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The CEO Can't Touch My Armpit Hair
墨書 Inktalez
The blazing sun hung high in the sky, its rays slicing through the urban jungle like blades, while the scorching air churned on the asphalt, resembling invisible waves that enveloped the city in a layer of distorted mirage. The streets were bustling with crowds, the honking of cars, the announcements of arriving subways, and the hurried footsteps of pedestrians mingling into a unique symphony of urban clamor. Everyone seemed to be racing against time, moving swiftly with indifferent gazes, unwilling or unable to care about the strangers beside them, as if the city were a mechanical maze devoid of emotional connections.
Amidst the throng, Ye Mo Li's steps stood apart from the chaos, steady and calm, as if she were merely a passerby in this world, not belonging to the same time and space as those around her. She carried an old black canvas bag on her shoulder; though its appearance was unassuming, the carefully repaired seams on the strap revealed that it was more than just an ordinary satchel to her—it was an irreplaceable presence. A pair of thin-framed glasses rested on her face, their lenses glinting coldly in the sunlight, slightly obscuring her gaze. Yet her serene and vigilant aura remained clear, as if no matter how noisy the city became, it could not leave any ripples in her heart.
The sweltering summer breeze swept through the streets like a furnace, assaulting every passerby with nowhere to escape. The air was thick with the acrid scent of asphalt baking under the sun, creating an oppressive atmosphere that lingered. Many chose to wear light clothing to combat the heat; however, Ye Mo Li remained wrapped in a black long-sleeve coat, its fabric tightly enveloping her arms without revealing even her fingertips. Even as sweat trickled down her forehead and meandered down her cheeks before disappearing into her collar—silently absorbed by the fabric—she remained unwavering, as if this summer's torment had nothing to do with her. She knew that simply rolling up her sleeves would alleviate some discomfort, yet she preferred to let her skin soak in sweat, allowing her clothes to cling to her body like heavy shackles rather than reveal an existence that others could not understand.
More than the external heat, she was concerned about the boundary between herself and the world. If that barrier were to crack even slightly, what consequences might follow? She did not wish to think about it or take any risks. This black long sleeve was not merely clothing; it was a sturdy fortress that separated her from this indifferent world, protecting yet imprisoning her.
Finally, she reached the corner of the street where a towering skyscraper shot up into the clouds at the heart of the city. Its glass facade reflected the blue sky and clouds like a mirror, refracting sunlight into dazzling rays—like a palace of deities overlooking the masses below. This was Ethan Lux's headquarters, an empire that worshipped Extreme aesthetics and regarded Hair as a symbol of power. The building's exterior sparkled with high-end brand logos; metallic letters emitted a cold and unassailable glow, symbolizing an aesthetic principle that transcended all else in this world—telling everyone that only beauty meeting their standards deserved to exist.
Ye Mo Li stood at the street corner and gazed up at this colossal structure with eyes as deep as water—neither awed nor shaken. She adjusted the strap of her bag slightly so that it fit more snugly against her back before withdrawing her gaze back to the road beneath her feet. The ivory white revolving door came into view—clean, pure, and nearly perfect in its symmetrical structure—much like its owner's Extreme pursuit of beauty.
Yet she did not stop or hesitate for even a moment; she stepped forward through the bustling crowd toward that door.
As soon as she entered Ethan Lux's lobby, Ye Mo Li was instantly hit by an extreme temperature difference—the body that had just been scorched by the sun was suddenly enveloped by cold air conditioning, as if she had fallen from a blazing desert into icy depths. Her steps faltered slightly; every drop of sweat felt frozen against her skin as her damp long sleeves clung tightly to her body, creating an illusion of being drenched in ice water. The chill came unexpectedly; a tickle surged in her nostrils as she instinctively tilted her head back—
"Ah—choo!"
A crisp sneeze echoed through the spacious lobby. However, before she could fully regain her composure, a powerful force struck from the side—bang!
She was violently knocked aside, losing balance and falling toward the floor as her canvas bag slipped away with a muffled thud.
"Hmph... Where did this country bumpkin come from to block my way?"
A voice dripping with disdain and contempt echoed from above, sharp and cutting like a slender knife designed to slice through the dignity of others.
Ye Mo Li looked up, her gaze following the sound of high heels clicking against the floor. It was a woman—her figure voluptuous, skin so smooth it seemed poreless, clad in a form-fitting custom Chanel dress. Every strand of hair fell perfectly in place, as if meticulously measured to frame her face. Her red lips curled into a smirk that radiated cruelty, and her elongated phoenix eyes were filled with superiority and scorn. She stood before Ye Mo Li with an air of extreme confidence and oppression, as if the world revolved around her; anyone standing in her way was merely inconsequential dust.
Behind her trailed several burly security guards in black suits, each standing straight and unwavering, like finely tuned machines, completely obedient to her will.
Ye Mo Li remained silent, quietly observing as the woman strode past with long legs, her expensive heels clicking on the marble floor like a queen walking on clouds, showing no remorse for their earlier collision, not even a hint of interest in looking back.
"Are you alright?"
A warm hand reached out to help her up from the ground. Ye Mo Li blinked, coming back to reality as she turned to face the kind stranger. The person lowered their voice slightly, speaking with a hint of helplessness:
"That's Su Luobing, the spokesperson for Ethan Lux, and... also Manager Leng's fiancée."
Ye Mo Li stared blankly for a moment before murmuring, "Manager Leng..."
The person who helped her nodded gently, a knowing smile playing at their lips. "Yes, that Manager Leng. You’re here for the Hair Care Summit too, right? You must know him."
Ye Mo Li paused for a moment before lifting her head slightly, a thoughtful smile gracing her lips. "Of course I know him; I just didn't expect to be so close to Manager Leng."
Upon hearing this, the stranger couldn't help but chuckle heartily and patted her shoulder. Their tone was half-teasing, half-encouraging. "Well then, you better step up! This place isn’t for just anyone!"
With that, the person turned and walked away briskly, soon disappearing into the bustling crowd of the hall.
Ye Mo Li was just about to bend down to pick up her canvas bag when, suddenly, her phone rang.
She took her phone out of her pocket and saw the name Shen Dudu flashing on the screen.
As soon as she pressed the answer button, a familiar voice came through, laced with a hint of playful complaint: "Hello! Ye Mo Li! Where are you? Why aren't you here yet? I'm about to grow gray hairs waiting for you!"
Ye Mo Li sighed helplessly, looked up at the magnificent skyscraper, feeling the lingering unease from the unpleasant encounter she had just experienced. Then she smiled lightly and replied, "I’m almost there. I’ve already come inside."
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