“Done.”

Liang Meng closed the laptop and gave the desk a light tap as she rose to her feet.

“Mathematics — you’re better at it than I am.”

She stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, arms crossed, and gave Lin Qing a glance over her shoulder.

“But ever since I was young, my mathematics teacher told me: the process doesn’t matter — only the result does.”

“In that case… would President Liang like to hear my conclusion first?”

Lin Qing walked over quietly and came to stand just behind her.

“Go ahead.”

Liang Meng lowered her head and toyed with her nails.

“President Liang, forgive me for being direct. Whether it’s the audio recording or the data — both point to the same thing. Someone close to you sold you out.”

What Lin Qing meant was: you weren’t careful enough.

Liang Meng let out a wry, soundless laugh. She swept her wavy hair back and turned around to meet Lin Qing’s gaze with a challenging look of her own.

“President Liang — the person who recorded you. You already know who it is, don’t you?”

Lin Qing pressed on, hoping Liang Meng would give her a name.

It would make the next steps much clearer.

“You wouldn’t know them even if I told you.”

But Liang Meng said nothing — she was still keeping her guard up.

Lin Qing was a little disappointed.

There are two kinds of showing up to work.

One kind: ring the bell as a monk, day after day, getting by with minimal effort.

The other kind: die for the one who truly sees you — and do so without a moment’s hesitation.

Trust is a two-way street.

Liang Meng had already tested her once. Now it was Lin Qing’s turn.

The question Lin Qing was about to ask would directly determine how much effort she was willing to put into helping Liang Meng.

“President Liang, may I ask you something sincerely?” Lin Qing gathered her courage.

“Go ahead.”

Liang Meng gave her the opening.

Lin Qing didn’t ask directly. Instead, she suddenly and very calmly began taking off her clothes.

Her jacket. Her blouse. Her pencil skirt. Her shoes. Her socks…

One piece at a time, methodically, until she was left with only a slip dress — the bare minimum of decency.

She laid each piece on the chair across from Liang Meng, one by one. Then she finally spoke:

“President Liang, may I know why you were so determined to replace Zhou Zelong?”

This was her way of showing Liang Meng that she wasn’t carrying a recording device.

Liang Meng wouldn’t walk into the same trap twice. Only by doing this would she get the honest answer.

Liang Meng’s brow gave the slightest flutter. She bit the corner of her lip — visibly stunned by what Lin Qing had just done.

This girl!

Unconventional, bold — and yet somehow always knowing exactly the right move to make.

Liang Meng had never told a single person the real reason she had fired Zhou Zelong. Not even Jiang Han.

But Lin Qing had already been this “nakedly honest” with her — and Liang Meng truly couldn’t bring herself to lie in return.

She also wanted to see whether Lin Qing was someone who truly shared her values. Weighing the risk, she decided to take the gamble and said: “Because he tickled my palm.”

“…What?”

Lin Qing’s face showed complete incomprehension.

Liang Meng sighed and explained quietly: “For so many years, Longquan’s spokesperson had always been Zhou Zelong. But last year, the CEO position shifted from my sister to me. The day we signed the contract, I had a vague feeling — when we shook hands, Zhou Zelong gave my palm a suggestive little scratch. So I decided to replace him.”

Liang Meng had pre-set a test for herself: if Lin Qing reacted with any hint of “you replaced a spokesperson over something this small?” — she would swap out the assistant on the spot.

But what Lin Qing said was: “Better safe than sorry. Zhou Zelong is married with three kids and he’s still pulling moves like that out there — he deserves to be dropped.”

“It might have been my imagination,” Liang Meng said, a trace of self-doubt creeping in. It had all been over in a flash — it was possible she had misread it.

“Absolutely not your imagination!”

Without warning, the same Lin Qing who had been speaking softly a moment ago suddenly raised her voice by a full octave, her eyes fierce with conviction — as if she had been there herself.

“President Liang, I promise you — no woman misreads the difference between a handshake and a palm scratch!”

Lin Qing was practically indignant on her behalf.

This girl either has genuine integrity, or she’s an Oscar-worthy actress. Liang Meng thought.

“And what if it was a mistake?” Liang Meng countered.

Lin Qing was unshaken: “I said it — when it comes to conduct like that, better to act and be wrong than let it slide. Besides, President Liang, you weren’t wrong regardless — Zhou Zelong is too old. Longquan Group does need new blood.”

Every single word was exactly what Liang Meng wanted to hear.

A remarkable alignment.

This stranger, Lin Qing, had given Liang Meng enormous confidence.

But time reveals a person’s true nature. Faced with a new assistant who had already stood firmly in her corner, Liang Meng simply offered a mild reminder: “Put your clothes back on. Don’t catch a cold.”

Lin Qing listened and got dressed.

“The one who sold me out is named Peter. He’s in the marketing department,” Liang Meng said, moving back to the floor-to-ceiling window and gazing out over the city below. “A thoroughly unreliable man. Spends lavishly on himself — always done up from head to toe, fishing for admiration wherever he goes.”

Compared to Peter, Liang Meng would sooner trust the intern in marketing — the one who scrimped and saved every month just to buy his girlfriend a Coach bag for Valentine’s Day.

Genuine loyalty is worth more than anything.

“That type has a name,” Lin Qing offered. “NPD. Narcissistic Personality Disorder.”

Lin Qing’s ex-boyfriend, Zeng Rui, had been exactly that kind of toxic personality.

The four years she had spent with Zeng Rui had broadened her horizons, but in material terms, she had come away with nothing to show for it.

Not that Lin Qing had ever been a “gold digger” — she didn’t feel cheated by that.

Zeng Rui would drop two thousand on a pair of trainers for himself without blinking, but rarely gave Lin Qing gifts.

In their first year together, he had given her a Pandora bracelet — one that still hadn’t tarnished.

Her roommates said the real ones tarnish.

But while they were together, Zeng Rui was surprisingly generous when it came to experiences.

The finest food, the best hotels — he even bought Lin Qing several sets of high-end Victoria’s Secret lingerie and asked her to wear them for him.

Lin Qing had promptly turned around and put the lingerie on Zeng Rui’s head, grinning wickedly: “Want to try something even more fun?”

Inwardly, she had already sentenced him to the lowest circle of hell — all desire, no love.

Those four years — honestly, it was hard to say who had used whom, who had accompanied whom.

But one thing was certain: she had never had real feelings for Zeng Rui.

Without real feelings, you can spend freely without regret.

With Lu Zhou, though, Lin Qing didn’t dare.

Even the smallest development with him felt like a major life decision.

“Weighing the pros and cons — that’s their only way of operating.”

Exactly right.

Whether it was NPD in general or Peter specifically — they would always defect to whoever offered the bigger, more secure foothold.

“Wait — President Liang!”

Lin Qing suddenly had a realization.

She stopped Liang Meng mid-sentence, eyes wide: “So… the recording. Was it you? Did you deliberately leak it?”

Liang Meng had known Peter wasn’t trustworthy — yet she had deliberately said all of that in front of him, giving him something to record. That meant she had set a trap.

“Is there a problem with that?”

Faced with Lin Qing’s stunned expression, Liang Meng simply gave her a cool, haughty look.

See through it, say nothing about it.

Lin Qing broke into a cold sweat. Understood.

So President Liang had wanted this to be irreversible — a public, undeniable statement to the world, inside and outside the company: Longquan was done with this celebrity, full stop.

She had never once doubted that the “palm scratch” was real.

This new boss plays hard.

The realization hit, and Lin Qing pointed at the computer. “In that case, President Liang — do you still need the presentation? If not, I’ll take the USB drive back.”

Liang Meng reached up to smooth the fringe from her eyes and held up a hand to stop her. “Keep it. We’ll use it in the senior management meeting in a bit.”

“What time is the meeting?”

Lin Qing checked her watch.

“Soon.” Liang Meng said, a trace of irritation surfacing as she lowered her crossed arms.

Lin Qing thought for a moment, then frowned as something occurred to her: “Wait — something doesn’t add up, President Liang. Replacing Zhou Zelong is already a done deal. The audio is out there. The online backlash — you’ve taken it all. This morning Zhou Zelong’s fans showed up and made a scene — that’s over too. So what exactly does a senior management meeting now accomplish? What’s the point?”

Liang Meng answered plainly: “Piling on a corpse.”

“They just want to make things difficult for you, President Liang.”

Lin Qing had no patience for people who kicked others when they were down.

When Lin Qing’s father had passed away, there had been those who genuinely cared — but there had also been others, cold-hearted and sharp-tongued, who had come to watch the spectacle. The kind who would say things like “Now that your father’s gone, Lin Qing, your mother’s sure to find someone new — what are you going to do about that?”

“Is there a way to handle it?”

Liang Meng asked.

The situation was one Liang Meng had walked herself into — but facing that entrenched old guard that had been dug into Longquan for years, she still felt a flicker of unease.

She could have gone to Jiang Han. She knew he would find her a clever, sharp-edged solution.

But Liang Meng refused to. Ever since Jiang Han and Liang Xing had “married,” she had made it a point of pride never to give in to him.

She would sooner die than ask.

Lin Qing thought hard, then said: “If they want to make things difficult, then we make things difficult right back.”

Back at her father’s funeral, when some of the adults had made their pointed, unkind remarks about “Mom finding someone new”, the young Lin Qing had looked straight up at them with wide, clear eyes — spine straight, unbowed — and answered them like this:

“You’re right! I can’t be left without a parent! How about this — you hurry up and get divorced, and let my mom marry your husband. That way, technically, you’d be my elder too, and you’d have every right to mind my business.”

“What?! You child! Have you lost your mind?! Your father’s body isn’t even cold yet, and you’re talking like this!”

“Exactly! My father’s body isn’t even cold yet, and you’re talking like that!”

“You! You you you! You little— You! I! You’ve made me furious!…”

From that day forward, not a single person ever dared chew over the topic of “Mom finding someone new” anywhere near Lin Qing.

“Make things difficult right back?”

Liang Meng repeated, uncertain. She was turning it over.

“How exactly?”

“If you haven’t figured out how yet, President Liang — just leave it to me. Getting into verbal scraps and saying unpleasant things is something I’m good at,” Lin Qing suggested. “And if we end up offending the shareholders and senior management too much, you’d still have a buffer — you can blame it on me, the new assistant who doesn’t know how to talk properly.”

Liang Meng gave a faint nod of agreement.

But she still had trouble making sense of it, and asked: “You want to charge in there for me? It’s your first day. Are you sure you want to offend every single senior manager and shareholder in Longquan all at once? You’ll still have to work with these people — are you really ready for that?”

Lin Qing smiled with easy resolve: “Whoever pays me is who I’m loyal to. I only have one father — and that’s the one who signs the cheques.”

“Pfft—”

Liang Meng didn’t know Lin Qing’s history. She only found the last line unexpectedly funny.

Lin Qing quietly bowed her head. Only she knew how much truth — and how much pain — was packed into those words.

Liang Meng was convinced. She made the call right then and there.

It was well past time to give that group of antiquated fossils entrenched in Longquan’s upper ranks a proper lesson.

A company that doesn’t dare to dream has no future — only a very dull present.