Mr. Pei! Don't force yourself into circles you can't fit into.

Shen Jicheng never realized he was such a good actor.

He unleashed his entire acting talent, lying on the bed with his head buried in the blankets, humming softly and tremblingly.

Even he himself was impressed by his own acting skills, and a little inappropriate pride even popped into his heart: Who said I can't do anything? I can act, can't I?

But by the end of the performance, his voice was almost hoarse, and he hadn't even received a response. He simply couldn't act anymore, so he sprawled out on the bed, buried his face in the pillow, and muttered a curse in a low voice.

"Pei Lin, what are you pretending for..."

He refused to believe Pei Lin hadn't seen the surveillance footage. But several hours had passed, and not a single person had appeared. How could this man be so patient?

Meanwhile, in another room...

Pei Lin leaned against the headboard, a cigarette between his fingers, the flame flickering, smoke rising in front of him, blurring half of his face. In his left hand he held the cigarette, and in his right, he slowly wiped the computer screen with a wet tissue.

The image on the screen was frozen on Shen Jicheng's face. He was lying on his side on the pillow, his eyelashes trembling slightly, and his lips were a little dry. Pei Lin used a wet tissue to wipe away the tiny speck of dust on the screen. In fact, the screen was clean; he was just wiping the area around the face.

After wiping, I reached out and tossed the wet wipes into the trash can beside me. The trash can was already half full, filled with crumpled wet wipes.

He seemed determined not to see Shen Jicheng, and also as if he was determined to teach that person a lesson. For the next two days, no matter how Shen Jicheng "acted" in the room, he did not appear.

Shen Jicheng's patience was gradually worn down.

He could keep up the act at first, but by the sixth day, he was getting a little restless. He tossed and turned all night and couldn't sleep soundly, often waking up suddenly in the middle of the night.

Pei Lin wasn't asleep. He sat on the balcony, a cigarette dangling from his fingers, watching Shen Jicheng through the screen, his eyes wide open in the darkness, his gaze fixed on some empty space.

He stared at it in silence for a long time.

On the seventh day, Shen Jicheng began to panic.

He was afraid Pei Lin would keep him locked up here indefinitely. He started making a scene, kicking over the food that was brought in, shattering the dishes all over the floor.

Zhang Xu reported everything truthfully to Pei Lin.

"President Pei... what should we do now?" Zhang Xu stood to the side, his tone cautious.

Pei Lin's gaze remained fixed on the screen for a few seconds before shifting to the photos in his hand. The photos were freshly printed, their edges still slightly warm.

In the photo, Shen Jicheng is surrounded by two women, laughing ostentatiously and unrestrainedly. On either side of him sits a man, shirtless, his abs clearly defined, his hands resting on them, his fingertips lazily tracing the grooves of his muscles. The lighting is dim, the wine glasses are crystal clear, and the atmosphere is incredibly ambiguous.

Pei Lin looked at the photo over and over again, his face expressionless.

"Continue." His voice was a few decibels lower than usual. "I want to see what his true side is really like."

Which one is the real him? Is it the one with a pitiful background, obedient and docile, who looks up at him and calls him "brother," or is it the one who is flirting and unrestrained, surrounded by women under the full moon?

Is it an innocent little lamb, or a big bad wolf in sheep's clothing?

Eighth day.

Shen Jicheng completely dropped the pretense.

He smashed everything in the room that he could, but these were all soft objects, none of them truly dangerous. Vases, ceramic cups, glass ornaments—anything with sharp edges that could hurt someone—were nowhere to be found, as if they had been taken away beforehand.

He was even angrier.

"Bang—"

With a loud crash, he kicked the wall-mounted television off the wall. He stood on the shattered LCD screen, the glass shards crunching under his feet. He roared at the security camera in the corner.

"Pei Lin! What kind of skill is it to keep me locked up like this! If you have the guts, let me out!"

No one cares about him.

The less anyone paid attention to him, the more agitated he became. He smashed everything else in the bedroom, cursing as he did so, from "Pei Lin, you bastard!" to "Fuck your grandpa!" from "Let me out!" to "If you have the guts, throw me into the sea! What's the point of keeping me locked up?!"

His voice echoed throughout the entire floor.

"Pei Lin! You idiot—!!"

Zhang Xu stood in the living room, barely daring to breathe.

The servants hung their heads, wishing they could shrink into a crack in the ground.

Silence reigned all around; even breathing was suppressed. The angry curses echoed down from upstairs, striking everyone's ears.

After an unknown amount of time, a very low chuckle suddenly rang out in the air.

Zhang Xu breathed a sigh of relief, and then he heard their CEO Pei say something in that casual tone.

"So being obedient and well-behaved was all an act..."

Zhang Xu didn't dare to reply.

Pei Lin's voice turned cold, and his knuckles tightened slightly. "I'd like to see how long he can keep up this arrogance."

The photos in his hand were crumpled into a ball, the edges wrinkled beyond recognition. The veins on the back of his hand stood out, and his eyes were as sinister as the sea before a storm.

He stared at the man jumping around on the monitor screen, a surge of inexplicable anger rising within him. Spending his money to seduce other men? Calling him "brother" all the time, yet living a life more carefree than him behind his back?

He hates philanderers the most.

But there's this one person who keeps jumping over his bottom line, what does he think he is?

You still dare to provoke him? Go ahead and throw him into the sea if you dare!

If he were to release the person, he might actually throw him into the sea.

On the computer, Shen Jicheng's cursing gradually subsided. Perhaps he had been cursing for too long and had exhausted his strength; his voice became hoarse and low, intermittent, like the last tremor of a string about to snap.

Zhang Xu lowered his head, preparing to leave.

Just then, a very faint sound came from the computer.

His voice was hoarse, tired, and slightly nasal, as if he was utterly exhausted.

"Pei Lin..." He paused for a moment.

"I want to go out..."

In the surveillance footage, Shen Jicheng was lying on the floor, his face turned to the side, tears streaming down his temples and into his hair.

Pei Lin gripped the photo tightly, his knuckles turning white.

He was silent for three seconds. Then he raised his head and spoke in a cold, hard voice.

What's the password?

Zhang Xu was stunned for a moment, not quite understanding: "Huh?"

Pei Lin's patience had run out, and his tone was clearly impatient. "The password to his room."

Zhang Xu then came to his senses, a subtle expression appearing on his face. "President Pei, didn't you say before that after I set the password, I should pretend nothing happened, and that even if you came to ask for it yourself, I couldn't give it to you?"