Song Jingchen, “Nan Pei stayed by the pool for nearly three hours today.”

Song Jingchen was taken aback and frowned. “Three hours? He didn’t have any issues?”

The butler, hearing this, took out the items he had retrieved from the poolside. Besides the soaked roses, there was a pile of warm pads.

“I found these in the flowerbed by the pool,” the butler said, handing the warm pads to Song Jingchen.

Song Jingchen looked puzzled. “What are these?”

“They’re used for warmth—commonly known as warm pads,” the butler replied.

Song Jingchen stared blankly at the items, suddenly seeming to understand something. The butler continued, “So, I think Nan Pei might have—”

Before he could finish saying “might have gone into the water with warm pads,” Song Jingchen interrupted.

“Is this also a gift he prepared for me?” Song Jingchen sneered, his tone disdainful. “Is he afraid I’ll get cold at the pool party? Giving flowers and cards didn’t work, so now he wants to give warmth? Throw them away. I don’t need them.”

The butler: “…”

⸻

Back home, Nan Pei took a hot bath, lay in the bathtub, and opened the system panel.

The panel displayed the career line progress of three novel protagonists, along with an assessment of the plot deviation. The career line was divided into four stages, each with different goals and increasing levels of difficulty. Completing the tasks for each stage would earn the host a reward from the system.

The plot deviation was represented by a gradient bar ranging from green to red, with green indicating no deviation from the original story track. When all progress bars reached 100% and the plot remained intact, the final task would be considered truly complete. At that point, Nan Pei would receive a chance at resurrection and a ten-billion reward.

Nan Pei’s first-stage tasks were:

Help the overbearing CEO solve the company’s financial crisis

Help the e-sports genius save the club from closing

Help the entertainment industry male lead land his first role

Each progress bar had an exclamation mark next to it. Due to insufficient luck, the three male leads could face difficulties at any time. When an exclamation mark lit up, it indicated that the novel’s male lead needed help.

Nan Pei had to fully utilize the novel’s plot, solving problems for the male leads as a devoted admirer.

Now, the overbearing CEO’s storyline progress bar had reached 1%, with the exclamation mark lit up. The other two storylines remained at 0%, with no alerts for now. The Song Group’s financial crisis wasn’t truly resolved. Tomorrow morning, there was still a “scene” between Nan Pei and Song Jingchen.

In the original plot, Nan Pei fell ill with a fever due to the water incident, and the Nan family forced Song Jingchen to apologize. Nan Pei wanted to use his illness to gain Song Jingchen’s affection, but it only made Song Jingchen think he was scheming—leading to even more dislike.

According to the system’s instructions, Nan Pei had to find a way to give the credit card he failed to deliver yesterday to Song Jingchen during this plot, to help him through the financial crisis.

Nan Pei thought for a moment, looking troubled. He said to the system, “The plot isn’t hard, but I’m not actually sick with a fever.” Not only did he not have a fever—he didn’t even have a runny nose.

The system wanted to say: With all those warm pads, you’re more likely to have heatstroke. Instead, it suggested, “Do you need me to provide a sickness service?”

Nan Pei blinked. “What’s a sickness service?”

“Turning the water in your bathtub into ice water,” the system replied.

“…Let’s not do that,” Nan Pei said quickly. He wasn’t about to make himself truly sick over Song Jingchen—he just wanted to complete the task with minimal effort.

But this wasn’t a difficult problem. He soon came up with a solution: pretending to be sick.

So, Nan Pei got out of the bathtub, opened a shopping app, and started buying makeup. He chose same-city delivery. The courier industry here was highly efficient, and the items arrived within an hour.

The next day, Nan Pei got up early and carefully applied makeup to make himself look sick.

The system asked, “Are you sure this will work?”

“I learned this in the film crew,” Nan Pei replied as he dabbed on concealer. “Please don’t doubt my professional skills.”

Twenty minutes later, the system looked at Nan Pei in the mirror, hesitated for a long time, and then tentatively asked, “Maybe you should try the sickness service…”

“It’s too late,” Nan Pei frowned. “What? Is there something wrong with my makeup?”

The system fell silent.

Nan Pei’s makeup wasn’t bad—it was just too realistic. So realistic that it was… exaggerated. For example, his lips were paler than someone who had been gone for three days.

To Nan Chengshuo and Li Ya, it looked like Nan Pei was burning up.

However, when Li Ya touched Nan Pei’s forehead, she immediately sensed something was off. Nan Pei didn’t intend to hide it from his parents and explained, “This is makeup. Yesterday, Jingchen Gege made me go into the water, and I want to pretend to be sick so he’ll feel sorry for me. Maybe he’ll start to like me because of it.”

“You silly child!” Li Ya was exasperated. “What’s so good about Song Jingchen? He humiliated you like that, and you still want him to like you?”

Nan Chengshuo agreed. “I’m telling you—Lujin City is so big. Why hang yourself on one tree?”

Nan Pei covered his ears, acting like he didn’t want to hear it. After they finished scolding him, he asked, “I came downstairs to ask if we have an IV stand?”

The couple, used to his stubbornness, exchanged a glance and showed helpless expressions.

⸻

On the other side, Song Jingchen was on his way to the company when he received a call from his family. After hanging up, he frowned, eyes full of impatience. A moment later, he slammed the steering wheel hard.

The same old trick! Always using family to pressure me!

“Nan Pei…” Song Jingchen gritted his teeth, clenching his fists. “When will I ever get rid of you?!”

After venting his anger, he took a deep breath, closed his eyes to calm down, and finally chose to turn the car around—heading for the Nan family villa.

⸻

Ten minutes later.

Nan Pei lay in bed, wearing pajamas. An ice pack rested on his forehead, an IV stand stood beside the bed, and a fake needle was taped to the back of his hand. He was bored, scrolling through his phone, waiting for Song Jingchen to arrive.

Soon, Li Ya knocked softly on the door, whispering, “He’s here.”

Nan Pei quickly hid his phone under the pillow, closed his eyes, and prepared his emotions.

After a while, footsteps approached—crisp and decisive.

They stopped in front of Nan Pei’s door.

Then, there were two knocks.

Nan Pei rasped weakly, “Come in.”

“Click.”

The door opened, and Nan Pei lifted his eyelids to see a tall man in a suit standing in the doorway, his expression somewhat gloomy.

Nan Pei’s eyes lit up. His weak voice was filled with surprise.

“Jingchen Gege, you’re here.”

Song Jingchen didn’t respond. His face was expressionless as he walked toward the bed.

Seeing this, Nan Pei quickly coughed a few times, trying to appear even more sickly and pitiful.

Song Jingchen lowered his gaze, and when his eyes met Nan Pei’s face, he couldn’t help but frown—surprise flashing in his eyes. He had the illusion that this guy hadn’t come out of the pool last night, but had been fished out of some ice lake in Antarctica.

Sunlight streamed in through the window, illuminating the boy’s face. His delicate features were pale, his lashes trembled slightly, and the usual arrogance was gone.

If Nan Pei hadn’t faked illness so often in the past to trick him into caring, Song Jingchen might’ve actually believed he was truly sick now.

Hiding his suspicions, Song Jingchen stared at Nan Pei, his expression unreadable.

“I heard you have a high fever,” he said, his tone devoid of concern.

“It’s just 39 degrees,” Nan Pei replied, fully immersed in his role. His eyes were slightly red as he said weakly, “Jingchen Gege, don’t worry… I’ll get better…”

Song Jingchen’s face remained unreadable as he studied Nan Pei’s expression. After a moment, he said noncommittally, “Is that so.”

Then, his gaze fell on the thermometer placed on the bedside table. He bent down to pick it up, intending to check Nan Pei’s temperature himself.

Nan Pei’s eyes widened, and he said, somewhat flustered, “Jingchen Gege, don’t you believe I have a fever?”

Seeing the shift in Nan Pei’s expression, Song Jingchen immediately realized something was off. He sneered.

“Why should I believe you?”

He didn’t have time to play along with this guy’s act.

Without another word, Song Jingchen pointed the thermometer at Nan Pei’s neck, moving swiftly and giving the latter no time to react.

“Beep—”

The thermometer beeped.

The next moment, Song Jingchen withdrew it, ready to confront the Nan family with hard evidence. But as he looked at the screen, he froze.

39.6 degrees Celsius.

His brows furrowed in confusion.

Nan Pei’s lips curled ever so slightly, but he quickly suppressed the smile.

The system couldn’t help but ask curiously, “Host, how did you do that?”

“I tampered with the thermometer,” Nan Pei replied smugly. “Please don’t doubt my professional skills.”

The system: “…”

It was the first time it had realized actors could be this professionally shady.

⸻

Author’s Note: Please water the plants. Love you all~