How To Apply 'The Art Of Laziness' In Daily Work?

Flash Marriage with My Stoic Boss: Cold in Public, Passionate in Private Blurb Nora Ward has two rules for marriage: low-maintenance and zero drama. As a chief cardiology resident running on coffee and four hours of sleep, she doesn't have time for romance. A blind date gone wrong lands her at the wrong table with the right man — Adrian Cross, a cold, brutally efficient cardiothoracic surgeon just back from the US. They size each other up over iced coffee. Same schedule. Same pragmatism. Same need for a spouse who stays out of the way. Thirty minutes later, they leave the courthouse with a marriage certificate and no intention of ever seeing each other outside a hospital. Problem is — they work at the same hospital. And Adrian Cross just happens to be her department's newly appointed deputy chair. Now she has to face him at morning rounds, pretend he's a stranger, and ignore the way his voice drops an octave when he says "Dr. Ward" — professional, distant, infuriating. Rules are easy to make. Harder to keep when your stoic husband corners you in the on-call room after midnight and proves he's anything but cold. This is why you don't flash-marry your boss.

At the company's annual gala, the CEO announced that this year's top sales performer would receive a two-million-dollar year-end bonus. I was the top performer. However, my manager called me into his office the very next day and explained that the company was cutting costs and improving efficiency. As a result, my bonus had to be reduced. I initially assumed everyone's bonus was being cut. Then, I found out I was the only one getting shortchanged. Even worse, they handed my position to a useless coworker who could barely do the job. I understood everything immediately. 'So this is how it is. You're tossing me aside after you got what you wanted from me.' Fine. I stopped putting in any effort from that day forward. I clocked in, did the bare minimum, and watched the company slowly fall apart. Sales began to drop month after month. Even the major clients I had already secured began withdrawing their investments. That was when the CEO finally panicked. He showed up at my front door, begging me to fix things. I kicked the door open and looked down at him. "You think a garbage company like yours deserves my help?"

I was born with an extraordinary talent for being slow. In elementary school, my classmates laughed in my face for being an orphan. I proudly said, "That's right. I'm the only orphan in the whole school. That makes me the coolest!" The principal happened to pass by and thought I had been bullied so badly I had snapped. Furious, he called their parents and they gave them a beating when they got home. During my freshman year of high school, a boy tried to prank me by confessing to me with a bouquet of white lilies. I accepted them with a smile. "Thank you. How did you know lilies were my favorite?" After that, every time I saw him at school, I would smile and say, "I really liked the white lilies you gave me." For the next three years, everyone called him Lily instead. Later, my wealthy biological parents found me and brought me home. On my first day there, the fake heiress set me up by pretending I had pushed her down, then cried, "I made a mistake. Please don't hurt me!" My parents and older brother rushed over in a panic, but before they could accuse me of anything, realization struck. "You're practicing acting, right? I haven't even done my part yet! Let's do it again!" With that, I pulled her up and shoved her hard to the floor again. When my family saw how calm I was, they nodded in relief. Later, the whole family went to Harbor City for a banquet for the rich, and the fake heiress pushed me into a dark room. In front of me stood Harbor City's ruthless ruler. On the floor lay a man covered in blood, barely alive. I covered my mouth in surprise. The man narrowed his eyes dangerously and walked toward me. I said excitedly, "This is my first time seeing a movie set. Can I be in it too?"

My wife, Vivian Lane, is the wealthiest woman. Her assistant had made it clear he had three "do-not-disturb" rules: no messages after work, no calls on weekends, and absolutely no contact when he was in a bad mood. Because of this, the company lost a major deal—one worth over a hundred million. Yet the assistant looked completely unbothered. "Sorry, I had no idea one phone call could make such a difference. If something goes wrong and I have to be the one to take the blame, fine—I'm just another cog in the machine." My wife snapped, "Who said anything about blaming you? You did exactly what you were told." She shot me a look of pure irritation. "You take the profits from the project, and when things fall apart, you dump it on the regular employees? Is that how you run a business? If your company folds over something this small, it just proves you're not fit to be in charge." It suddenly clicked, and I let out a quiet laugh. So she thought this project belonged to my company? I didn't bother correcting her. To be honest, I couldn't really hold it against her—after all, it wasn't my company going under.

I was always sleepy when I was working. If I were working an eight-hour shift, I would sleep the entire shift away. Initially, I thought that I was too tired. My boss only fined me because I was the top sales performer. It was not until I got caught dozing off for the 38th time last month that I realized something was wrong. I scheduled a medical appointment. However, on the way to the hospital, I died from a car accident. When I opened my eyes again, I realized I had returned to the day the new male colleague first joined us. In the past, I had also started to suffer from lethargy on the same day. I suspected he had something to do with my symptoms. Hence, I started to stalk him in secret. As expected, during lunch time, I caught him and my girlfriend conspiring against me. “Once I plant this sleepy bug on Nick, you can transfer your sleepiness to him.” Justin Smith wrapped his arm around my girlfriend Heather Reid’s waist. He said in a fawning tone, “Heather, you’re the best. Once Nick gets fired for oversleeping, I can take his position!” I sneered when I saw them acting intimately. They did not know that I had returned to the past!

My wife's first love was bound to an "overachiever" system—every ounce of exhaustion he racked up from grinding away at work got transferred straight to me. He pulled seven straight all-nighters to land a multi-million-dollar deal and became a legend in the industry. Meanwhile, I ended up in the ER with heart failure. When I tried to explain it to my wife, she shot me a look of pure disgust. "You're just born lazy," she snapped. "You can't stand seeing him succeed at such a young age, so you make up some sick fairy tale to accuse him." After that, every late night he pulled chipped away at my body. First came nervous exhaustion, then organ failure—until I was hanging on by a thread. I went to the hospital for tests, but the doctors couldn't find a thing. A few even hinted I might be suffering from paranoid delusions. Then, to get his company listed on the stock exchange, he locked himself in his office for two weeks straight. I wound up dead from overexertion in my own room. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the night of his very first all-nighter. This time, I bolted the door, pulled out a full strip of sleeping pills, and smiled. "Time to sleep."