Chapter 180 Day 12 of Transmigrating into a True and False Young Master Novel

Chapter 180 The Twelfth Day of Transmigrating into a True and False Young Master Novel

Night.

An Yi finished washing up and stepped out of the bathroom with warm steam lingering around him.

He wore comfortable cotton pajamas, his hair half-dry, a few damp black strands stuck to his smooth forehead, softening his usual aloofness and adding a touch of domestic softness.

He used his power to dry his hair, just as his phone on the nightstand lit up and vibrated.

An Yi walked over, picked up the phone, and unlocked it with his fingerprint.

On the screen was a message notification from Yan Hui.

He paused for a moment, then tapped to open it.

It wasn't text, but a picture.

A... muscle photo.

The background was Yan Hui's bedroom, brightly lit.

The focus was on firm, sharply defined chest and abdominal muscles, fair, healthy skin, sweat trickling along the grooves of his muscles, exuding vibrant energy and intense masculine appeal.

The angle was clearly intentional, perfectly showing off the power and beauty of his body.

Immediately after, a text message followed:

"Yan Hui: Sorry, sent it by mistake. (Awkwardly scratches head.jpg)"

A few seconds later, another message popped up:

"Yan Hui: But... does it look good?"

Before An Yi could react, a third message came quickly, in a deliberately fake casual tone:

"Yan Hui: It's just that this bruise on the side of the ribs kind of kills the aesthetic, tsk."

After the text, there was an emoji that seemed helpless.

An Yi's gaze fell on the photo, and sure enough, near the lower rib area, he saw a small, distinct purple-red bruise, standing out against his taut skin.

Then, he saw Yan Hui's final remark, seemingly casual but transparently intentional:

"Yan Hui: Gu Xinou hits really hard."

An Yi: "..."

He stared at the screen, at the highly suggestive photo and those laughably clumsy "green tea" antics. He fell silent.

Silence filled the room for about five seconds.

Then, An Yi's slender fingers moved quickly and precisely across the screen—tapped the contact "Yan Hui," went to his details, scrolled down, and tapped the bright red option.

"Add to Blacklist"

"Confirm"

Yan Hui, still shirtless on the carpet, kept sending messages but saw a red exclamation mark appear next to his text.

Yan Hui: !!!!

He had been blacklisted by An Yi!!

Why?!

This contact was just added today!!

Comments section:

"Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!"

"The comment above is hurting my eyes!"

"Yan Hui: Showing off charm ~ An Yi: Rejected! (Old man on subway phone.jpg)"

"Yan Hui can flirt and act cute, Gu Xinou can't. This is Yan Hui's first win. Yan Hui: 1, Gu Xinou: 0. This is Yan Hui's second win... Yan Hui wins infinity!!"

"He's a damn genius!"

"What a legend!"

"What a stunner! (Thumbs up)"

"Stunner?? Drool~~ I just love stunners! (Wiping drool.jpg)"

"Gu Xinou can't fight, can't flirt, he might as well pack his bags and go home!"

"Gu Xinou! Go home, kid! Go home!"

"..."

An Yi: …

He couldn't help laughing.

----------

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the study, casting a bright patch on the dark hardwood floor.

Song Chengye had just finished a brief conference call and was about to sort through the papers on his desk when a soft knock sounded on the study door.

"Come in." he said without looking up.

The door opened, and An Yi walked in.

He wore a simple white shirt today, paired with black tailored trousers, his posture upright and his stride composed. The morning light fell on him, seeming to bathe him in a pale golden glow. His strikingly handsome face wore its usual calm expression.

Song Chengye thought An Yi looked much better than when he first came back.

It was as if he had become a completely different person.

Even though not much time had passed at all.

"Dad," An Yi, standing before the large desk, addressed him with a long-unused term: "Dad." His voice was clear, cutting straight to the point with no pleasantries: "I plan to start interning at the Song Group."

Song Chengye looked up, a smile appearing on his face as he put down his pen: "That's great, Xiao Yi. Which department do you want to start in? Dad can set you up with entry-level positions in the marketing or administration departments to get the lay of the land and gain some experience..."

But An Yi gently shook his head, cutting him off. His tone was steady, with an almost arrogant certainty: "No, I want to go directly into management, as Deputy General Manager of the Project Department, or an equivalent position."

He proposed not an intern position, but a genuine management role with decision-making power and jurisdiction.

This was an outright, blatant attempt to waltz in as a 'crown prince' parachuted from above.

Normally, he should start from the ground up, gradually earning everyone's trust, but he didn't want to—there was no need. He had ample experience managing a conglomerate.

The smile on Song Chengye's face instantly froze as he stared at An Yi, bewildered, as if he hadn't heard him correctly.

"...Xiao Yi, what did you say? Deputy general manager?"

He adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses, his tone with clear hesitation and caution: "Xiao Yi, it's not that Dad doesn't trust you, but... the Song Group's business is vast and complex, spanning many sectors. You've just returned and aren't familiar with the group's operations or the industry."

"Besides, traditionally, no matter who it is, entering the group requires starting from a basic position to understand the business processes. That's how you earn respect and better..."

If An Yi hadn't known the original story, he might have believed his bullshit.

He just fixed his unnaturally calm eyes on Song Chengye, until under his gaze, Song Chengye's voice trailed off and then stopped completely.

"Then..." An Yi finally spoke, his voice still gentle, "What position did you prepare for Song Xinghai?"

Song Chengye was momentarily speechless, as if something had choked his throat, and his complexion shifted slightly.

He had indeed already paved the way for Song Xinghai, planning for him to take on a managerial role in a core department of the group right after graduation, or even higher.

But that was because Xinghai had grown up by their side. He studied finance and management, often interned at the company during school breaks, was immersed in business, and had earned recognition from some of the group's elders.

As for An Yi... he had been estranged from the family for twenty years, his college major was computer science and technology, far removed from business management, with no relevant experience or background...

Song Chengye opened his mouth, wanting to break down these points and explain them thoroughly to An Yi, telling him it wasn't favoritism but a consideration based on the actual situation.

But looking at An Yi's expressionless face, those words of explanation got stuck in his throat, and he couldn't utter a single word.

An Yi let out a soft laugh and asked him, "Dad, do you know what people who judge others by status would do if you place Song Xinghai in a high position while I, the child who was just brought back, am at the bottom?"

This wasn't him being paranoid—it was something that had actually happened in the original story.

Song Chengye suddenly realized that any reasoning about "ability," "experience," or "earning respect" seemed hollow and meaningless in the face of the imbalance between his "biological son" and "adopted son."

The study fell into a suffocating silence.