Following the intense emotional demands of the Kissing Contract (Chapter 20), CEO Liang's emotional firewall was secure, but the corporate network was about to face an unprecedented threat from the most illogical sector of his life: the nursery.
CSO Xiao Mei was in her home office, frowning at a diagnostic report that defied all corporate logic.
"Hubby," she called, her voice sharp with genuine professional concern. "There's a highly suspicious anomaly in the Liang Group's primary firewall logs. A small, unauthorized script is attempting to rewrite the company's entire internal cafeteria menu."
Liang, busy perfecting his "Threat Response Kiss" technique in the mirror (a new mandatory training ritual), looked up. "A script? Is it Ethan Cole trying to sneak past the PDA protocol? I warned him!"
"No," Xiao Mei said, pointing to the log data displayed on the enormous monitor. "The script's signature is coded in a rudimentary block language, and the target is oddly specific: it's trying to replace all healthy vegetable options with 'sour gummy worm' flavor."
"Wait," Liang said, his eyes widening in horror and sudden understanding. "That's not corporate espionage. That's a toddler terrorist attack!"They rushed to the mansion's nursery, finding both twins, Zhen and Xin, sitting quietly in their cribs. Liang Zhen (Logic Twin) was meticulously stacking blocks based on size and color (the future CFO), while Liang Xin (Chaos Twin) was chewing thoughtfully on a small, battered plastic toy.
"Xin!" Xiao Mei demanded, her CSO voice cutting through the silence. "Did you use my tablet to access the corporate network?"
Xin giggled, holding up the small plastic toy: it was an old, discarded voice-activated toy walkie-talkie that Xiao Mei had used months ago for a failed home automation experiment.
Liang Zhen, the calm logician, provided the terrifying operational summary. "Mother, Xin couldn't locate her favorite gummy worms. She used the toy's voice activation to mimic your voice—specifically, the phrase 'execute corporate data file transfer'—and asked the smart home network to 'ask the big computer for a sugar request.'"
The toy, still linked to an old, unsecured API that Xiao Mei had forgotten to patch, had carried the simple voice command and translated it into a basic executable loop: "Gummy Worms Now."Before Xiao Mei could deploy a counter-measure, the office intercom crackled to life. It was the frantic voice of the Liang Group's Chief Information Officer (CIO).
"CSO! We have a complete system failure! The entire accounting department's screens are displaying pictures of cartoon dinosaurs demanding gummy bears! The cafeteria menu system is completely down! We can't serve lunch—the only option showing is 'Sour Gummy Broccoli!' The company is starving!"
"We have exactly thirty minutes before the entire company revolts over missing lunch," Liang hissed, pacing like a caged panther. "CSO, I need a professional, genius-level fix, immediately! The stock price might drop due to cafeteria famine!"
Xiao Mei snatched her laptop. "I can't just delete the script; it has propagated through the system using a basic but highly effective replication loop. I need to counter-code a 'Trojan Horse of Logic' to neutralize the chaos!"
She began typing furiously, her fingers flying across the keys with surgical speed. Liang, meanwhile, had to manage the real-world problem: the tiny source of the chaos.Liang knew that logic would fail against Xin's chaos. He needed to provide a greater, more humiliating incentive.
He grabbed a microphone from an old karaoke machine and stood in the middle of the nursery, addressing his terrorist daughter.
"Attention, Liang Group Toddler Terrorist Xin!" he announced dramatically, his CEO voice echoing slightly. "Your father, Chairman Liang, hereby offers a counter-contract! If you stop the virus, Papa will personally perform the 'Sour Gummy Worm Dance' in the kitchen!"
Xin paused her chewing. The prospect of her imposing, cold CEO father dancing in public was evidently more enticing than virtual sugar.
"Dance, Papa! Dance now!" Xin demanded, clapping her tiny hands.
Liang, the man who controlled billions of dollars and commanded thousands of employees, sighed. Then—to the absolute shock of his logical son, Zhen, and the near-hysterical delight of his wife, who had stopped coding to record the moment—he began a ridiculous, improvised jig, wiggling his hips and waving his arms like a highly distressed penguin.Just as Liang collapsed onto the carpet, exhausted and humiliated, Xiao Mei looked up from her screen and grinned triumphantly.
"System restored!" she announced. "My Trojan Horse was a counter-script disguised as an educational app. It locked the walkie-talkie's output port and replaced the cartoon dinosaur images with pictures of healthy broccoli."
She looked at her exhausted, ridiculous husband, who was panting dramatically on the floor.
"Hubby," she said, her voice soft with love. "You successfully neutralized the emotional threat using illogical public performance. That deserves the highest possible reward."
She dropped her laptop, walked over, and pulled him up for a long, deep, mandatory kiss, right there in the nursery.
"The Kissing Contract is still active, Chairman," she murmured against his mouth. "Protocol 5 executed, even if the location is incorrect. You win every battle, even the absurd ones, because you stopped relying on logic."
Liang hugged her tightly, smelling slightly of carpet dust and victory. "I only win, my CSO, because my firewall is chaotic, brilliant, and entirely mine."