The interior of the sales office was lavishly decorated, with gleaming marble floors stretching throughout and a massive crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. The walls were adorned with intricate designs.

  At the center of the hall stood an enormous miniature model of the Bailiu Academy, exquisitely crafted. To the right was a reception area furnished with rosewood tables and chairs, genuine leather sofas, and a projector screen—everything one could need.

  As soon as Fang Xiu stepped inside, several colleagues in professional attire turned their gazes toward him. Upon recognizing him, their expressions shifted subtly. After all, they had all seen his resignation message in the work group chat.

  Fang Xiu ignored their stares completely and walked through the sales hall, his attention fixed on the psychiatric hospital’s office area. For him, nothing was more important than uncovering the secrets of the supernatural.

  At that moment, a young man in a professional suit hurried over—Zhao Hao, the one who had called him earlier. He had an ordinary appearance, a somewhat thin build, and wore thick black-framed glasses. In a hushed, anxious tone, he said, "Xiu-ge, why are you only arriving now? Wu Dahai is furious! Maybe you should—"

  Before Zhao Hao could finish, Fang Xiu cut him off. "Ritian, we’ll talk later."

  Zhao Hao's given name, "Hao" (昊), was composed of the characters for "sun" (日) and "sky" (天), so Fang Xiu had always jokingly called him "Ritian" (日天). The current Fang Xiu decided to maintain his predecessor’s habit.

  "Xiu-ge, you—"

  Ignoring him, Fang Xiu strode away, heading straight for the second floor of the sales office.

  The psychiatric hospital’s first-floor office area didn’t have a director’s office, so he needed to check the second floor.

  Zhao Hao watched Fang Xiu’s retreating figure and let out a heavy sigh before quickly following. He assumed Fang Xiu was going to confront Wu Dahai about the money and wanted to prevent the situation from escalating.

  Upon reaching the second floor—which also corresponded to the psychiatric hospital’s second-floor office area—Fang Xiu barely had time to search before an enraged, hurried voice rang out.

  "Fang Xiu! How dare you show up for work? You’re already fired, don’t you know that?"

  A middle-aged man in a black suit and white shirt stormed over, his pudgy finger jabbing accusingly at Fang Xiu. He was balding, pot-bellied, and radiated fury.

  The second floor was the sales office’s workspace, and Wu Dahai’s outburst immediately drew the attention of colleagues sitting at their computers. Most wore expressions of schadenfreude, eager to see Fang Xiu and Wu Dahai argue—or even fight. Wu Dahai was widely disliked for his harsh treatment of subordinates. While they didn’t dare defy him themselves, they relished the idea of someone else doing it.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  But the expected confrontation never came. Faced with his boss’s tirade, Fang Xiu remained utterly expressionless. Without wasting words, he grabbed Wu Dahai’s shoulder and shoved him aside, striding forward without a second glance.

  Wu Dahai, though overweight, was out of shape. Caught off guard by Fang Xiu’s sudden push—something the formerly meek subordinate would never have dared—he staggered and nearly fell, barely catching himself on a nearby desk.

  "You—you pushed me?! Have you lost your mind?!" Wu Dahai’s face flushed red with shock and fury. The sidelong glances from his colleagues only deepened his humiliation.

  "Outrageous! Absolutely outrageous! Security! Where’s security?!"

  Wisely, Wu Dahai didn’t try to physically confront Fang Xiu. Not only would he lose, but as a manager, brawling with a subordinate would be career suicide. Fuming, he continued shouting while calling for security.

  Fang Xiu paid him no mind. Under the bewildered stares of onlookers, he circled the area before heading toward the sales office’s third floor.

  The director’s office wasn’t on the second floor.

  "Fang Xiu, you’ve got some nerve, shoving me like that—" Wu Dahai’s rant abruptly cut off as his expression twisted in alarm. "Where the hell are you going?! Who said you could go to the third floor?! Get back here!"

  He jabbed a finger at a few gawking colleagues and roared, "What are you idiots standing around for? Stop him!"

  Reluctantly, the employees stood, but Fang Xiu had already vanished up the stairs.

  At the sight, Wu Dahai’s face cycled through shades of panic before he hastily waved them off.

  "Never mind, forget it. I’ll handle it myself."

  Wheezing, his bulky frame heaving, he hurried after Fang Xiu.

  Wu Dahai seemed unusually tense, as though something incriminating lay on the third floor.

  Fang Xiu stepped onto the third floor, his gaze immediately locking onto a door in the distance labeled "Director’s Office." He strode toward it without hesitation. Behind him, Wu Dahai panted heavily as he gave chase.

  In reality, Wu Dahai didn’t realize Fang Xiu was heading for the director’s office. All he saw was Fang Xiu making a beeline for the very last office at the end of the hall. His face drained of color.

  "Fang Xiu, get back here!"

  *Click.*

  The office door swung open.

  A man’s furious cursing and a woman’s startled shriek spilled out, followed by the frantic rustling of clothes.

  Wu Dahai’s face went deathly pale.

  "It’s over. Everything’s over."

  In a panic, he tore at his white dress shirt, ripping off two buttons before bolting toward the office. When he burst inside, he saw Fang Xiu standing motionless, staring straight ahead.

  Before him was a luxurious desk. The laptop and documents that should have been on it were now scattered across the floor, replaced by a half-dressed man and woman.

  The man was lean, with sunken eyes and an unhealthy pallor, his pants halfway down his legs. The woman had a curvaceous figure, wore heavy makeup, and was dressed in a professional skirt with sheer black stockings—now torn in several places—her high heels missing.

  Fang Xiu’s gaze was fixed on the woman’s stockings—or more precisely, the parchment lying beneath her on the psychiatric hospital director’s desk.

  "Who the hell are you?! Who let you in?!" the man bellowed, hastily pulling up his pants.

  The woman clung to him like a frightened bird, using her clothes for cover.

  Fang Xiu recognized them both. The man was Wang Ziteng, the son of the developer behind Bailiu Academy. The woman was Li Feifei, the sales office’s top-performing agent—and the most attractive among the female staff.

  Since Bailiu Academy’s sales team was directly managed by the developer, Wang Ziteng was technically the boss’s son—Fang Xiu’s ultimate superior.

  "Wu Dahai! Didn’t I fucking tell you no one’s allowed on the third floor?!" Wang Ziteng screamed.

  "Young Master Wang, please calm down! Fang Xiu’s gone mad today! He attacked me, then barged up here without saying a word. I couldn’t stop him! Look—he even ripped my brand-new shirt! I’m useless, I’m old, I just couldn’t hold him back!" Wu Dahai groveled, his face a mask of fear and apology.