The next morning, as usual, Cheng Yao slept until her alarm went off before getting up.

Ever since the weather had turned cold, she’d had a hard time waking up properly, and so, standing in the living room, seeing Qian Heng sitting on the couch, it took her a moment to register what she was looking at.

Cheng Yao instinctively checked her phone again. Eight fifteen. That was right.

At this hour on any normal day, there was no way Qian Heng would still be home—he’d surely have already arrived at the firm long ago. Why hadn’t he left yet today?

Full of questions, Cheng Yao finished washing up, and just as she picked up the breakfast box she’d prepared the day before, Qian Heng—who had been sitting motionless until then—finally stood up.

His expression was calm, his words terse. “Let’s go.”

Cheng Yao: ???

Qian Heng glanced at her. “Hurry up, what are you standing there for? Don’t want a ride?”

Cheng Yao snapped to it, delighted. “I do! I do! Thanks, boss!”

Qian Heng’s manner was so self-assured, so utterly convinced that anything he did or said was reasonable and beyond question, that Cheng Yao momentarily forgot to wonder why her esteemed boss had actually waited to give her a ride to work today.

When the car reached an intersection not far from the Junheng office building, Cheng Yao spoke up considerately. “Boss, pull over here, I can just get out.”

Qian Heng blinked, then said, somewhat awkwardly, “You don’t necessarily have to get out. It’s foggy out there today anyway, no one will be able to see clearly.”

“That won’t do!” Cheng Yao countered, lecturing him in turn. “Boss, so many things go wrong because of a single careless lapse—didn’t you teach me that yourself? You especially can’t let your guard down on small details. Don’t assume that just because it’s foggy today, nobody will notice me getting out of your car. If word got out and people misunderstood, that would be really bad.”

“…”

Without waiting for Qian Heng to respond, Cheng Yao promptly opened the car door at the intersection, thanked him, and hopped out at lightning speed.

The whole sequence unfolded so smoothly that Qian Heng didn’t even have time to stop her before he saw her bound out of his car like a nimble little rabbit.

…

Somehow, he felt a distinct sense of displeasure.

That displeasure of Qian Heng’s reached its peak once he arrived at Junheng.

“Qian Heng, this Saturday is your twenty-eighth birthday!” Wu Jun had settled into his office chair early that morning, legs crossed, grinning with calculation on his face. “A man’s twenty-eighth year, that’s a real turning point. After twenty-eight, all your physical and mental faculties start declining. Before, you could go three rounds a night—after this, once a night will be doing well.”

Wu Jun stared at Qian Heng, looking thoroughly punchable. “So twenty-eight is a man’s last hurrah, his final wild fling of youth. As your friend of so many years, I can’t just let you waste your last youth working overtime again on your birthday.”

Qian Heng didn’t even look up. “Not necessary. Spending it with you would be a waste of my youth in itself.”

Undeterred, Wu Jun cleared his throat and, entirely unfazed by Qian Heng’s murderous glare, went ahead and announced—

“I’ve decided. This Saturday, at your villa, we’ll invite everyone at Junheng and hold you a special send-off birthday party. Sure, you don’t even have a partner, but bidding farewell to your prime, vigorous twenty-eighth year surrounded by colleagues’ love as you head toward thirty—at least you won’t be too lonely about it.”

“I object to this event,” Qian Heng said, expressionless. “We’re all lawyers, everyone’s busy. On Saturday everyone would rather rest at home. Don’t force people to come to some birthday party.”

“No forcing involved!” Wu Jun said excitedly. “I already sent out the group email about the party this morning. The response has been extremely enthusiastic!”

“…”

Qian Heng paused, then asked, as if only casually curious, “Oh, who all signed up, then?”

“Wang Lu, Li Menglei, Chen Cheng, plus everyone in Admin, everyone in Finance…”

“And?”

“Oh, and Bao Rui, Tan Ying, Zhang Qiang…”

Qian Heng continued asking, as if it were nothing much. “No one else?”

“Oh, right, there’s also Cheng Yao.” Wu Jun glanced at his phone. “She just replied to the email confirming too.”

Ah.

“See, so many people have already signed up. Are you really going to insist on cancelling this party?” Even though Wu Jun had gone ahead and done this presumptuously, he had no real confidence in it—when had Qian Heng ever cared about other people’s feelings? Even if the entire universe signed up for his birthday party, if he wasn’t in the mood, the entire universe could go take a hike.

But today, Qian Heng was apparently in a rather good mood.

Although he still didn’t spare Wu Jun so much as a glance, his expression as calm as ever, Wu Jun could distinctly hear a note of pleasure in his flat, toneless voice.

“Oh, fine. Since so many colleagues want to come, I suppose I’m not entirely opposed to grudgingly holding a birthday party.”

The moment Cheng Yao arrived at the office that day, Bao Rui and Tan Ying surrounded her, both looking rather uneasy.

Bao Rui clutched his chest, his expression theatrically anguished. “I’m so worried.”

Tan Ying rubbed her forehead, wearing a face of deep concern. “Me too, I’m so worried.”

Cheng Yao: ???

Bao Rui shook his head. “I couldn’t sleep well last night. I kept thinking, why did Qian Par suddenly go live like that? Is it because he feels making money off professional expertise is too hard and exhausting, without any adoring fans? Whereas livestreaming, selling his looks, one night’s worth of gift commissions could be several tens of thousands, easy.”

Tan Ying wiped away a fake tear too. “Our Qian Par isn’t going to abandon us and debut center stage as an influencer, is he?”

Bao Rui: “If Qian Par debuts center stage, I wonder if he could get me an autograph from my favorite group, 18Girls.”

Tan Ying: “If Qian Par debuts center stage, I’ll quit and follow him into the industry—maybe in two years I’ll get to exploit some pretty boy idols myself.”

“…”

Cheng Yao was utterly torn between laughing and crying at these two drama queens playing off each other.

Finally Bao Rui broke character first. “Oh right, this Saturday is Qian Par’s birthday party—have you two figured out what gifts you’re getting him?”

Cheng Yao looked blank. “Birthday party???”

Tan Ying nodded. “Check your email. Wu Par organized it, it’s happening at Qian Par’s big villa. Last week the bar association told us to submit some materials and photos for a Junheng party-member activity, and Wu Par said this could count as Junheng’s party activity this time, themed around ‘liberating our thinking.'”

Bao Rui snickered. “Right, that night we really need to get some good liberation of thought going.”

Cheng Yao could barely resist screaming internally, Bao Rui! I think your thinking has already been liberated a bit too much!

But she’d spoken carelessly, and the listener had taken it seriously. After Cheng Yao replied to the party confirmation email, she began agonizing over what gift to get Qian Heng.

By reason and by sentiment, she felt she ought to give something suitably classy.

All along, Cheng Yao had felt deeply grateful toward Qian Heng—he was an excellent boss, a thoroughly dedicated mentor.

And beyond all that, setting those things aside, Cheng Yao genuinely wanted to give Qian Heng something nice. She thought, without a second thought, that after all, the two of them also had a roommate bond living together—this kind of impulse was perfectly normal.

During lunch break, she couldn’t resist calling Qin Qin.

“So, my boss’s birthday is coming up, and I want to get him a gift—what do you think I should get?”

Because of her work in PR and marketing, Qin Qin was very knowledgeable about luxury goods, but hearing this from Cheng Yao, she was quite surprised. “A gift for that venomous boss of yours?”

“Yep!”

“Fair enough, gotta keep the boss happy.” Qin Qin thought it over. “Actually, I have a client with a gift box that would suit this perfectly.”

“This client of mine does both established luxury brands and light-luxury custom pieces. Christmas is coming up soon, right? They just launched two gift box lines—one for couples, Gift Box A; and one aimed at elders, or superior-subordinate workplace relationships, Gift Box B.” Once talk turned to work matters, Qin Qin’s tone turned brisk and efficient. “I’ve seen the samples, they’re really nice, nothing else on the market right now can match them, very high-end. Want me to get you Gift Box B at the insider price through my client?”

“What’s inside Gift Box B?”

“What’s inside is exactly the gimmick—it’s like a gacha, every box is different. If you choose the men’s box, it might contain a limited-edition scarf, a tie, wine, a men’s cologne, vintage vinyl records, or even a painting by a somewhat well-known artist. There’s usually a small playful surprise thrown in too, which makes it interesting—because of all that, every box is one of a kind, very original.”

Cheng Yao’s eyes lit up! It sounded exactly like the kind of tasteful thing Qian Heng would like!

“Great! I want to order one of those boxes—but I need it by this Saturday, can you get it shipped to me in time?”

Qin Qin thought it over. “Should be fine. I’ll send you my contact’s info, I’ve already put in a word for you. Just reach out to him directly.”

Cheng Yao quickly added the contact.

The man on the other end was quite direct: “Is the little miss sending this to a woman or a man?”

“A man! Gift Box B!”

“Do you want anything printed on the little card?”

“Yes, please! Print ‘Wishing my boss boundless fortune and a long, healthy life.'” Cheng Yao thought about it, then added, a bit sheepishly, “Also add ‘bring me riches, bring me success’ on there too.”

She’d spent good money on this gift, so while flattering him, she figured she might as well hint at her own little selfish wish too.

After all, even with Qin Qin’s connections and getting it at cost price, the caliber of this gift still ran Cheng Yao over two thousand yuan.

Still, having settled on Qian Heng’s gift, Cheng Yao felt rather pleased with herself.

The contact did complain a little—year-end was approaching and business in every industry was tough, he grumbled that far too many people were ordering this particular gift box, the factory couldn’t keep up with shipments, orders were piling up, and the staff handling deliveries weren’t being careful either, occasionally sending the wrong items and causing complaints and arguments. Cheng Yao offered him a few comforting words before finally hanging up, thanking him profusely.

Beyond that gift, she thought it over and decided she’d also bake Qian Heng a cake with her own hands. It might not be worth much and might not taste as good as one from a branded bakery, but it would still count as a token of her sincerity.