Chapter 22: An Sheng Takes Charge Today—Don

Is anyone here?

If no one’s here, I’m gluing everything!

An Sheng kicked open the boss’s office door, a weird grin on his face as he walked in holding a plastic bag.

In the boss’s office at Gaofeng Consulting, there was a three-meter solid wood desk, a tea table opposite it, and a display cabinet for teapots.

Handmade zisha teapots—I like those.

An Sheng took out 502 glue from the plastic bag, grinning as he dripped it into the spout of the teapot, then casually glued the lids of the three-part gaiwan tea sets in the office too.

When An Sheng entered the boss’s office, he didn’t smash and wreck things like before.

Instead, he thoughtfully dripped two drops of glue into the spout of every teapot in the display cabinet.

The value of zisha teapots lies not only in their craftsmanship but also in their collectibility and practicality.

If the spout doesn’t pour water smoothly, what practical value is left?

But An Sheng was cunningly cruel—502 glue isn’t permanently staining; you just need to heat the teapot to slowly remove the glue.

The value of zisha teapots varies depending on the maker’s reputation and craftsmanship.

Any teapot displayed in that cabinet was worth several thousand yuan at least—collectible items.

An Sheng dripped glue on every zisha teapot, aiming to torment without breaking the law.

Didn’t Gaofeng Consulting love pulling nasty stunts in Yu Xueqing’s father’s livestream?

Didn’t they spend their days hopping around Yu Xueqing’s father’s livestream, causing trouble?

If they had nothing better to do, An Sheng would give them something to do!

They liked posting color links in the comments and reporting Yu Xueqing’s father’s livestream—so An Sheng sent color links to all their clients.

Originally, An Sheng planned to scout the place, then bring a bunch of protected animals into Gaofeng Consulting and get them reported.

But then he thought again—fines alone wouldn’t fix these bastards.

Since he didn’t need to work for money, he might as well drag this out and see who outlasts whom.

“Oh right! Don’t forget the door lock.”

After gluing the teapots, An Sheng ran behind the office computer tower, unplugged the power cord, coated it with a ring of 502 glue, then loosely reinserted it.

Then he found the safe storing documents and smeared glue all over the keychain with a smug grin.

“Hehe.”

An Sheng twisted open the remaining glue and dumped it onto the boss’s breathable seat cushion, eagerly imagining tomorrow when Gaofeng sat down and got stuck to the chair.

After finishing his setup, An Sheng flicked his fluffy tail, strutted out in a gangster dance step, and hummed a tune as he left.

As he exited, An Sheng politely closed the door behind him to prevent thieves from breaking in.

“Ying ying ying—”

An Sheng returned to Lao Chen’s bike basket and waved at him.

Lao Chen, smoking with a blank stare, hadn’t noticed his cigarette had burned out, nor had he noticed the fox had come back—he just kept staring.

Only when An Sheng spoke did Lao Chen snap out of it, smiling bitterly:

“My lucky fox, Master! Please be careful in there—they might call the police!”

An Sheng shrugged, waving his hand: “Ying ying ying.”

Police?

Tomorrow they’ll be scrubbing teapots until their hands give out.

I wonder if thick Vinda tissues plus glue can clog their toilets all day.

As An Sheng left, he suddenly remembered the water dispenser in Gaofeng Consulting’s office.

He thought: maybe get two packs of laxatives, combine them with completely blocked toilets, and deliver a full combo attack.

And hide some steel wool to clog their car exhaust pipes while they’re not looking.

……………

On the way home.

When An Sheng reached Lin Ying’s house, he bid farewell to Lao Chen.

Lao Chen trudged home, exhausted—he was nearly retired, a middle-aged man who’d cycled from two a.m. to four a.m., barely holding on.

But he’d already decided: after getting home, he’d nap a bit, then take his wife to Changle Street for breakfast tea.

Where’s Changle Street?

Funny enough—it’s right across the intersection from Gaofeng Consulting.

…………

“Sister Lin? Are you asleep?”

An Sheng slipped into Lin Ying’s house and saw the cold, untouched meals still on the island counter.

He rushed to the master bedroom, ready to drag Lin Ying out for dinner.

The props he borrowed from Lin Ying hadn’t been used after all.

But he remembered her kindness.

Naturally, he’d look after his neighbors—his and Qing’s future in Kulinan depended on her.

“Hm!?”

As An Sheng pushed open the master bedroom door, he caught a faint odd smell.

Among the scents, there was a tinge of blood.

“Shit!”

Identifying the source, An Sheng’s fur bristled instantly—he sprinted to Lin Ying’s bed and yanked off the blanket.

As the blanket flew open, the heavy metallic smell of blood filled the room.

An Sheng panicked, whirling around to see where Lin Ying had cut herself.

But when he looked, he saw Lin Ying curled up, her wide eyes—bloodshot but startled—fixed on him.

An Sheng froze, letting out a confused, questioning “ying.”

Lin Ying looked as pale as ever; even with the AC blasting, beads of cold sweat the size of rice grains covered her forehead, her lips blue.

Yet as An Sheng pressed his front paws against her thighs to pry open her curled arms, he saw no wounds—yet the blood smell was strong.

“Ying.”

An Sheng stared silently at Lin Ying, his fox face visibly flushing with embarrassment.

Oh right—he’d forgotten women have periods.

For a few days each month, a bloody scent is normal.

And for someone like Lin Ying, lying around like she’s dying, with no routine at all, cramps are expected.

“Ying ying ying.”

An Sheng’s gaze drifted away; he subtly extended his tiny paw, spreading the pads like a blooming plum blossom, then used his toe gaps to lift the blanket back up.

He gently re-covered Lin Ying with the blanket.

“No, I don’t want to eat today—I feel like vomiting.”

Lin Ying, seeing the fox, reluctantly lay back on the pillow, raised her arm to cover her sweat-drenched forehead, and shook her head, her face pale and bluish.

Before, she’d been hungry but too lazy to move or want food.

Now, she wasn’t hungry at all—she felt nauseous from the intense pain.

“Come on, sis! Say something! How am I supposed to handle this, a lifelong virgin?!”

“I forgot women have periods—now what the hell am I supposed to do for you?!”

An Sheng paced frantically, watching Lin Ying’s face—she looked like she was about to pass out from pain.

An Sheng felt completely paralyzed.

Periods were a foreign concept to An Sheng.

“Right! Look it up on Lin Ying’s phone!”

“Damn it! Tell her boyfriend to make brown sugar water! I’m going to hell—brown sugar water? She’s about to pass out!”

“Call an ambulance—I can’t even speak human!”

(End of chapter)