When their cohabitation entered the third month, the Iceland poppies planted on the large balcony of Zhang Lian’s house all bloomed overnight.

At this time last year, they were just seeds brought by Auntie Chen from her home.

Now they swayed gracefully in the long, narrow wooden trough, in yellow, orange, red, and white, with vibrant colors and translucent petals, like cups of varying heights, filled with the sweet, wine-like breeze and sunlight of late spring.

With Auntie Chen’s permission, Zhou Mi plucked a few flowers to decorate her workstation at the company and also generously left a stem in Zhang Lian’s car, saying it was her early gift for the Beginning of Summer.

Zhang Lian gladly accepted and thanked her.

Before getting out of the car, Zhou Mi, as always, lingered to kiss him goodbye many times in the front seat, until she had to reapply her lip gloss and then take out wet wipes from her bag to carefully wipe his lips.

Zhang Lian just watched her without moving.

Zhou Mi loved being quietly gazed at like this; the man’s eyes always seemed full of deep affection.

Of course, she already liked his eyes, his lips, his kisses, his embraces, and all physical intimacy with him.

Everything about Zhang Lian was warm and comforting, just like the current weather.

Zhou Mi squinted in the sunlight, and before entering the subway station, she looked back reluctantly, waving wildly like a little bee with high-frequency wing beats.

Zhang Lian lowered the car window and smiled at her, waiting until she disappeared down the escalator before driving away.

Zhang Lian was attending an industry meeting today and didn’t come to the company. When Zhou Mi went to get tea, she didn’t take pains to pass by his office but properly wandered to the tea bar instead.

The department’s original director, Yuan, happened to be making coffee there.

Zhou Mi politely greeted her.

Yuan glanced at her and smiled: “You’re going to K Record tomorrow morning for the pitch, right?”

Zhou Mi was slightly surprised: “Yes, the ten o’clock session.”

Yuan lowered her eyes to press the switch: “After working hard for over a month, you’ll finally see the real test tomorrow.”

Zhou Mi filled her cup with purified water, lacking confidence: “Hopefully we’ll pass. It’s my first time at such an occasion, with five companies competing, it’s quite intense.”

Yuan encouraged: “You’ll pass, and I heard from Yanyan…” she suddenly lowered her voice, leaning over with a mischievous look: “K Record’s Director Ji has a special relationship with you?”

Zhou Mi widened her eyes in astonishment: “Huh?”

Then she hastily denied: “No, no, absolutely not.”

Yuan leaned back slightly, with an expression of “I don’t believe you. “Don’t hide it from your Sister Zhen. I see he likes every one of your WeChat Moments. Several people in our company have Jijie’s WeChat, including me, but they never like any of ours.”

Zhou Mi tried her best to explain clearly: “It’s just playing games together… revolutionary friendship in conquering the valley, nothing more.”

Yuan picked up her cup and patted Zhou Mi’s left shoulder: “Alright, even if there’s no special relationship, he’s interested in you. You must go tomorrow, gain some experience, and also help build goodwill for your team.”

Zhou Mi choked, nodded, and watched her leave.

To be honest, over the past month, she had chatted or played games with Jijie very few times, countable on both hands. Such rumors probably had an inextricable connection with some of Zhang Lian’s anonymous romantic gestures. She needed to emphasize to him, when she got back, not to send her various mysterious flowers and candies anymore.

Zhou Mi sighed, returned to her workstation, where Ye Yan, dressed in a red dress, was speaking nicely on the phone with a client, but her eye-rolling and continuously moving lips made her look like a goldfish lacking oxygen.

Zhou Mi kept an eye on her for a while, wanting to take the opportunity to clarify her relationship with Jijie to avoid more misunderstandings, but Ye Yan showed no signs of stopping.

Feeling that she couldn’t join the conversation for a while, Zhou Mi could only touch her mouse to brighten the screen, take a sip of tea, and continue working on the monthly report.

Ye Yan’s phone call was indeed “protracted.”

After nearly half an hour, she finally put down her phone, pounding her chest and gulping water.

Zhou Mi glanced at her and asked: “What’s wrong?”

Ye Yan sighed: “It’s that troublemaker from Enmei. The dynamic QR codes are all done, and suddenly, they want changes. How am I supposed to tell the design team?”

She thought for a moment, then suddenly looked at Zhou Mi: “Can you say something in the group?”

Zhou Mi was stunned: “What?”

Ye Yan said, “In the Enmei Milk group with the client. Tag him and tell him that redoing the static confirmation will cost extra because it’s essentially remade.”

Zhou Mi became slightly nervous: “How should I say it?”

Ye Yan: “Think of it yourself.”

Zhou Mi tilted her head, scratched her head, feeling uncomfortable: “What if I say it wrong and upset the client?”

Ye Yan said, “You won’t. Just express it clearly. Hurry up, I need to tell the creative team once we get feedback.”

Zhou Mi said, “Alright.”

She opened Word, as if writing a speech for a thousand-person rally, racking her brains to edit a polite and appropriate text message.

Feeling that she had expressed it adequately, she copied it to Ye Yan for review, lacking confidence.

Ye Yan laughed: “Are you writing a self-criticism?”

Zhou Mi: “…”

Ye Yan helped simplify it into two small paragraphs, changing some wording and tone, and sent it back for her reference.

Zhou Mi carefully compared the two versions in the chat history. Indeed, Ye Yan’s version was not only concise and clear but also more professional and forceful, neither humble nor overbearing.

Ye Yan said, “Just clarify the matter. The client is just the father, not the great-grandfather.”

Zhou Mi nodded and said “Mmm,” indicating she had learned.

Zhou Mi first cautiously tagged the client group name, then conveyed this fee-adding request.

The client quickly replied: Do we need to pay extra?

No one in the group spoke immediately, making Zhou Mi increasingly nervous. She carefully poked an “Mmm,” entered, and then looked to Ye Yan for guidance on the next step.

She found Ye Yan intensely typing, with the chat window on screen appearing to be the same group.

Zhou Mi secretly let out a breath, relaxing her tense hands on the keyboard.

The next moment, she saw her leader appear in the group, as if having been waiting for the right moment:

Aoxing-Yan: This is our first cooperation with Enmei, we’ll do a favor, forget about the money.

Aoxing-Yan: [Fist salute]

The client understandingly and gratefully replied with a Fist salute.

Zhou Mi was dumbfounded, staring at the screen for a long time without moving her gaze.

Could it be done this way? Wasn’t this selling her out? She had taken great pains to avoid offending the client, but she still ended up being the bad cop?

Zhou Mi’s ears inexplicably deepened in color, spreading to her cheeks. After a long silence, she turned her head, confused, to look at Ye Yan, wanting clarity.

As if anticipating this, Ye Yan turned her face at the same moment, curved her lips without any anomaly, and said sincerely: “Mimi, thank you.”

—

This was the first time Zhou Mi felt uncertain about her superior. In these few months at Aoxing, Ye Yan had always been an invincible female warrior in her heart, a finely crafted compass, able to defend against all attacks and also guide the way.

Despite the difficulty in dispelling her accumulated frustration throughout the day, Zhou Mi didn’t tell Zhang Lian about this incident.

He had been out all day.

At six o’clock, he texted to tell her he would be eating at the hotel, staying quite late, and asked her to go home by herself, being careful on the way.

Zhou Mi deliberately replied with a bit of attitude: Then I’ll sleep in the second bedroom tonight.

He had already figured out her pattern: I’ll also sleep in the second bedroom, remember to leave the door open for me.

Zhou Mi smiled broadly: Didn’t you complain that my Aiyilian Club decorations make it hard to sleep?

Zhang Lian: It doesn’t affect me much when you’re there.

Zhou Mi: I’m not a comfort blanket.

Zhang Lian: You’re a bedtime story.

Zhou Mi’s heart blossomed as she said, “Oh.”

Actually, as long as they weren’t at the company, Zhang Lian would report his daily schedule to her in detail.

This often gave Zhou Mi the illusion that she and Zhang Lian were a newly married couple.

As early as when she was around ten years old, she had girlishly imagined the scenes and details of her future marriage, with one indispensable key scene being: a husband socializing outside, a wife washing her hands to cook soup.

Just like her parents, each performing their duties, occasionally arguing, but warm and secure.

But after entering high school and college, her subjective consciousness strengthened, and under the influence of various thoughts and social news, she gradually changed her views, establishing the idea that a personal career was far more important than being a good wife and mother.

Before dating Lu Ming, she had no clear mate selection criteria in her mind.

But after dating Lu Ming, her partner became concrete, taking on Lu Ming’s image. They had traveled to many places, mountains and clouds, sunsets and long rivers, endless flower forests and grasslands. They had also prayed to Buddha, tied wishing locks, writing on wooden tags bound with red thread, wishing and drawing two squeezed-together Q-version smiling faces, firmly believing they would grow old together, share the same bed in life, and the same grave in death.

However, all these rituals and beliefs scattered in the humid air of an Egret Island summer night, becoming more insubstantial than blue smoke.

After the breakup, her established, vivid, and clear mate selection criteria also blurred like a melted resin painting.

Until today.

Now she had a new lover, her love for him not necessarily shallower than for Lu Ming before.

But in her subconscious, she had never equated Zhang Lian with the term “husband,” and even clearly knew he was not the right person.

Because she understood his choice not to marry, she also tried to control herself from harboring unnecessary expectations.

But even so, standing in the countdown of the three months, Zhou Mi still felt the anxiety of a major exam result, of impending judgment.

It was like being tied from head to toe to the hands of a clock, each day passing in circles of suspension, either fast or slow.

She couldn’t change Zhang Lian, nor could Zhang Lian change her. But they had to submit an answer that was either A or B.

So they both avoided mentioning this matter, “enjoying” the present, procrastinating in unison.

After showering, Zhou Mi returned to her room.

Since they stopped using separate rooms, the color of the bedding in Zhang Lian’s bedroom had become much richer and brighter, changing from black-gray to the current light chestnut or misty blue.

To accommodate her experience and preferences.

Zhou Mi didn’t say that she didn’t mind the previous color scheme.

The group was still making final preparations for tomorrow’s proposal. Zhou Mi joined in with a few words, no longer unfamiliar, able to insert herself well. In the month or so since becoming a regular employee, she had gradually adopted the Aoxing atmosphere—this was how Zhang Lian described her.

And on the night she received this evaluation, she had been spinning in circles in the living room while making multiple similar calls to media contacts like customer service, resulting in a sweat-soaked head.

Zhang Lian had sat on the sofa, watching her silently with a smile.

Like an interested invigilator or interviewer.

After finishing the last call, he asked: “Done?”

Zhou Mi calmed herself and checked: “Yes, no more.”

She was then picked up horizontally by him and tucked into the main bathroom to shower together. They kept kissing deeply or lightly in the swirling steam, kissing for a while then stopping to press their noses together, laughing unconsciously, with skin covered in what might have been water or sweat.

Considering she had to go to the company very early tomorrow, Zhou Mi turned off her phone earlier than usual and lay back in bed.

She messaged Zhang Lian: I’m going to sleep now, have to leave for the K Record building at nine tomorrow morning.

Zhang Lian replied: Okay.

After thinking, she asked: When will you be back?

Zhang Lian directly called her.

Zhou Mi answered and heard him say, “On the way.”

Zhou Mi said, “Oh,” then spoke with a nasal tone: “Then—should I wait for you?”

Zhang Lian said, “Selfishly, I hope you wait, but conscientiously, I want you to sleep early.”

Zhou Mi curved her lips: “I’ll wait a bit, after all, I have a tiny bit of selfishness for you.”

Zhang Lian said, “Go to sleep, I’ll still be fifteen minutes.”

Zhou Mi said, “How can I sleep now? Telling me the exact time just makes it hard to fall asleep, counting the minutes.”

Zhang Lian laughed: “I just meant I won’t be home right away.”

Zhou Mi tilted her body, occupying Zhang Lian’s pillow: “What if I insist on waiting for you?”

Zhang Lian said, “Then I’ll have to drive faster.”

Zhou Mi bit her thumb, unable to control her silly smile: “You’d better mind your safety. I’ll play a game while waiting for you.”

Zhang Lian immediately changed his tone, sounding a bit fierce: “Go to sleep.”

Zhou Mi almost laughed out loud: “What’s wrong with me playing alone?”

Zhang Lian said, “Keep it under fifteen minutes.”

After hanging up, Zhou Mi opened Honor of Kings, planning to play a quick match of chaos mode to pass the boring wait for Zhang Lian. Unexpectedly, as soon as she logged in, she was pulled into a duo ranked game by Jijie’s alternate account.

Worried he would start immediately, she hurriedly opened voice chat: “Sorry! I probably can’t play ranked tonight.”

Jijie replied: “Because you need to sleep early?”

Zhou Mi made an “Mmm” sound: “I have to go to your place very early tomorrow.”

Jijie said, “You seem to be in a good mood, playing games so late.”

Zhou Mi paused: “Anyway, I’m not the one presenting or answering questions, just going to observe and learn,” she added, “You go ahead with ranked, I’ll just play one chaos match and then sleep.”

Jijie said, “Let’s play together.”

Zhou Mi was slightly surprised: “That works too, though it feels like a waste of your talent.”

As soon as she finished speaking, Jijie had already left the team and reopened the mode.

For some reason, this entertainment mode that should have ended in eight or nine minutes became very sticky. By twelve minutes, Zhou Mi was already restless, constantly worried that Zhang Lian would suddenly return home. Just as they finally pushed the second tower, the living room door pierced her ears like a magical sound.

Zhou Mi’s heart skipped a beat, hastily closed the voice speaker, and quickly typed in the team channel during her downtime: I might need to AFK for a minute or two.

Jijie replied:?

Zhou Mi: Feel free to report me! Just don’t be angry!

She quickly stuffed her phone under the pillow, closed her eyes pretending to sleep, and tried to keep her breathing even.

In the darkness, she heard Zhang Lian enter the room, his footsteps approaching her side of the bed, making her clench her fingers under the covers.

Her forehead was kissed once, as if he was deliberately controlling his force, making the kiss almost imperceptibly light, like a butterfly wing passing by.

Zhou Mi’s knuckles turned white from clenching to prevent herself from obviously smiling.

The man’s breath faded as he walked to the bathroom and closed the door, after which the sound of water could be faintly heard.

Zhou Mi let out a long breath, retrieving her phone and turning it on.

On the screen, the game had ended, and they were the winning team.

Her brow suddenly tightened as she quickly switched back to WeChat to apologize to Jijie: I’m really sorry, something suddenly came up.

Jijie replied: It’s okay, we won anyway.

Zhou Mi sent over a small girl bowing in apology emoji: Please don’t hold my AFK behavior against my company’s team, I beg you.

Jijie also sent a “don’t mind these details” expression: How could I? I’m not that kind of person.

He then asked: You’re coming to my place tomorrow, right?

Zhou Mi replied: Yes.

Jijie said: Your team is the last session in the morning. Why don’t you have lunch with me after it’s over?