CHAPTER 86: “CONGRATULATIONS TO CEO KIM!”

Yunfan Stadium.

At the entrance, a giant inflatable arch welcomed everyone with bold letters:

"Warmly congratulate Steel Cup T-Shirt Factory and Horny Princess Interactive for holding their grand employee sports festival."

Passersby stopped to stare.

"Whoa, who are these companies?" one muttered. "Throwing a sports day this fancy?"

"No clue. All I know is the same guy owns both."

"Same guy? Must be loaded. Look—referees, cleaners, security guards. All hired just for this."

"Imagine blowing that much money so your employees can play tug-of-war."

Two hired hosts—a sharply dressed husband-and-wife team—waited at the gate. Ye Feng, the husband, looked at the arriving buses nervously.

"So... which one of these people is the boss again?"

"No idea," his wife, Chen Xuan, whispered back. "They just told us ’the boss is surnamed Kim.’ Very helpful."

The first bus arrived: employees from Horny Princess Interactive filed out, lined up, and unfurled their banners.

The cameraman scrambled to the front, snapping photos like this was the Olympics.

Jin Wu waved his hands like a conductor. "Line up! Hold the slogans higher—make it look like you’re enthusiastic."

The employees obeyed, some more enthusiastic than others.

Nearby, a group of random bystanders squinted at the banners.

One man read aloud:

"Work is precious, and health is even more precious."

"Effective work lies in the balance between work and rest."

"When you are tired from work, don’t force it. Fatigue is dangerous."

There was a beat of silence. Then someone snorted.

"...Are these banners... telling people to quit?"

"Dude, that’s hilarious. Imagine your boss showing up and seeing that."

"I want to see his face. I’ll pay money to see his face."

The crowd giggled, phones discreetly raised to capture the chaos.

Ten minutes later, the second bus pulled in. Employees from Steel Cup T-Shirt Factory hopped off, just as neatly dressed.

Both companies lined up together like rival schools at a pep rally. Cameras flashed, drones hovered, and after some obligatory photos, the parade moved into the stadium.

Inside, the hosts grabbed their microphones, ready to project fake enthusiasm.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome!" Ye Feng boomed, holding Cho Rin’s carefully drafted schedule.

The crowd clapped politely.

The games began.

Competitions flew by, each fueled by points and prizes. Most employees were surprisingly fired up. A few lunatics even signed up for 16 events, clearly thinking "priority on prizes" meant "destroy my body."

Others tried to sit it out—like Aunt Dong, Cho Rin, Yeji, and even Jin Wu—but Suho had made it clear: no freeloaders. Everyone had to compete at least once.

"Think of it this way," Suho had smirked, "every prize you win saves me money. You like saving me money, right?"

The camera lingered on Yeji’s face as she muttered, "This is extortion."

From the stands, Suho lounged with popcorn, sunglasses on, surveying his kingdom of reluctant athletes.

The referees blew whistles. The announcers hyped every stumble like it was a world record. Employees sweated, groaned, and occasionally cursed their life choices.

Finally, Ye Feng raised the mic again.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, our next event..."

Dramatic pause.

"...The 50-Meter Walk!"

Silence.

Employees looked at each other like he’d just announced a competitive napping contest.

In the stands, Suho grinned to himself. Time for the main event. My genius idea.

When Ye Feng read the event name aloud—"50-meter race walk"—he almost broke character as a professional host. His eyebrow twitched like a man trying to suppress the urge to say, "What the hell is that?"

A 50-meter walk? That was shorter than the bathroom line at a Taylor Swift concert.

But before the audience could question it too much, Ye Feng leaned into the mic and delivered the big reveal:

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, the star of this event... our very own boss, CEO Kim Suho!"

Every cameraman swiveled. All four drones tilted dramatically like paparazzi helicopters. The applause was warm, polite... and just slightly confused.

Suho rose from his seat in his Steel Cup sportswear, hands tucked in his pockets like he was about to model casual Friday.

It was just a short walk, no sweat required. Two steps, a hip wiggle, and done. He wasn’t here for medals, just a couple of symbolic points to prove he "participated." The prizes weren’t worth sweating over—maybe 2000 dollars in goods at most. What was that compared to the 8 million jackpot dangling in front of him like a game show check?

He strolled down to the track, trying to look important but casual. Like a man who’d "just happened" to enter a sport invented for mall walkers.

The other competitors were already lined up. Suho did a double-take.

Jin Wu, stiff as ever.

Lee Wonho, trying not to look guilty.

Wu Yi, already sweating like he’d run here.

Wu Yu from sales, stretching like this was the Olympics.

Fen Su, a planner from Horny Princess Interactive, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

And all of them—all of them—had somehow chosen the same event.

"Hello, CEO Kim!" They chorused in unison. The timing was so perfect it was suspicious. Like they’d rehearsed.

Suho’s mouth twitched. Great. A walking cult. Exactly the image I want on camera.

Ye Feng hyped it up from the announcer’s booth.

"The contestants are ready! The referee is in position! Let’s see who will claim the glory of the 50-meter race walk!"

Bang! The starting pistol cracked.

"—And they’re off!" Ye Feng shouted. "And look at that, CEO Kim surges into the lead immediately! Truly an example of athletic dominance and grace!"

On the track, Suho shuffled forward casually, one hand in his pocket.

Nice and slow. Just a casual stroll. Let them take the spotlight.

But when he glanced left and right, nobody was in front of him.

He looked behind him—and almost groaned out loud.

The others were all exactly one meter behind him, perfectly in sync, fake grimaces plastered on their faces like they were struggling to climb Everest.

Suho sighed internally. Really? You guys couldn’t even pretend? Now it looks like I’m leading a company field trip.

The crowd, of course, went wild. To the untrained eye, it looked like Suho was proudly marching with six loyal followers. To anyone who actually understood sports, it looked like performance art.

Fifty meters passed in a blur.

"Congratulations to CEO Kim!" Ye Feng roared into the mic. "First place with a stunning time of one minute and nine seconds!"

Suho paused, gave the group behind him a thin smile, and walked straight back to the stands.

Down on the track, Wu Yu leaned toward Jin Wu.

"Master, Mr. Kim looks... kinda mad."

Jin Wu shook his head solemnly.

"That’s not anger, my boy. That’s gravitas. He has to look serious. Otherwise, how will employees respect him?"

"Ohhh." Wu Yu nodded sagely.

Then his face lit up.

"Wait, Master! What if I give up my prize priority to CEO Kim? Wouldn’t that make him even happier?"

Jin Wu whipped his head around.

"Are you trying to destroy him?"

Wu Yu blinked. "What?"

"Think. Why do you think he prepared all those prizes? It’s not because he needs a blender or a free laptop. It’s because he wants everyone to feel loyal. If you throw your prize back at him, you ruin the illusion."

Jin Wu lowered his voice, leaning in like he was teaching state secrets.

"Imagine another company offers you 10% more salary. Would you leave?"

Wu Yu shook his head instantly. "No way! This company treats me like royalty. Only an idiot would leave."

"Exactly." Jin Wu smiled proudly. "That’s the real gift CEO Kim is giving you: loyalty. Not a rice cooker."

Wu Yu’s jaw dropped. "Whoa. He’s playing 4D chess."

"Now you’re learning." Jin Wu patted his shoulder. "Stick with me, kid."

By 2 p.m., the competitions wrapped up. Everyone was sweaty, sore, and slightly traumatized.

The hosts stepped up once again.

"Ladies and gentlemen, that concludes today’s events! And now... the moment you’ve been waiting for. The award ceremony!"

Employees perked up immediately. Forget running and sweating—it was prize time.

A few workers lugged tables onto the stage, setting them up next to Ye Feng. Two large cardboard boxes were dropped beside them.

Ye Feng squinted. The boxes weren’t that big. Probably some trinkets, maybe water bottles or umbrellas. Still, the gesture was huge. Most companies didn’t even spring for pizza on "team-building" days.

Then he noticed Suho himself walking down from the stands, looking every inch the benevolent emperor of discount electronics.

Ye Feng rushed forward.

"CEO Kim! Thank you for joining us. It’s been an honor hosting!"

Suho nodded with mock humility. "You worked hard today."

The cameras zoomed in. The drones circled. Employees craned their necks toward the boxes like kids waiting for Christmas morning.

The award ceremony was about to begin.

The gymnasium buzzed with anticipation as the prizes were finally being revealed.

Cho Rin strutted over like she was carrying a state secret, holding a stack of typed-up award rules. She handed them to Ye Feng, the male host, who skimmed them with the confidence of a man expecting a boring list.

Then his face froze.

Normally, companies hand out a couple of trophies, maybe a mug, maybe a sad gift card. This list? It read like Santa Claus on steroids.

From first place to dead last—everyone got two prizes. Two! Even the guy who tripped over his shoelaces during warm-ups was guaranteed loot.

Ye Feng blinked. "Two cardboard boxes can’t possibly..." His eyes wandered to the prize table, and then he froze again.

Sitting there were not mugs or keychains but glossy square boxes he knew all too well. He had literally just bought one. The latest domestic smartphone—top configuration—worth more than 6,000 dollars each.

"Uh-oh," he muttered under his breath.

And then—bam!—the employees started pulling out more. Tablets, stacked neatly. Another 15 of them. Each one is over 4,000 dollars.

Ye Feng did some quick math. Phones and tablets? Already more than 150,000.

He looked at his wife and co-host, Chen Xuan. Her expression said exactly what he was thinking: We are not getting paid enough for this circus.

Then came the kicker—plastic-sealed sheets of paper stacked in a neat pile. Ye Feng leaned closer. They weren’t raffle slips. They were receipts for actual household appliances.

Refrigerator, 3,998 dollars.

TV, 4,299 dollars.

Washing machine, 3,599 dollars.

And on, and on, and on.

Ye Feng almost dropped the stack. Oh my god. This man is liquidating Best Buy.

Before he could even ask, Kim Suho strolled over with his usual poker face, like he hadn’t just spent more on employee gifts than most people spend on their weddings.

"Uh, Mr. Kim," Ye Feng said nervously, "these... plastic-wrapped coupons...?"