Wei Feng was completely disheveled, staring at the three dazzling characters on the white paper, with his mouth agape for a long time. Their esteemed President, high and mighty, was actually writing a self-critique! With such a focused and serious demeanor, I can't help but wonder, Boss, are you really still my Boss?
With a lift of his eyebrows, Han Luoli's half-closed deep eyes took on displeasure, "Why, do you want to write one too?" What a ridiculous expression, showing such lack of experience.
"Boss..." See, see, he must've been snubbed by Miss Gu and that's why he's in such a bad mood.
The man paused his pen on the paper, finished a line, then shook his head in dissatisfaction. Massaging his brow with one hand, he tossed the white paper into the trash can.
Damn, how exactly do you write a self-critique?
Wei Feng watched with trepidation as his boss's handsome face turned a shade of greenish black. Moments later, he heard the deep and unquestionably harsh voice, "A five thousand-word self-critique, handwritten, by this afternoon."
Even though he was not good at writing, referring to a few examples should do the trick.
"..." Why is it always me who gets hurt?
Wei Feng left the office with a glum face, only to hear the president suddenly ask behind him, "Do you know who Lubao is?"
Uh, when did the Boss start taking an interest in celebrities...
"Lubao is a super-popular idol in the entertainment industry, an all-rounder in acting, music, and television. With his handsome and bright appearance and gentle, amiable personality, he's widely adored by everyone, from three-year-old children to eighty-year-old grannies."
The corner of Han Luoli's forehead twitched—so that means his Luoli also likes this Lubao, huh? His face turned even darker as he spoke in an ominous tone, "Find out his schedule, and book an appointment for me."
Wei Feng, dumbstruck, nodded his head and once again left the president's office in disarray.
Returning home, Gu Xiaoer suddenly remembered that she had left Ai Le on the street, and only after calling and sweet-talking did she manage to coax the person. Feeling a pang of guilt in her heart, it was all because of men! Curses to male beauty!
What she didn't know was that, actually, she herself was the crucial point. Back in school, when she was being pursued by Su Jiaxuan, she had already made many people envious and jealous—Yang Xue was just one of them. And now, she had someone as exceptional as Han Luoli looking after and cherishing her, which was enough to make anyone green with envy.
But only this little fool was unaware, still complaining about how men were a nuisance.
At the entrance of Yaxi Garden stood a woman, draped in loose, baggy clothes. Her disheveled hair seemed untended and was starting to knot.
She looked up at a window above, her face pale as paper, dry and hoarse. Underneath the baggy clothes, her fingers were tightly clenched, veins showing prominently. After staring for a solid ten minutes, her dull and lifeless eyes suddenly shot out two beams of malicious light, and with much effort, she squeezed out the words, "Gu Xiaoer, die!"
...
The night was deep.
Gu Xiaoer slept restlessly, feeling uncomfortable, as if she couldn't catch her breath, a strange odor invading her nostrils, causing her to turn uneasily and cover her head with the blanket.
But even this did not ease her discomfort; it worsened, leading to a sense of suffocation, and for a moment her brain even ceased to function—a sign of oxygen deprivation...
In the silent and empty villa, Han Luoli frowned as he continued to write his self-critique. Xiao Er had said, only when he submitted the self-critique could he see her. Unable to hold the beauty in his arms, he could only rush through the self-critique, striving for an early release.
The man added a final stroke to the last character with his pen, pleased with himself. Only when he was certain it was a flawless "self-critique" did he elegantly cap his pen and put the documents into a folder.
He stood up and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window. Outside, the sky started to show the pale light of dawn. His handsome features softened, and he turned and walked briskly towards the garage.