Only today did I finally understand.

Life offers just two paths—

either you master your own fate… or fate masters you.

And right now? I stood at the threshold of life’s slaughterhouse: the president’s office of Chengyu Company.

Ah… such is life.

Before stepping inside, you never know—you’ll walk out with dignity… or in a humiliating dress.

But one thing was crystal clear: whether I entered or not, from this moment on, I’d lose something forever—

the freedom to choose.

One way or another, I was now a man burdened with over a million in debt… possibly even two.

Humans are like livestock in a slaughterhouse. Once you’re fattened up, don’t dream of peace.

“Let’s go. Step inside.”

“The ‘Young Mistress’ you mentioned… your company’s president—is she really in there?”

“Where else? School?”

…

*Knock, knock, knock—*

My pulse hammered.

What if this “Young Mistress” was some sharp-tongued middle-aged woman? Or a cold, difficult elder?

Any woman who reached president couldn’t be soft.

“Come in.”

Hear that? One listen—and my thoughts shattered.

Why so young?! Her voice carried the crisp chill of a snowpeak: beautiful, yet distant, radiating *keep your distance*.

Even stranger—a flicker of familiarity. Had I heard this voice before?

“Let’s go in.”

“Ah! Uh…” I snapped out of my daze, coughed to cover it, and followed Cheng Shun inside.

“Miss, I’ve brought him.”

I scanned the office in one glance.

Opulent. Spacious. A golden nanmu desk and bookshelves. Trophies gleaming. Through the floor-to-ceiling window, the city glittered below.

Behind the desk sat the so-called “Young Mistress”—but she faced the window, half-reclined in her chair, ignoring me completely.

One detail caught my eye: her legs crossed on the sill, bare feet in sheer black stockings swaying gently.

The delicate silhouette beneath the thin fabric…

Just from her legs and feet, I *knew* she was stunning. Don’t ask how.

“Thank you, Uncle Cheng. Wait outside.”

Her voice stayed icy—even to an elder, not a trace of warmth.

“Yes, Miss.”

Cheng Shun set down his briefcase and left.

Alone. With *her*.

Any admiration vanished. I froze, stiff as a statue. If she turned now… I’d look like a mouse standing rigid before a cat. My knees trembled.

“Relax. I’m just a figurehead. Seventeen. I won’t eat you.”

So that’s it. A scion of some powerful family. But this aura… if I’d ever met her, I’d remember.

She rocked her chair side to side, still hiding her face, voice laced with unsettling cheer:

“Lin Xiaoxi. Heard you signed the contract… then planned to break it? Heh. Can’t repay over a million to banks and loan sharks—and now you want *another* million in penalties? Do you enjoy torturing yourself? Hm?”

Wait—why did she sound *delighted*?! You set me up when I had no way out!

“Do… do you know me?”

Was she someone familiar? I almost *hoped* so. Easier than facing a stranger.

“No.” Not even a pause.

Fine. No negotiation.

“I learned of your debt. Wanted to help. Yet you refuse my kindness… *sigh*. Such a waste. How sad.”

Hey—the glee in your voice betrays you!

Still… this seventeen-year-old president…

Even from behind: the sleek ponytail, the slender neck, skin pale as snow—like an untouchable, tempting iceberg.

Near the desk, glossy black knee-high boots tossed carelessly aside. Her stockinged feet gleamed in the light.

Without seeing her face… my thoughts wandered.

*Gulp.*

I swallowed hard.

No—focus! Lust costs two million!

“Miss President… I need help, but cross-dressing is impossible! Can’t I just be a cute boy model? I’ll cooperate fully—*anything* but women’s clothing!”

She clicked her tongue. “Tsk. Wrong.”

“Wrong?”

“Too dignified. Not what someone with *no way out* would say… Xiaoxi.”

A cold knot tightened in my chest.

“Then… what do you suggest?”

“Beg me. Get on your knees. *Then* I might consider your pathetic plea. Understand? *This* is how you beg.”

“Eh?!”