Life countdown begins, ice queen bursts into security room

Song Siyi took off her black high heels and kicked them aside.

He reached behind his back, grabbed the zipper of the pencil skirt, and pulled it down a bit.

In front of Jiang Fan, she put on those thin black stockings on her toes.

With fingers hooking the edge, he slowly pulled upwards, covering a patch of fair skin with black.

Jiang Fan leaned against the edge of the table, his gaze following her hand upwards.

The black stockings ran up her calves, past her knees, and down to her thighs.

She straightened up and adjusted the hem of her pencil skirt.

"You're dressed."

Song Siyi looked up at him, her tone still carrying a hint of emotion.

Jiang Fan walked over and sat in the boss's chair.

My gaze dropped downwards.

Song Siyi understood that look in his eyes. She gritted her teeth, muttered "little rascal" under her breath, and slowly squatted down into the gap in the middle of the desk.

After half an hour.

Jiang Fan stood up, grabbed her waist with both hands, and lifted her up, placing her directly on the desk.

Song Siyi braced herself with both hands behind her back, causing several scattered documents on the table to be knocked off and fall to the floor with a clatter.

Jiang Fan's fingers slid up her black stockings.

Song Siyi turned her head away, biting her lower lip, her waist slightly responding to his movements.

The solid wood desk made a slight, rhythmic creaking sound.

An hour later.

[Gained Lifespan Points: 300. In-depth Discussion ×1]

Jiang Fan glanced at the panel at the edge of his field of vision; the earnings were the same as last time.

Song Siyi slumped on her desk, her chest heaving rapidly.

The stockings, which had just been unpacked, had a large, irregular hole on the inside of the thigh.

She propped herself up on the table, glanced down, took off her torn stockings, crumpled them into a ball, and threw them into the trash can next to her.

"Another pair ruined."

Jiang Fan straightened his clothes and fastened his belt.

"Let's go, I'll take you home."

Song Siyi bent down to put on her high heels, picked up her bag from the coat rack, and followed him out of the office.

It was late at night, and there were hardly any cars on the streets of Shanghai.

Song Siyi sat in the passenger seat, watching the streetlights recede outside the window, and remained silent for a long time.

"Jiang Fan".

"Um."

"I will definitely take Qitian Culture public."

Jiang Fan turned and glanced at her.

Song Siyi didn't look at him; her gaze was fixed on the road ahead.

"Don't complain that I'm meddling when the time comes," Song Siyi added.

The more you interfere, the less trouble I have.

Jiang Fan parked the car in the underground garage of the residential complex.

Song Siyi leaned against the passenger seat and looked at him sideways.

"Sleeping here with me tonight?"

"Um."

The elevator doors opened, and the two stepped out.

Song Siyi took out her keys, opened the door, and went inside. She casually hung her bag on the coat rack in the entryway and changed into slippers.

"I'm going to take a shower first."

She turned and walked towards the bathroom, her figure disappearing around the corner of the corridor.

Jiang Fan walked to the living room sofa, sat down, and took out his phone.

The screen displayed a message sent by Li Cheng.

"Brother Fan, all the workers at the printing plant have been contacted, and we'll start work tomorrow morning. The paper and ink suppliers have also been contacted, and they'll deliver the goods tomorrow morning."

Jiang Fan typed a few words back.

"Well done. I'll have General Manager Song go to the factory to oversee things tomorrow, you can take a rest."

After sending the message, he tossed his phone onto the coffee table.

The sound of running water filled the bathroom.

Jiang Fan sat for a few seconds, then stood up and walked over.

Pushing open the bathroom door, a wave of heat hits you.

Song Siyi was standing under the showerhead. Hearing the noise, she turned around, protecting herself with her hands.

"Again?"

"Let's shower together to save on water bills."

Jiang Fan ripped his shirt off his head and threw it on the sink.

Song Siyi leaned back half a step, her back pressed against the tiled wall.

Jiang Fan stepped into the shower room, reached his arm through her waist, and pulled her over.

Song Siyi's palm rested against his chest.

Aren't you tired?

"Not tired."

Song Siyi raised her arms and climbed onto his neck, water flowing down their shoulders at the same time.

In the cramped bathroom, the sound of water drowned out all other noises.

-

The next morning, in Shanghai, at the headquarters of Qidian.com.

Zhang Hong pushed open the vice president's office door. His forehead was covered in sweat, and his face looked pale.

"Mr. Zhou, someone at the industrial park has taken the order from Qitian Culture."

Zhou Mingzheng was signing the document with his head down when his pen stopped.

"Who? Didn't I tell you to contact all the factories? Who would dare take their jobs at this time?"

Zhang Hong swallowed.

"Not those factories."

"Who is that?"

"Jiang Fan bought one himself."

Zhou Ming slashed the pen in his hand, drawing a long black line across the document.

Say it again.

"He bought Hongda Printing, a nearly bankrupt company in a suburban industrial park. It cost over 50 million yuan; he acquired it entirely."

The office was silent for ten seconds.

Zhou Ming knew that Hongda Printing Factory was a long-established, large factory in Shanghai with complete equipment. It was put up for sale because the owner was a gambler.

Zhou Ming slowly leaned back in his chair.

He went to great lengths, using funds and connections to block the printing plant, all to prevent the physical publication of "Journey to the West".

The other party didn't even bother to talk to him; they just paid 50 million in cash to buy a factory.

Where did Jiang Fan get so much cash?

Even for someone like him, who started as a vice president, if he wanted to use ten million in cash, he would have to hold three meetings and go through five approval processes.

This is not normal business logic at all.

Zhou Ming picked up the cigarette pack on the table, took out a cigarette, and lit it.

"He's a complete lunatic," Zhou Ming cursed.

-

Hongda Printing Factory was officially renamed Qitian Printing Co., Ltd.

The machines were running at full capacity, and new books, still smelling of fresh ink, rolled off the production line.

In the large conference room of Qitian Printing.

Ten thousand newly published books were laid out on the conference table.

This is a limited edition item signed by Jiang Fan.

Jiang Fan sat at the conference table, holding a black marker in his hand.

Song Siyi stood to the side, responsible for turning the book to the title page and handing it over.

Jiang Fan took it and flicked his wrist.

The two characters "Jiang Fan" landed on the paper with such force that they seemed to penetrate the paper itself, the handwriting bold and unrestrained.

After signing one book, he tossed it to the right. Song Siyi took it and handed him the next one.

When he reached the 1,000th sign-in, Jiang Fan stopped writing and shook his wrist.

"Are you tired?" Song Siyi asked.

"Not bad. Continue." Jiang Fan switched to a new pen.

After signing in for the two thousandth book, Jiang Fan slowed down, and the inside of his right index and middle fingers were rubbed red by the pen.

Song Siyi put down the book she was about to hand over.

She walked behind Jiang Fan.

"Take a break."

She stretched out both hands, placed them on Jiang Fan's shoulders, and squeezed them hard.

After massaging his shoulders, she moved her hand down Jiang Fan's arm and grasped his right wrist.

Press your thumb on the web between his thumb and index finger and gently massage.

Jiang Fan leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and enjoyed her massage.

At 11 p.m., only half of the books had been signed in, about 5,000 books.

Jiang Fan threw down his pen, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes.

His right hand was almost numb, and his fingers were stiffly bent.

Song Siyi called in a few workers.

Workers pushed carts, packed the autographed copies, and sealed them in boxes.

Then they were shipped out box by box, mixed into the regular shipments, and the order was disrupted.

Half an hour later, Song Siyi stood by the window, watching the last logistics truck drive out of the park gate.

She breathed a sigh of relief.

Six million copies sold, and they survived a two-week ordeal.

She turned to look at Jiang Fan.

"Want to grab a late-night snack? My treat."

"My arms are sore, I can't hold chopsticks." Jiang Fan looked at her. "You can feed me when we get back."

Song Siyi didn't refute, and picked up the car keys on the table.

"Come on, little brat. Go back and your sister will feed you."