Overprotected By My Tsundere CEO-Chapter 625 - 377: Isn’t a Job Just a Means to Make a Living?
"Dad."
Crystal sat crouched on the sofa, holding a throw pillow, and glanced at Peter as he walked out of the kitchen.
She took a breath and asked, "Should I organize that history?"
Peter came over and handed her a cup of hot tea, "Isn’t that your dream?"
Crystal took the cup, sipped the tea, and furrowed her brows in thought.
She said, "Not anymore."
"Huh?"
Crystal slightly tilted her head up, staring at Peter with a look wrapped in confusion, "How can you do the same job your whole life?"
"Who talks about a whole life? I haven’t even retired yet."
Peter argued with her and took out a cigarette, heading to the balcony’s floor-to-ceiling window to smoke.
Crystal snickered softly.
She asked, "Do you still want to quit and find another job?"
With the cigarette in his mouth, Peter lit it, took a puff, and waved his hand, "We’ll see, we’ll see."
"..."
Crystal’s smile faded from her eyes and brows, and she looked down, softly sipping her tea.
"Just passion and interest won’t keep you going for a lifetime," Peter leaned by the door, enveloped in smoke, "People do things for a reason. Some for money and pleasure, some for peace of mind, others just to survive. When you were determined to be a war journalist, what did you tell me you were aiming for?"
"To seek truth. The motto of war journalists—" Crystal said softly, her eyes barely flickering, "If you can’t stop war, then tell the world the truth."
Back then, she was young, impulsive, and passionate.
There was a leader who was a war journalist. She had read his book, talked to him once, was deeply moved, and later was stirred by that motto, rushing headlong into the battlefield.
Peter, nonchalantly, gave her a thumbs up, "My daughter has a big heart."
"I have a great dad."
The two exchanged compliments.
Peter said again, "Now do you feel like the truth has nothing to do with you? How many people in the world care about the truth? Most people only care about their own affairs. The wars and chaos in the world are none of their business; they can’t bother to care. You’re not a saint, so why waste your energy on this?"
"Dear Dad."
Crystal sighed.
She placed the throw pillow on her knee, resting her face on it, and murmured softly, "Professional pride, a sense of accomplishment is gone. In the face of sin and desire, our pride, persistence, glory, faith... don’t matter, nothing matters. I find it meaningless."
Peter took a drag of his cigarette.
"Do you remember Marcos? The young Médecins Sans Frontières doctor who visited our home. He died so unjustly, killed by a stray bullet just as he stepped out. Half a month before he died, he and his team were researching a virus, starting to get results... He had been through more dangerous times, hovered on the brink of death many times... yet nothing ever happened to him."
"I think it’s not worth it."
"He was only 25, saved many lives, but no one will remember him."
Unknowingly, Crystal’s eyes turned red.
"Sometimes I think, living in a peaceful and safe country, why not just be an ordinary person, live a stable life, there’s nothing wrong with that." Crystal exhaled, "Let those people slaughter each other, what does it have to do with me?"
Fixing his gaze on her, Peter asked, "Didn’t you want to join the police academy when you were young?"
Crystal was taken aback, nodding slightly, "Yes."
"Why?"
"You saved a family, they gave you a banner." Crystal said, "I thought the profession was meaningful because it helps people."
Peter asked again, "Why did you later not want to do it?"
"Because of Mom..."
Crystal choked a little.
Mrs. Hughes was killed in revenge by a criminal Peter had once punished.
Because of this, Crystal had a strained relationship with Peter for a while, resenting his choice of profession, thinking if he’d chosen a stable job, her mom wouldn’t have died.
"A profession cannot provide permanent pride and sense of value for you," Peter said calmly, "If you really think so, then, my daughter, I’m afraid you won’t be able to get out of it."
Crystal paused.
She asked, "Then how should I think?"
"A profession..." Peter dragged his tone, with a cigarette between his fingers, flicked it lightly causing ash to fall, he said casually, "is just a rice bowl?"
"Very realistic."
Crystal gulped down a large mouthful of hot tea.
"Living life, it has to be practical. Where are all those values you need to realize, who cares about your little bit of value?" Peter said, "Look at me, raising you alone, the most I worry about is your living expenses and tuition..."
Crystal pouted, "Mom had money."
Mrs. Hughes was indeed a strong woman, back then her salary was ten times that of Peter’s, with several properties under her name...
There was never a lack of money.
"That’s the dowry your mom left for you." Peter raised his eyebrows, lazily said, "Didn’t spend a cent, it’s all saved up for you."
"Didn’t spend a cent?" Crystal Hughes was full of doubt.
"Not a cent!"
Peter Hughes said firmly.
"Dad, I still have a mortgage to pay," Crystal Hughes said, "Since it’s my dowry, shouldn’t you consider your grandchild a bit..."
Peter Hughes waved his hand, launching a series of attacks, "Are you married?! Where’s the marriage certificate?! Without a certificate, don’t even dream of getting a penny!"
Crystal Hughes: "..." My own father.
"Oh right," Peter Hughes suddenly remembered something, extinguished his cigarette, and said leisurely, "A colleague’s son, 30 years old this year, unmarried, works in a bank. Looks average, but decent. Recently, my colleague told me that his son doesn’t mind you having a kid—"
Crystal Hughes put down the teacup and cushion, put on her slippers, and got up to leave.
Peter Hughes couldn’t let it go, shouting, "Go meet him in a couple of days, hurry and get yourself married, otherwise, your mom’s dowry will appreciate again, and no one will be able to afford you."
"..."
*
The next day.
Nora Scott woke up, sore all over, cursing Pedro Langley thousands of times under her breath.
Just as she was really getting into it, someone snuggled up behind her, wrapping an arm around her.
"Hmm?" The voice whispered into her ear; Pedro Langley’s freshly-awakened voice was rough and hoarse, "So energetic early in the morning?"
"Fuck!"
The moment Nora Scott was touched, she got goosebumps.
She pushed him, "Get away from me."
Pedro Langley acted fast; just last night, he got hold of a set of school uniforms used for program shooting. Nora Scott had wanted to wear them for him; once she saw the message, she willingly went next door.
Never expected to walk into the lion’s den.
The uniform was on her for less than ten minutes.
And as a result, she was tormented by Pedro Langley, who had turned into a wolf, until late into the night. She only vaguely agreed to something before Pedro Langley let her go.
Just thinking about it made Nora Scott furious enough to want to strangle Pedro Langley.
But alas, her fighting strength had plummeted...
At most, she pushed him away.
"Remember what you promised me last night?" Pedro Langley held her tightly, not moving.
Nora Scott gritted her teeth, "You took advantage of me."
Pedro Langley didn’t care, and offered a righteous rebuttal, "You keep your word."
"..."
Nora Scott was rendered speechless by him.
"Don’t worry, just having a meal with them," Pedro Langley said, "No one else."
Last night, under Pedro Langley’s coaxing, Nora Scott nodded in agreement—to meet Pedro Langley’s two brothers.
Nora Scott had no plans to marry Pedro Langley and was not keen on meeting his family so soon—Flora Loughton was purely accidental. If Pedro Langley hadn’t taken advantage, Nora Scott would’ve never agreed.
She turned over slightly, lying face down, burying her face in the pillow.
Asked, "Do I need to bring a gift?"
Pedro Langley said, "They’re bringing gifts for you."
Nora Scott was slightly stunned, "I don’t need to?"
"No need."
"Is it appropriate?" Nora Scott was doubtful.
"It’s appropriate."
Pedro Langley didn’t hesitate.
Turning her head towards Pedro Langley, Nora Scott, seeing him so close, pinched his face with her fingers, incredulous, "The youngest, weren’t you spoiled growing up?"
"..."
Pedro Langley thought about it, didn’t argue.
In fact, Lucas Langley had a motherly nature, being the second "mom" to him and Thomas Langley, so he and Thomas Langley... and even Flora Loughton were "spoiled" by Lucas Langley.
With Lucas Langley around, carrying the family burden single-handedly, Marsh Langley could retire early, Flora Loughton could focus on teaching, Thomas Langley could live freely, and Pedro Langley could start his own business.
"Just introduce them already."
Nora Scott said, "Those two poor brothers of yours."
Pedro Langley couldn’t help but laugh, "Why are they poor?"
"I don’t know," Nora Scott squinted, speaking the truth, "Feels like... being your brother is kind of pitiful."
Pedro Langley: "..."
