When a Bossy CEO Meets Gary Stu - CH 50

We’ve Got It! It’s a Baby!

Translated by boilpoil

Edited by boilpoil

Under the bright moon, climbing up the long slope, under the starry sky.

Every step is a new thump of his heart; every thump is plucking at his heartstrings; every pluck is an open flirt.

He is walking with steady steps. So steady, so steady that Murong Jihua could hear his breathing turn heavier and heavier even while He Jünle’s own breaths are as calm as ever.

——Much calmer than the day when Murong Jihua was rushing He Jünle to the clinic.

But hey… It was an emergency that day, right?

So Murong Jihua thinks and forgives himself.

He doesn’t want to admit it, but that aura of confidence from He Jünle that inexplicably soothes is something he appreciate a lot; he can faintly smell the fresh peppermint on him. It is fragrant, but by no means suffocating.

Quite different from his lethal dominating self on the bed.

While Murong Jihua is drunk in all but name to feel all sorts of things up, He Jünle is merely maintaining a smile on his grim expression without a word.

A knife hidden in his smile, or rather, endless knives (TL: To hide a knife in a smile is a Chinese four-character proverb)

Too bad that Murong Jihua cannot see it, given he has his eyes closed.

——Murong Jihua, after about eighty or hundred or so seconds of what felt like a nicely scented swaying hammock that was nonetheless sturdy, is thrown right onto the bed with his head dazed.

His nostrils are no longer enveloped in He Jünle’s freshness, but a stench that is much harder to describe.

It is the stench of home, that was buried deep within Yan Jihua’s memories.

‘Did the guy throw me into a chicken pen? What’s with the smell?’

And Murong Jihua quickly opens his eyes to try and feel the surface on which he was lying on.

Instead of the hay and chicken feather he pictured in his mind, it was merely a thin mattress.

Thank goodness it’s just a bed with a more down-to-earth smell and not some chicken pen or doghouse…

Though he definitely wasn’t expecting such a nostalgic bed after he has become a hundred-billion dollar CEO.

He Jünle isn’t hurrying into bed, meanwhile; he’s pacing and stopping about the room instead.

Murong Jihua goes ‘tch’ inside. It’s rare enough that the shaoye would sleep some place like this, he’d better wise up and come sleep with him soon.

Well, he could think that way, but he could never say that out loud.

So, he merely nudges to the side and pats the air by his body instead, speaking with a heavy nasal tone,

“He Jünle——Jünle——Le-gege——I’m so tired, come sleep. It’s so cold in the blankets alone. I can’t fall asleep.”

“What’s wrong with you,” He Jünle furrows his brows while saying, “I was checking just now. This house is at 75% relative humidity, that’s a bit much; the leftover scent of poultry and other animals is irritating. He hasn’t dealt with the furs and hairs properly either. Tch, what’s wrong with Chen Ergou——”

“A stickler for cleanliness, are we?”

“Nope, just worried a certain little spoilt shaoye would find this unacceptable.”

“You’re worried about me?”

“Still so drunk, aren’t you? Can’t you start using that love-addled brain of yours for something other than simple arithmetic?”

“You are worrying about me,” Murong Jihua makes a little chuckle and tugs on He Jünle’s sleeves, saying, “I’m not too drunk now, yeah, I can even get out and hold you up to spin around in circles.”

He Jünle raises his brow to ask, “what, no fighting or unbuckling our belts or biting our mouths or pushing and pulling today——Just hugs?”

He curls his index finger and thumb into a circle to knock at the childish-looking Peppa the Pig ring on the man’s finger, while mimicking the tone of Hong-dajie (TL: The lady from He Jünle’s gang) to say,

“Murong boy——How old are you this year?”

“Hey, last time I’m asking, don’t brush what this shaoye says aside,” Murong Jihua, very barely holding his poker face in place in He Jünle’s absurd performance, clears his throat to ask, “you’ve not gone inept already, have you?”

“…”

“Argh I can’t anymore (TL: Same characters as inept) Le-gege, everything I see is spinning clockwise right now. Hug me and spin anticlockwise three times, and after I’m cured, I’ll pay you three hug-circlings back?”

“… You said it yourself.”

“What a man has said,” (TL: Can never be taken back. Classic Chinese saying)

They spun.

Not just three rounds.

They puked.

Not just a little.

Murong Jihua, after throwing up, is completely knocked out, quiet as a quail, obediently sleeping without making a fuss.

He Jünle is going all behold_my_brilliant_plan.jpg

“Finally, a night without supervision or faking an applause for love, and still wouldn’t fall asleep to force my ultimate hand. What a sick fella you are.”

And they all had sweet dreams that night.

‘Bzzt——’; ‘cock-a-doodle-doo’

‘Bzzt——’; ‘cock-a-doodle-doo’

‘Bzzt——’; ‘cock-a-doodle-doo’

“…”

Under the double-whammy from a buzzing terminal and a crowing hen, Murong Jihua had to open his drowsy eyes up unwillingly.

He is no longer met by a cohort of beautiful maids and a butler dressed in black, but is instead inside a simplistic, serene farmhouse, with his dear rival-in-love sleeping behind him——All the signs of a distinctive morning to come.

Looking at the terminal – it’s 5:30 in the morning.

And butler Cui has sent his 108th message to him right now.

[Her Highness Elizabeth is here to visit for lunch]

Murong Jihua replies thusly, [We won’t make it in time. Offer her a dinner instead; I’ll quickly return to deal with it]

And then adds a [Treat her highness well; do not let Su Xiaomo interact with her in any way] for good measure.

・

Then he goes back to bed and turns around to have a comfortable sleep-in.

Though when he spins his body, he feels like he has come across something incredible.

He takes the object out.

Uh…

It’s an egg.

It was too dark and too late last night to notice, but, is this seriously actually just a luxurious chicken pen?!

Too widely awake now and feeling the throbbing pain from being hungover, the memories of last night slowly resurface.

——The culprit, He Jünle, sleeping soundly with his back to him merely makes him even more bitter inside. He sits up with an egg in one hand and shaking He Jünle with the other, while yelling out with the most sincere acting he has ever employed,

“He Jünle! We’ve done it! Look, you gave birth to a baby! It’s an egg!”