Sickly Bigshot CH 26 The Attack
Translated by The BL Muse (ko-fi)
Apart from the desktop computer, Qin Yancheng's office also housed a laptop he frequently used. Shi Zhou, accustomed to typing on a laptop at home, immediately zeroed in on the latter.
Writing smut about Qin Yancheng on Qin Yancheng's own laptop—the mix of guilt, shame, and thrill was indescribable.
Under his fingers was the same keyboard Qin Yancheng's cold, elegant fingers tapped daily. Each key seemed to carry his faint, icy fragrance. And now, it was being used to type out content so shameless it couldn’t even be viewed without censorship...
Shi Zhou’s fingers flew across the keyboard as if the words typed from it themselves carried an extra layer of meaning.
Time slipped by unnoticed. Paragraph after paragraph spilled onto the screen. Shi Zhou giggled like an idiot as he typed, his tongue unconsciously flicking against his teeth.
No worries, Qin Yancheng won’t be back for at least four hours.
Conference Room.
The executives, well aware of Qin Yancheng’s poor health and his visibly weakened state today, dared not exhaust him. The meeting was compressed to a record two and a half hours.
Qin Yancheng dismissed everyone with a wave but stayed behind to review a few proposals.
Bai Ran reminded him, "President Qin, aren’t you heading back early? Mr. Shi is still in your office."
Qin Yancheng paused, then frowned. Left alone, Shi Zhou was absolutely capable of causing chaos. Better to return and check on him.
Qin Yancheng’s laptop was indeed different. The uniquely stimulating environment made Shi Zhou lose himself in his writing, his speed multiplying.
After finishing the day’s update, he casually posted it on Weibo, smugly rereading his work while debating whether to ride the creative wave and write more—
Then—
The door swung open without warning.
Shi Zhou’s lewd grin froze mid-face as he locked eyes with Qin Yancheng.
Even Qin Yancheng, ever unflappable, was momentarily stunned by the intensity of that strange and heated expression before his brows furrowed. "Who said you could use my computer?"
Shi Zhou jolted, his metaphorical tail puffing up like he’d been caught cheating in bed. He hastily schooled his features.
Thankfully, even in panic, his reflexes held. He swiftly closed the browser and deleted the file—just as Qin Yancheng strode over—
Shi Zhou’s heart pounded frantically!
Channeling twenty-three years of singlehood into his fingers, he permanently erased the Word file and emptied the recycle bin—
Click. The moment the mouse clicked Qin Yancheng snapped the laptop shut.
—Definitely no evidence left behind.
"I was just playing games!" Shi Zhou lied smoothly, vacating the chair. "Relax, I didn’t touch your files. Your trade secrets are safe."
Qin Yancheng silently reopened the laptop. He did trust Shi Zhou, and this computer held no sensitive data—his desktop handled that.
—But he also knew there was nothing inappropriate on it. Unless infected by malware, there shouldn’t be any adult content to justify that expression on Shi Zhou's face earlier.
He scanned the screen, checked the recycle bin, and ruled out the possibility of Shi Zhou downloading pornos in his workspace.
Shi Zhou watched Qin Yancheng check the laptop nervously, suddenly unsure if he’d truly wiped all traces. Could files be recovered?
Then again—was Qin Yancheng really suspecting him of corporate espionage?
"You only sent me to adopt hamsters to get rid of me!" Shi Zhou blustered, guilt fueling his outrage. "I told you I wouldn’t snoop! What kind of person do you take me for?!"
Bluster to cover panic. In his rush, he hadn’t been as thorough as he had wanted and Shi Zhou was not very certain about erasing all traces. This was his best shot at derailing further inspection by Qin Yancheng.
In the middle of his embarrassed stewing, his stomach chose that moment to growl loudly. It could be heard quite audibly in the silent office.
Qin Yancheng finally abandoned the inspection. "Hungry?"
Shi Zhou huffed, embarrassed.
Unbeknownst to Shi Zhou—still agonizing over his digital cleanup—the entire office was marveling at him.
Brother Shi's presence really makes a difference—President Qin actually left work two hours early today. Here's hoping he comes every day so we can escape earlier from the terrifying shadow of President Qin's oppressive presence.
Back home, Shi Zhou packed for tomorrow’s reality show flight.
Worry over Qin Yancheng’s health gnawed at him. After much deliberation, he finally said, "Qin Yancheng... maybe I should just cancel."
"Why?"
"I’ll, I'll miss you! Hehe, one day apart feels like three years." Shi Zhou dodged with oily charm.
Qin Yancheng watched him pack, also not reassured about his solo trip. Shi Zhou’s survival skills were appalling.
"I’ll hire you a new assistant."
Shi Zhou tilted his head. "Hey! I’m learning! Not everyone’s born knowing how to cook like you—did you sneak into culinary school or forget to drink Meng Po’s soup?"(TN: Meng Po, the goddess of oblivion, serves this soup on the Naihe Bridge, a pathway into the underworld. Drinking the soup allows souls to embark on their new existences unburdened by the weight of their previous lives).
"Learned abroad." Qin Yancheng replied lightly.
Shi Zhou’s mind conjured images of a younger Qin Yancheng destroying kitchens while following online recipes and couldn't help being amused.
For all his reticence and coldness, he wasn’t uninteresting once you got used to him.
"But why cook yourself overseas? I just hired helpers—"
Shi Zhou clamped his mouth shut.
Stupid! The real Shi Zhou was a penniless orphan from a mountain village—when had he ever studied abroad?
Qin Yancheng’s sharp gaze pinned him.
Shi Zhou breezed on, "I mean—rich people usually hire help, right? Wait, focus—I really don’t want to go! Qin sir, I’ll miss you!"
Qin Yancheng dismissed his dramatics thinking he was just joking around as usual, urging him to pack properly and not mess around.
Shi Zhou went to bed early.
Half-asleep, he felt someone tuck him in. Murmuring "brother," he snuggled deeper—then jolted awake.
His brother was gone.
He had died too.
Though he knew it likely wasn't possible, sometimes, he wished his brother had also transmigrated.
But wishes were just that. Shi Zhou lazily checked his phone for the time, recalling how he had used Qin Yancheng's laptop to write smut then froze—
Oh no!
He’d deleted the Word file but forgot to log out of Weibo on Qin Yancheng’s laptop!
No wonder his left eye had been twitching ominously.
If Qin Yancheng saw that...
The sheer horror of it made him want to bash his head against the wall.
Any lingering sleepiness Shi Zhou had was instantly scared away.
Maybe Mars was nice this time of year...
Wait, things were still salvageable.
Since Qin Yancheng hadn’t noticed earlier, the laptop was likely in his study now. Under cover of darkness, he could erase all traces and scrub the system clean.
The goal was clear, the laptop in the study down the corridor.
Shi Zhou jumped into action. Barefoot, he crept into the hallway—
When passing by the door of Qin Yancheng's room, he held his breath and attempted to walk past slowly, but after taking two steps, he heard Qin Yancheng coughing very violently.
It actually felt a little breathless, as if he was struggling for air.
Listening to this, even Shi Zhou felt bad for Qin Yancheng—he quickly decided to log out of his Weibo account, erasing any "incriminating" evidence, before heading in to check on him with a cup of warm water to soothe his nerves.
But just as he had the thought, a heavy thud echoed from inside, followed by Qin Yancheng’s labored, stifled gasps—each breath sharp and wheezing, like a broken bellows.
Something’s wrong!
His asthma—why now, of all times?!
Shi Zhou’s heart lurched into his throat. He spun around and rushed to push open Qin Yancheng’s door—
Locked?!
“Qin Yancheng! Open the door!” he shouted.
No response. Qin Yancheng was probably already incapacitated. Without wasting another second, Shi Zhou bolted downstairs and hammered on the housekeeper’s door.
Aunt Zhang opened it, bewildered by his panic and the fact that it was 3 a.m.
“Aunt Zhang—do you have a key to Qin Yancheng’s room?!”
“What’s going on? Only Mr. Qin has his room key. The other rooms—”
“Damn it! That idiot Qin Yancheng—why the hell would he lock his door?!”
Shi Zhou hadn’t expected the attack to hit so suddenly. Sweat dripped down his back as he sprinted back upstairs, grabbing his phone to call both the fire department to break down the door and emergency services.
Through the door, Qin Yancheng’s ragged breathing grew weaker, more strained.
Shi Zhou kicked the door with all his strength—BANG!—but the solid wood barely shuddered.
Fuck! Who locks their bedroom door at home?! And why the hell is this door so sturdy?!
The firefighters response time was actually faster than expected, but to Shi Zhou, every second stretched into an eternity. His hands trembled as he pressed against the door, listening helplessly as Qin Yancheng’s breathing faded—then nothing. He couldn't hear anything.
Clutching the inhaler, his palm slick with sweat, Shi Zhou cursed himself for not noticing the warning signs earlier at the office.
Sudden attacks like this could be fatal. He was extremely afraid because it was just like how his brother died.
He hadn't seen it happen, but his mind had conjured the scene in nightmares—waking in cold sweat, drowning in helpless despair.
The firefighters swiftly broke the lock. Shi Zhou stammered thanks before shoving past them into the room.
Qin Yancheng lay curled on the floor, fingers clawing at his chest, his face bloodless, lips tinged blue. His whole body shook with each suffocating gasp.
Shi Zhou hauled him upright, propping him against his chest, and shoved the inhaler into his mouth.
Qin Yancheng took two desperate puffs before his eyelids fluttered open to seemingly look at Shi Zhou but his gaze was hollow, unfocused.
“Qin Yancheng? Can you hear me?” Shi Zhou wiped the cold sweat from Qin Yancheng's brow, his own voice shaking from fright.
Qin Yancheng’s fingers twitched, then weakly closed around Shi Zhou’s wrist in an icy grip.
Relief flickered in Shi Zhou at this, it seemed he was still conscious.
Then—
In a sudden burst of strength, Qin Yancheng snatched the inhaler from Shi Zhou’s grip and smashed it against the wall.
The plastic shattered. Medicine sprayed across the floor.
Shi Zhou froze, staring in disbelief.
Qin Yancheng was very weak but his eyes were clear now—cold, detached—before he slowly closed them again.
And in that moment, Shi Zhou finally understood how the "White Moonlight" really died.