Chapter 10: Decisive and Unflinching

Ding-dong—

The doorbell rang.

Ma Weimin opened the door to find a sweet, innocent-looking girl, who spoke with the peculiar accent foreigners have when speaking Chinese and bowed, saying, “Sorry to disturb you, is this your clothing?”

“It’s not mine.” Ma Weimin shut the door.

Wait, could it be mine?

Why would the clothes he entrusted to Ni Feihong end up in her hands? Did she rent out his clothes? He reopened the door and said, “They are mine. Please return them to me.”

“Hi.”

Meishu handed him the clothes, bowing again. “Mr. Neurotic, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Damn.

She must not want to keep her job. How dare she, a nobody, call a wealthy man “Neurotic”?

But Ma Weimin no longer cared to argue with the poor. Their imaginations were limited, so they thought he was eccentric. He found them rather pitiful, quite shabby.

Meishu, nervous and unsure of her Chinese, raised her hand to cover her mouth, worried she’d said something wrong. She bowed awkwardly again. “I think I made a mistake. I didn’t mean to call you ‘Neurotic.’ Please forgive me.”

Ma Weimin replied, “I don’t help nobodies. Nobodies must rely on themselves to rise above.”

Meishu bowed once more. “Please forgive me. My Chinese isn’t very good, and our boss Hong always calls you ‘Neurotic,’ so I didn’t make the switch in my head.”

That nobody… How dare she…

Ma Weimin was generous to others, but for some reason, a dark line appeared on his face, a sign of dissatisfaction.

As the Demon King’s resentment began to accumulate, it didn’t lower the surrounding temperature.

But Meishu rubbed her eyes anxiously, sensing a distinct change in his aura, though she couldn’t quite describe it. People in the fashion world may lack other talents, but Meishu was good at sensing aura.

She was stunned, then burst out in Japanese, praising him, “I’ve never seen someone with such a commanding presence, a true superstar aura! Boss Hong is truly remarkable; there’s a reason she singled you out—her vision is exceptional!”

As a rookie, Meishu naturally idolized this soon-to-be cover star of “Most Glamorous.” Her admiration was heartfelt, and she didn’t expect Ma Weimin to understand, which is why she spoke in Japanese.

Strangely, Ma Weimin understood her. He replied, “Well, your words are pleasing. I enjoy hearing them. You really are a fighting rooster among nobodies. I’ll grant you one wish, go ahead.”

Meishu widened her eyes. “You understand Japanese? Even my rural Hokkaido accent?”

Wait…

Ma Weimin paused, realizing he only knew Yamei dialect. Thinking back, he hadn’t understood her babble at all—but somehow, he instinctively grasped her meaning just now?

He could only chalk it up to the body’s abilities. After all, the Demon King had an IQ of 397 and held nine doctorates at thirteen; knowing several languages was hardly surprising.

The pains of youth hadn’t limited the Demon King’s imagination.

Meishu, with her adorable air, slapped her forehead, remembering her task. “Come with me quickly, it’s getting late.”

Ma Weimin, ever eccentric, replied, “No way. You think I’ll just follow you because you say so? Do I seem that casual?”

“What are you talking about?” Meishu said, confused. “You promised me one condition.”

“Did I?” Ma Weimin blinked.

Meishu decisively produced her phone, playing back the recording of his promise.

“Well, seems I did promise. Little KS, if you hadn’t called, I’d have wanted to visit you anyway.” Ma Weimin put on his coat and followed her.

He looked around outside—no luxury car in sight. He asked, “Where’s your car?”

“I came by subway. Boss Hong didn’t tell me to use the company car,” Meishu replied awkwardly.

That nobody… She didn’t even send a luxury car to pick him up…

Now Ma Weimin harbored a second grievance, two gray lines appearing on his brow.

He didn’t know why, but his body easily harbored resentment toward Ni Feihong.

“Did I offend you?” Meishu whispered.

“Not possible. People like you can’t offend me. Beneath the Demon King, all are ants. Ants cannot anger the Demon King,” Ma Weimin replied uncontrollably.

No matter how cute Meishu was, she now had a black line across her face, thinking to herself: Neurotic man…

“By the way, what’s your name?” Ma Weimin asked as they sat on the subway.

Meishu bowed. “Meishu Ryuzawa. Please take care of me.”

“How many times must I repeat myself? I don’t take care of nobodies,” Ma Weimin said.

Seven black lines faintly appeared on Meishu’s face.

But soon she relaxed, realizing “Neurotic Man” called everyone a nobody, from the Queen of England onward—it wasn’t personal. Her resentment faded, and she decided the only way to deal with such idiocy was with tolerance…

When they arrived at Haihao Tower, Meishu, a bit dazed, stopped before entering and slapped her forehead. “Oh no, two magazines are launching today. I need to buy them for Boss Hong, or she’ll scold us if she doesn’t see them on her desk. That means someone didn’t do their job. They’re on the thirty-seventh floor. You can go up yourself, or wait for me.”

Whoosh—

Meishu finished and dashed off.

Ma Weimin paused, looking at the elevators. Only nobodies would hesitate; the strong never wait. He strode decisively into the elevator.

He was stunned when the doors opened.

It was bustling—stages everywhere, photographers everywhere, handsome men and beautiful women everywhere.

Wait, Feng Chencheng?

Nearby, a striking tall woman was walking the runway in a three-piece outfit. After a flurry of camera flashes, she stepped down. Her team of assistants followed as she headed his way.

Feng Chencheng was the hottest supermodel. She was wearing Victoria’s Secret’s autumn flagship, and now needed to change for her next show. She was surrounded by her assistants, makeup artists, and several designers and staff from Victoria’s Secret.

One foreign man from the company, shorter than Feng Chencheng, was beside her, babbling, “You can’t walk like that, you shouldn’t present like that. This isn’t the intent of our design.”

Feng Chencheng replied helplessly, “There’s nothing I can do. You know Boss Hong is personally reviewing this. I followed your direction at first—she killed my draft twice in a row. It’s nothing for me to work harder, but if word gets out that Feihong rejected my draft three times, how can I survive? Haven’t you noticed those big-name photographers are annoyed? If we stick to your vision, they threaten not to shoot. If we bring in second-tier nobodies to shoot, how can I survive?”

Thus, the group clustered around Feng Chencheng, talking as they walked, only to find Ma Weimin blocking their way.

He’d been standing there from the start. The group took up space, yet acted as if they couldn’t split up and walk separately. But now they all stopped and stared at him.

The Cayenne man, whom Ma Weimin had seen at home yesterday, was among them, alongside the winter melon girl. He was the editor-in-chief for this category.

Ma Weimin didn’t realize their looks meant “Don’t block us.” As a fan, he kind of wanted to ask for Feng Chencheng’s autograph.

But his mind split, and instead he blurted, “Where’s ‘Most Glamorous’?”

None of them answered. Seeing he wouldn’t move, they split and walked around him. Once past, the whole group burst out laughing.

Ma Weimin scoffed at them. Their obvious poverty had already limited their imagination.

“Hey, Ma, what are you doing here?” Nearby, Tao Zi and Chen Xiao spotted him and questioned him.

Chen Xiao was fine, saying little.

Tao Zi, however, looked unhappy. “Have we offended you? Is it necessary to follow us to the company? You don’t understand anything. If you’re looking for a job, you’re in the wrong industry—you can’t get in. You’ve upset Editor Wan and Sister Yang Ling. What more do you want? Following me and Chen Xiao is even worse. Leave now, don’t embarrass us.”

“Why can’t I come? Why use the word ‘follow’ with such a sleazy tone?” Ma Weimin retorted, refusing to back down.