"Boom——!"
The smug smile on Victor's face instantly froze and shattered, replaced by a deep flush of being completely exposed!
"Wh-what are you talking about! Sister Mavis... she's talking nonsense! She's slandering me!"
Victor strained his neck, trying to defend himself, but his words were incoherent, his eyes darting frantically. The previous "battle-hardened" demeanor vanished without a trace, making him look like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.
"Oh? Is that so?"
Wednesday unhurriedly crossed her arms. The blush on her pale face hadn't fully faded yet, adding a touch of teasing beauty.
"How about this—"
Wednesday's voice was cool, but her fingertip carried an undeniable force as she once again precisely extracted that copy of "the succubus cultivation guide: The Great Han Orthodox Edition" from the depths of Victor's backpack.
Her slender, pale finger pointed to a densely packed passage filled with blush-inducing details.
"I won't make it too difficult for you. Come, recite the content of this passage aloud."
Victor was stunned for a moment, then, as if provoked by some strange competitive spirit, he stiffened his neck and snatched the book.
"Read it, then! What's so hard about that!"
He tried to make his tone sound full of disdain and ease, but the slightly trembling tail end of his voice betrayed him.
He steeled himself, his gaze falling on the flowing, vivid, and detailed sentences, and began to recite haltingly:
"The... the way of the harmonious union of yin and yang... values... values the agile tongue as a bridge, the mutual dependence of lips and teeth, the mingling of breath... uh..."
Victor paused, his Adam's apple bobbing unnaturally, feeling his cheeks begin to burn.
"...the palm should be applied... must... must slowly explore the round... the round curves, feeling beneath... the subtle, pulsating vitality beneath..."
His voice grew softer and more slurred, as if he were holding a scalding stone in his mouth.
Each word uttered seemed to ignite a small, ambiguous flame in the cramped space of the car.
The atmosphere in the car quietly became thick and pink, filled with an indescribable, stifling heat.
Beside them, Enid was already blushing with a racing heart, her azure eyes shimmering with moisture.
She subconsciously pressed her legs together, her hands tightly clutching the hem of her clothes, even tiny beads of sweat appearing on the tip of her small nose.
She couldn't help but sneak glances at Victor, then quickly look away, feeling like the sound of her own heartbeat was about to drown out Victor's torturous recitation.
Meanwhile, the instigator, Wednesday, maintained her icy calm on the surface, her eyes fixed straight ahead.
As if intently admiring the rapidly receding, featureless greenbelt outside the window.
But her slightly tensed jawline, the blush that quietly spread all the way to her delicate earlobes, and her fingertips unconsciously lightly rubbing her skirt hem all betrayed that her heart was anything but calm.
An unusual, unfamiliar warmth was quietly coursing through her usually cold limbs and body, following Victor's halting yet clear word-by-word recitation.
Inside, her heart was already pounding like a drum, a mix of shame and annoyance, but she was too embarrassed to be the first to call for a stop—
That would be tantamount to admitting defeat first.
She could only force herself to hold on, secretly hoping that Victor himself would be the first to give up under the torment of shame.
And Victor was currently in even deeper water.
The content in the book grew more and more explicit, the descriptions more and more... vivid and instructional.
He felt like a potato being slowly roasted over a fire, every second an agony.
The only thing keeping him going was a stubborn determination of "can't show weakness in front of my girlfriend."
Inside, he was already screaming wildly: Hurry up and stop me, Wednesday! Say something, anything, to interrupt me! Please!
Thus, a dramatic scene unfolded:
One pretending to be calm, waiting for the other to crack first;
One forcing himself onward, hoping someone would interrupt;
And the third completely lost, unable to extricate herself from shame and a strange palpitation.
The three of them seemed entangled by invisible threads, trapped in this increasingly pink, increasingly scorching enclosed space.
Victor's voice was now as faint as a mosquito's hum, almost whispering those blush-inducing "cultivation methods" with his breath.
His entire body was as red as a freshly steamed, piping-hot drunken shrimp, as if he might faint from overheating at any second.
Enid had already buried her burning face in her knees, only revealing a pair of watery blue eyes peeking at Victor and Wednesday, her shoulders trembling slightly, unsure if she was laughing or just shy.
And Wednesday, her pale skin was finally completely stained with a breathtaking crimson blush, even her neck not spared.
She was finally starting to falter. Wednesday suddenly raised her hand, as if wanting to stop Victor from continuing.
But her fingers paused in mid-air. In the end, she just picked up a bottle of ice water beside her, tilted her head back, and gulped down several mouthfuls, as if trying to quench the rising heat in her throat.
The cold liquid slid down her throat but seemed to make her cheeks burn even hotter.
Just as the atmosphere was about to reach a critical point—
"Screech—"
The car came to a smooth stop at the airport departure level entrance.
Valmont's respectful voice came from the front seat, carrying a deliberately practiced calm, as if he had heard nothing:
"Mr. Victor, we've arrived at the airport."
This voice was like heavenly music, instantly bursting the nearly solidified pink bubble inside the car.
Victor felt as if pardoned. He "snapped" the book shut, his movements as fast as if his hand had been burned, and let out a long sigh of relief, as if he had just survived an extreme challenge.
Enid also looked up, patted her still-burning cheeks, and muttered softly, "We're here..."
Wednesday quickly put down the water bottle, resuming her icy demeanor, though the hurried motion of straightening her collar betrayed a hint of fluster.
The three of them glanced at each other, then quickly looked away, traces of lingering blush on their cheeks, tacitly choosing not to mention anything that had just happened.
But the subtle atmosphere in the air, mixed with embarrassment, ambiguity, and a strange palpitation, lingered for a long time.
Victor looked up, his gaze passing over Enid, whose cheeks were still flushed and eyes evasive, and Wednesday, who was forcing composure but whose ears were still tinged with red, landing on the straight-backed, seemingly isolated figure of Valmont in the driver's seat.
At this moment, Victor felt that Valmont was practically radiating an angelic glow!
He leaned forward, patted Valmont's shoulder firmly and gratefully, his tone filled with the relief of a narrow escape and sincere praise:
"Valmont! Well done! You're good, very, very good!"
Valmont jolted all over, as if just waking from a state of "focused driving."
He turned around, a perfectly appropriate, slightly bewildered, respectful smile plastered on his face.
As if he hadn't heard the blush-inducing "academic recitation" from the back seat just now.
"You flatter me, Mr. Victor. Safely and promptly delivering you and the two young ladies is my duty."
Valmont's voice was steady, his expression flawlessly sincere.
This acting! This professionalism! Victor gave Valmont ten thousand mental thumbs up.
Who said this guy was useless?
At critical moments, this ability to play dumb and preserve the boss's dignity was practically the top-tier configuration of a gold-medal assistant!
Feeling happy and having just escaped the crisis of "social death," Victor immediately felt he should reward him heavily.
"Ahem."
Victor cleared his throat, trying to make his tone sound thoughtful.
"I've given it some careful thought, Valmont. After all, you were once... well, you still are a figure managing affairs in your own right. You can't lose face. A private jet is still very necessary; it represents our organization's image!"
As he spoke, he pulled out a heavy, bulging leather pouch and casually tossed it to Valmont.
The moment the pouch landed in his hands, its astonishing weight made the unprepared Valmont's arm sink sharply, his waist bending with it, nearly causing a sprain.
"Th-this is...?"
Valmont instinctively asked, his arm trembling slightly from the effort.
"Oh, just a little something."
Victor waved his hand.
"Consider it your year-end bonus. Ancient Atlantean gold coins, decent purity. Should be enough for you to get a nice private jet."
"G-gold coins?! Ancient Atlantean gold coins?!"
Valmont's eyes instantly widened like copper bells, his breathing becoming rapid.
At that very moment, a miracle occurred!
A strange, powerful force seemed to surge from his dantian, instantly flowing through his limbs and entire body!
His previously weight-bent waist "snapped" straight, his trembling arm became as steady as a rock, and even his legs and feet, which had felt weak from nervousness, were filled with strength!
No more backache, no more leg pain, no more hand tremors!
Valmont tightly hugged the pouch of gold coins as if holding a long-lost beloved son.
His face flushed with excitement, he gave Victor a deep ninety-degree bow, his voice loud and brimming with heartfelt loyalty and drive:
"Thank you, Boss! The Boss is wise! Valmont will live up to your great expectations and expedite the jet arrangements! Loyalty!"
This shout drew sidelong glances from passersby at the airport entrance.
Victor nodded with satisfaction, then finally turned to look at Enid and Wednesday, who had calmed down somewhat but whose blushes hadn't fully faded.
"Shall we go?" He extended his hand, a somewhat ingratiating, let's-just-move-on smile on his face.
Enid gave him a coquettish glare but still placed her hand in his palm, though her fingertips secretly gave him a pinch.
Wednesday merely gave him a faint glance, opened the car door first, and got out. Her cool back seemed to say, "This isn't over yet."
The three of them walked side by side towards the airport terminal, their shadows lengthening in the sunlight. Although a subtle remnant of the atmosphere lingered, a new journey had already begun.
And Valmont remained in his bowing posture until Victor and the two others disappeared behind the glass doors before slowly straightening up.
He carefully caressed the gold pouch in his arms, a brilliant, hopeful smile for the future spreading across his face.
Following Boss Victor really does promise a bright future!
He thought gleefully, beginning to seriously consider whether to buy Boeing or Airbus, or... both? After all, the boss clearly didn't lack money!
(End of Volume 2)
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