In the sterile, cold-toned office, a heavy silence pressed down, thicker than the dust that never settled. Sha Hao sat at his desk, a man carved from ice, his jaw tight, thin lips a rigid line. The chill in the air was not merely from the air conditioning; it emanated from him, a raw, almost palpable dread. A few men in sharp suits stood before him, heads bowed, trembling slightly, their very breaths held captive in their chests, fearing to disturb the suffocating quiet.

Sha Hao pinched his wildly throbbing temples, the familiar ache a jarring sensation against the unfamiliarity of his surroundings. Wasn't he dead? The thought echoed like a sinister whisper in the silent room. A flash of memory, violent and searing, cut through his mind—the screech of tires, the shattering glass, the ultimate darkness. His eyes, once glazed with confusion, hardened into chips of obsidian. He was back. A second chance, or a cruel jest of fate?

“Get out.” The word, devoid of human warmth, sliced through the tension. To the men, it was a reprieve, a golden melody in the grim silence. Overjoyed, as if granted amnesty from a death sentence, they stumbled out, their hurried footsteps echoing down the corridor. As the door clicked shut, sealing them away from the source of their terror, they finally exhaled, a collective sigh of relief.

“Don't you think President Sha's aura has become… increasingly terrifying recently?” one man whispered, his voice barely a tremor. Another shivered, pulling at his collar. “I almost suffocated in there. It’s like he can steal the air right out of your lungs.” A third, attempting levity, quipped, “He’s a walking human air conditioner factory. Forget the AC; just stand near him, and the company could save on electricity bills.”

Suddenly, a figure appeared at the end of the corridor, moving with quiet precision. The man opposite them saw the arriving person first, his eyes widening in a silent warning. He coughed, a dry, strained sound. “What’s wrong? Sore throat?” one of the others asked, oblivious. The man’s eyes darted frantically. The other two finally turned, their laughter dying in their throats as they found themselves face to face with Assistant Lian, who had appeared as if from the very shadows.

The three stood frozen, a palpable embarrassment settling over them. Assistant Lian’s gaze was indifferent, yet it held a silent, unnerving judgment. “Watch your words,” he murmured, his voice low, before he stepped past them and entered President Sha’s office. One of the men wiped a bead of cold sweat from his forehead. “You don't think he’ll… tattle on us, right?” The reply was a hesitant shrug. “Shouldn't, I guess….”

Inside the office, a gloomy, cold chuckle escaped Sha Hao’s lips. In his previous life, he had been foolish, letting them all escape justice. Now, Heaven had granted him this impossible rebirth, and he would not make the same mistake. Every single one of them would pay. The thought brought a chilling satisfaction, a promise whispered to the vengeful ghosts of his past. But there was another shadow, a persistent nuisance from his previous existence.

He recalled Xia Yue, a ghost of her own, clinging to him like chewing gum, shaking her off a futile battle. A flash of impatience, almost disgust, flickered in Sha Hao's eyes. If only he had reincarnated a few days earlier, the binding contract, a chain linking him to her, would not have been signed. After a moment of dark contemplation, he picked up a pen, adding a supplementary contract, clauses stark and unforgiving, before handing it to Assistant Lian.

“Give this to Xia Yue. Have her sign it.” He paused, then added, his voice eerily calm, “If she’s willing to sign, give her an extra million per month.” Money, he knew, solved problems that could be solved with money. Compared to this meager sum, what he feared more was Xia Yue’s unrelenting clinginess, a memory that still sent a shiver of revulsion down his spine. Assistant Lian looked at the contract’s contents, his composure almost breaking. The clauses were… peculiar. But as an assistant, the most important thing was to do more and question less. He pocketed the contract, then, and only then, began to discuss the day’s pressing business.

***

Having “accidentally” offended a popular celebrity’s fans under Jian Brother’s dubious guidance, Xia Yue found herself devoid of any jobs, effectively canceled, and relegated to the confines of her luxurious apartment. She spent the entire afternoon sprawled on the sofa, mindlessly playing games, the silence of the large space a constant companion. When she finally stretched, the city outside had dissolved into a glittering canvas of night, the lights flickering, distant and watchful.

On her way out, she noticed a unusual amount of activity in the company building. Many people were working overtime, their faces drawn. Xia Yue, ever one for gossip, listened in. Apparently, a male artist from the company had been caught in a scandal, sleeping with a female fan and now facing blackmail. The truly scandalous part? He already had a high-profile girlfriend in the industry. Xia Yue tsked, a theatrical shake of her head. “Chastity is a man’s greatest dowry,” she mused. “A man without virtue does not deserve to be wanted.”

Her driver, Uncle He, was still waiting for her downstairs. She found it odd that he hadn't left all afternoon. Feeling a pang of something akin to guilt, she told him, “Next time you can do your own thing, no need to wait here for me.” Uncle He merely smiled, a knowing glint in his eyes. “I'm your dedicated driver, Madam. My duty is to serve Madam 24 hours a day.” Xia Yue suppressed a sigh. She once again marveled at her cheap husband’s generosity. Theirs was a contract marriage, a fragile agreement of convenience, yet he afforded her all the appearances, all the trappings of a genuine wife. It was almost unsettling.

She didn't get home until after 8 pm. Assistant Lian had been waiting for a while, a shadow in the dim light of her foyer. He had expected her to be home, settled in, not out… working? The thought, oddly, improved Assistant Lian's impression of her, if only marginally. From “neurotic” to “hardworking neurotic.” Hmm, perhaps not that much better. Seeing no one else around, Assistant Lian took out the ominous documents. “Please take a look at these clauses. If there is no problem, you can sign. President Sha said an extra million will be given per month.”

Xia Yue, who had initially intended to meticulously read every word, paused. “One million.” The words echoed in her mind, a siren song. Without a second thought, she snatched the pen and, with a flourish, signed at the blank space below. Assistant Lian stared, visibly shocked. “Aren't you going to read them first?” he stammered. Xia Yue waved a dismissive hand, a bright, almost too-bright smile on her face. “I trust President Sha! No need to read!” Firstly, she knew Sha Hao was a man of his word, a man who paid his debts. And one million extra per month? That was an offer impossible to refuse. That averaged to two hundred thousand shocking her awake every morning! Many people didn't even make that much in a year. Why would she ever fight with money?

Assistant Lian, still looking complicated, insisted, “You should still take a look.” Only then did Xia Yue bother to carefully read the supplementary agreement. “1. Except out of necessity, do not approach within three meters of Party A.” She hummed. No problem. Not just three meters, even thirty meters was fine. “2. Except out of necessity, all physical contact is prohibited.” Xia Yue’s eyebrows shot up. “???” She looked at Assistant Lian, a bewildered expression on her face. “Don't these two clauses repeat each other? Since we can't get within three meters, how could there possibly be any physical contact?” She wasn’t even three meters tall.

Assistant Lian coughed lightly, his own confusion barely masked. He, too, found these additional clauses… very strange. What followed further elaborated on the necessity for her to ‘know her place,’ not deliberately get close to him. “Once in breach,” the clause concluded, “he had the right to terminate the agreement.” Terminate the agreement! The words struck Xia Yue like a physical blow. Her heart skipped a beat. If terminated, the money would be gone! That was a full two hundred million, vanished into thin air! She clutched the agreement to her chest, her face now a mask of earnest determination. “Please relay to President Sha,” she practically pleaded with Assistant Lian, “that I will definitely memorize these clauses thoroughly, reciting them every morning after I wake up, to constantly remind myself and keep to my proper place.” Assistant Lian merely blinked, wondering if such dedication was genuine, or another layer of the enigma that was Xia Yue.

“She really said that?” Sha Hao’s voice, a low rumble, cut through the phone line. “Noted.” After hanging up, Sha Hao casually picked up a towel, slowly drying his damp hair. Having just gotten out of the shower, his body still emitted faint wisps of steam, only serving to sharpen his already precise brows and intense eyes. For convenience, he often lived in a studio apartment near the company building, a spartan existence reflecting his focused, almost obsessive nature.

He had to admit, Xia Yue’s response did surprise him quite a bit. Recalling what happened in his previous life, the relentless pursuit, the suffocating presence, Sha Hao felt Xia Yue should be plotting something far more insidious, something grander. At this thought, a subtle suspicion tightened its grip. He sent a cryptic message to the housekeeper, a silent directive, before immersing himself in his work, the late-night hours his chosen battlefield.

While some burned the midnight oil, lost in the intricate dance of power and revenge, others slipped comfortably into dreamland. Having finally obtained a second life, Xia Yue was determined to treasure it, to nourish herself well. So, by 11 pm, she was already tucked in bed, ready to surrender to sleep. The time between 11 pm and 2 am, she had learned, was when the liver detoxified. Proper rest during this critical period was paramount. Xia Yue walked the talk, her dedication unwavering. The first thing she did after getting up the next day was to read through the agreement, firmly imprinting it in her mind. This, she knew, directly concerned the bliss of the latter half of her life, a comfortable existence bought with silence and distance.

Next, she washed up and applied her skincare, a ritual of self-care. Coincidentally, Xia Yue’s looks were identical to her previous life’s. This striking resemblance was also why she had so readily adapted to her new identity. She felt a strange, almost eerie bond between her old self and this new one. What followed were days filled with eating, drinking, pampering herself, and indulgent beauty treatments, easy days slipping by like liquid gold. A few days later, her skin had indeed become more supple and tender, a testament to her relaxed routine.

Remembering her sick little brother hospitalized, a genuine pang of concern, or perhaps a flicker of a past life’s duty, prompted Xia Yue to visit him. The poor child lay pale-faced on the bed, yet he was extremely well-behaved, addressing her as ‘Sister Yue’ with an affection that melted her heart. With a sweeping gesture, almost regal, she moved him to a premium suite and hired a special caretaker, ensuring his comfort, before quietly leaving.

Days turned into a week, swift and blurring. Her skin became more luminous, her aura more vibrant. However— Xia Yue pinched her soft tummy. Had she gained weight? She frowned, a worried crease forming between her brows. “Uncle He,” she asked, her voice laced with concern, “have I gotten fatter?” The corner of Uncle He’s eye twitched. Eating and sleeping all day long, it would be strange if she hadn’t. But to directly tell the young miss would surely be hard for her to accept. Also, he did feel girls looked better with some meat on them.

Uncle He carefully replied, a subtle smile playing on his lips, “You were too thin before, Madam. This is just right now.” Xia Yue sighed, a dramatic exhalation. So, she really had gotten fat. Looking at the table full of delicate cuisine, she painfully swallowed. “Ask Sister Zhi to make me some diet meals.” She paused, then, with a flicker of defiance in her eyes, added, “Nevermind, let’s start tomorrow instead.” She clenched her fist in her heart, a silent vow echoing: she must work hard to lose weight starting tomorrow! Uncle He smiled, shaking his head gently. Ever since Madam’s arrival, a strange but undeniable liveliness had replaced the coldness that once permeated the household. A mysterious warmth, or perhaps, a chilling undercurrent, had settled in.