On her first day reporting to Olympus Star, Cen Jin deliberately curled her hair ends to make herself appear more experienced.

Her new colleagues didn’t pay much attention to such details. After arriving at the department, Cen Jin briefly met everyone, but before she could even warm her chair, she was called to the conference room.

Olympus Star was located in a skyscraper in Yi City’s CBD, less than eight hundred meters from her former employer.

As a rising star in the advertising industry, Olympus Star’s atmosphere was notably younger and more energetic. The entire office was decorated in a red and white color scheme matching their logo, appearing bold and vibrant.

Fresh to the company, Cen Jin was immediately entrusted with an important task:

A multinational fast-food enterprise’s Christmas promotional project, with their company securing all domestic social media aspects.

This was a major campaign, and the client company, while wealthy and generous, was notorious in the industry for its arrogance and pickiness. Olympus Star didn’t dare take it lightly, assembling a team of at least ten people.

Cen Jin arrived quite early, so she sat quietly in her chair waiting. Soon, the spacious all-white conference table was crowded with people, most equipped with their laptops.

As far as she could see, all faces were young, but few looked spirited – victims of frequent overnight work sessions.

Before getting to the main topic, the Creative Director leading this proposal stood up and specially introduced the only unfamiliar face in the room: “Cen Jin, our new copywriter.”

He was from Hong Kong, with crew-cut hair, wearing just a plain black t-shirt, and his arms muscular. Speaking animatedly with a noticeable Cantonese accent, he said: “As everyone knows, Olympus Star hires based on looks first, which is perfectly demonstrated in Miss Cen’s case.”

Everyone laughed, looking toward Cen Jin. She lowered her eyes, only managing a slight smile in return.

The man suddenly changed his tone: “But Cen Jin participated in M’s Mid-Autumn Festival new product marketing project last year, so her experience might be richer than everyone else here.”

Unexpectedly praised so highly, Cen Jin became embarrassed. She waved her hand, appearing unable to accept such praise: “I was just going through the motions, please don’t have such high expectations of me.”

“Perfect,” the Director raised his eyebrows, breaking into an instantly agreeable wide smile: “Please don’t have high expectations of us either.”

Everyone laughed again, the atmosphere harmonious.

After the simple welcome ceremony ended, the man’s expression became solemn as he bent down to operate the mouse.

The screen immediately displayed a brief yet stylish PPT animation opening, and his tone shifted from playful to gentlemanly and steady: “The final presentation of some videos this time might differ slightly from what we mentioned in our previous pitch…”

—

Back at her workstation, Cen Jin logged into WeChat on her computer, specifically looking for her new CD’s ID in the member list.

It was just an extremely contrasting English name: Teddy.

She raised her eyebrows in surprise, changing her group display name to: OlympusStar-Gin.

Her attention to the department head wasn’t due to any romantic interest in him, but rather because the new leader’s aura was completely different from Wu Fu’s. Wu Fu was very gentlemanly, approaching even the most imaginative ideas with caution, but Teddy was different, possessing a wild gazelle-like rebelliousness.

The girl at the next desk, seeing her main screen staying on Teddy’s profile page, leaned over to warn her: “Don’t get interested in him, he’s the kind of man women can’t have.”

Cen Jin understood immediately and closed it, smiling back: “No, I just wanted to learn about my new boss.”

“That’s what I thought, being in this industry so long, how could you not have such sensitivity,” the girl rolled her chair back to drink her coffee: “Want to add WeChat? I’m Lu Qiqi.”

Cen Jin accepted her friend request; her online name was lucky.

The girl looked at her phone, suddenly paused, and asked in a low voice: “You just got divorced?”

Cen Jin nodded.

Lu Qiqi gave a thumbs up: “And posted it on Moments, impressive,” then brushed her V-shaped bangs and asked curiously: “How did you get divorced?”

“Stop gossiping, did you submit the images?” A brand new employee ID card was placed on Cen Jin’s desk, along with a compliment: “The photo turned out nice.”

He left like a whirlwind before Lu Qiqi could even retort.

Cen Jin remembered that distinctive low voice – Olympus Star’s HR, Zhang Jue. She had briefly met him during the interview.

He was a curly-haired guy wearing glasses, his eyes always carrying a sleepy laziness, looking more like a core member of the technical department than someone from HR.

Just as she was about to put away the new ID card, Lu Qiqi snatched it faster, held it up, looked at it for a while, then peeked out one eye from behind the PC plate: “It is pretty, so which studio took the ID photo?”

“The one on the third floor of Jingyuan Mall.”

“Oh, thanks…” Lu Qiqi responded, returning the ID card to her.

For some reason, Cen Jin didn’t mind Lu Qiqi’s friendliness; she had an aura that resonated well with her.

For now, she’d call it the “spring vitality” aura.

No more idle chat, Cen Jin returned to her workstation. Someone in the group had just tagged her – it was her “lamb” boss:

OlympusStar-teddy: @OlympusStar-Li Fei, tell her about the video direction @OlympusStar-Gin

Cen Jin replied with a “1” to show she was listening.

Teddy: Hahahahaha we got a 1.

Everyone laughed, including Cen Jin.

Finally, Li Fei brought the order back, replying to Cen Jin: For their classic wing bucket, we want to make a pixel game animation short video, like Super Mario, but with a Christmas background. Can you flesh it out? Need a plot, highlight the product, and end with a slogan.

Cen Jin replied: I have some ideas.

Li Fei: Just write it up and send it to me when done.

Cen Jin asked: When do you need it?

Li Fei: As soon as possible.

Cen Jin: Tonight.

Li Fei: ok.

…

Returning to this work pace, Cen Jin felt slightly unaccustomed, after all, transitioning from idle to busy was challenging.

By quitting time, her shoulder blades were sore, and she couldn’t help but stretch her arms and yawn.

Lu Qiqi, sucking on a lollipop, glanced over and asked: “Tired?”

Cen Jin leaned over to look at her display; the girl was adjusting the QR code size in a poster. She asked: “Is this the Christmas new combo?”

Lu Qiqi mocked: “Yeah, looks completely different from what I usually eat.”

Cen Jin asked: “When are you getting off work?”

“Soon, I guess,” Lu Qiqi picked up her phone to check, her mouth twitching slightly: “Just three hours from now.”

Cen Jin smiled, turning back to pack her bag.

Lu Qiqi pulled the lollipop from between her teeth, incredulous: “You’re leaving now?”

Cen Jin blinked: “I’m done with everything.”

“You submitted your draft already?” Lu Qiqi’s almond eyes widened.

“Mm, Li Fei thought it was okay, took it to show the animation director first.”

“Holy shit, so this is what someone from a 4A agency is like.” Lu Qiqi exclaimed, banging her head against the keyboard.

Cen Jin just smiled without speaking, shouldering her bag to leave.

Passing the Creative Director’s office, suddenly someone called out: “Cen Jin! Gin! Miss Cen!”

Cen Jin turned around; Teddy was waving at her from behind the glass wall of his private office.

She went around to his office, stopping at the door, and waiting until the person inside nodded before quickly walking in.

Teddy gestured for her to sit on the sofa, so she settled into a single seat.

The man got her a bottle of pure water and sat down as well: “Heading home?”

Cen Jin: “Mm.”

His teeth were dazzlingly white, his smile full of warmth and goodwill: “How was your first day here?”

Cen Jin answered honestly: “Not bad.”

Teddy said: “These couple of days are quite busy, let’s get together on the weekend, and have a welcome dinner with everyone.”

Cen Jin smiled politely: “Sure, I’ll treat you if you don’t mind.”

“NO! I disagree I do mind,” Teddy’s slightly brown pupils always seemed deeply affectionate: “Please let me have this opportunity.”

Cen Jin curved her lips: “No problem.”

—

That same evening, Li Wu was still bent over his desk doing problems in the classroom.

After the afternoon class meeting, he no longer sat alone against the back wall but moved forward five rows and gained an English class representative as his deskmate.

Coincidentally, this class representative was Tang Yuwen, whom his roommate Cheng Rui had been pining for.

After changing seats, the girl sweetly greeted him, and out of politeness, he responded.

As a result, before evening self-study, when walking together to dinner, Cheng Rui was murderous, his eyes looking like he wanted to eat someone.

Li Wu had a headache and didn’t dare say another word to Tang Yuwen. During the second period, the math teacher came in holding a stack of test papers, saying they would have a pop quiz.

At this moment, the entire Class 10 could only be described as a scene of widespread devastation.

The teacher turned a deaf ear and smilingly distributed the papers, and everyone could only painfully write their names and force themselves to answer the questions.

The classroom was silent.

Until — the teacher went out to take a phone call and didn’t return for a long time.

The class finally broke into whispers, like dough in its initial stages of fermentation, restless.

Pencil tips scratched paper, Li Wu’s brows slightly furrowed as he remained focused on calculating on his scratch paper, when suddenly, his elbow was gently nudged.

Li Wu glanced sideways to see his new desk mate carefully pushing over a folded note with the back of her hand.

His brows furrowed even tighter as he looked at Tang Yuwen. The girl had her hair in a ponytail, her side bangs falling naturally, hiding her profile, her expression indiscernible.

Li Wu was confused but could only grip the note in his palm and open it to read.

It only had a few words:

“What’s your WeChat number

By Tang Yuwen”

Li Wu was slightly stunned, folded the note back to its original shape, put it back in the drawer, and then there was no further response…

The class bell rang, the teacher returned to collect the papers, and some boys who hadn’t finished writing called out begging for mercy. The middle-aged man behind the podium smiled as he shattered all their hopes of leniency: “Write as much as you can!”

Li Wu packed up his backpack and sat motionless in his place.

Tang Yuwen’s seat was near the corridor. She packed her bag methodically and left with some familiar female classmates.

Only then did Li Wu rise as if granted amnesty and walk toward the classroom door.

Cheng Rui, who had been waiting by the door for a long time, immediately hooked his arm around his neck and jumped up to vigorously rub his hair.

Li Wu shrank his neck and pushed away his hand: “What are you doing?”

Cheng Rui smiled brilliantly: “Congratulations, you passed the humanity test!”

“?” His words made no sense.

Cheng Rui clicked his tongue: “The note.”

Li Wu asked: “What note?”

“The note I wrote.”

Only then did Li Wu realize, suddenly feeling absurd: “So you wrote it?”

“Of course, otherwise how would it be a test? I asked Tang Yuwen to pass it to you, she even thought I wanted to cheat on you, haha, a friend’s wife is not to be coveted, from now on you, Li Wu, are my lifelong good brother,” Cheng Rui, thick-skinned beyond measure, continued to hook arms with him without any psychological burden: “Come on, good brothers walk together for life.”

Li Wu had nothing to say, shrugged off his arm, and walked away with his head down, finally spitting out two cold words after a long while: “You’re sick.”

“Damn,” Cheng Rui heard him curse for the first time: “What prehistoric wonder was that just now? Should have recorded it.”

Li Wu kept his hands in his pockets, continuing to walk quickly.

Cheng Rui pursued relentlessly: “Why are you angry, is it because you’re heartbroken it wasn’t really written by Tang Yuwen? Is that it?”

Li Wu stopped and denied: “No.” Then continued walking downstairs.

“Then why won’t you wait for me, we’re not love rivals.” Cheng Rui jogged to catch up.

Li Wu still wouldn’t look back.

Cheng Rui started shouting, putting on a face to beg forgiveness: “I was wrong, I know I was wrong! I won’t do it again, okay? I have my Tang Yuwen, you have your online girlfriend! We won’t interfere with each other, alright!”

These words seemed like an extremely effective spell, and the boy suddenly slowed his steps, his cold aura instantly dissipating.

Cheng Rui seized the opportunity to hook his arm, no longer letting go, giggling as they returned together to the dormitory building.

After washing up, Li Wu read some chemistry notes for a while, then put them aside, took out his phone from the drawer, and opened WeChat.

The first thing he did was still to look at Cen Jin’s Moments.

The woman’s status remained on that divorce certificate photo that had once excited him to the point of sleeplessness.

Li Wu opened it again, never tiring of looking at it, able to activate his smile switch in an instant.

He knew she had just changed companies and wanted to check on her, but didn’t know how to bring it up.

After struggling internally for quite a while, the rational army in his mind finally threw down their armor and weapons, and the youth’s hand pressed the keyboard, starting to type.

—

At the same moment, Cen Jin sat on her bed with her laptop spread in front of her, concentrating on reviewing past client cases that Teddy had sent for reference.

Undeniably, the little lamb was indeed a very responsible boss who knew how to take care of people.

Suddenly, her phone made a WeChat notification sound.

She picked it up to look, somewhat surprised.

Li Wu: How was today, are you adjusting well?

Cen Jin tilted her head puzzled.

Why did this line seem somehow familiar?

She immediately switched to her messages to verify her guess, and sure enough, on this kid’s first day of transfer, she had sent him the same content.

Cen Jin took a screenshot and sent it over.

And asked: Plagiarizing me?

Li Wu: …

He immediately confessed: Mm.

Then explained he didn’t know how else to ask appropriately.

Cen Jin was amused by his sincerity, typing back four characters: Very good, thanks.

The boy didn’t reply for a long time, probably instantly fell asleep, after all, he was diligently studying every day, hanging his head from a beam and pricking his thigh with an awl.

Just as she was about to put down her phone, the other side sent another message: Have you made any new work friends?

Cen Jin scoffed in disbelief. She pressed her lips together, rapidly typing and sending: Addicted to copying, are you? Go to sleep.

The other side was silent for a moment, then obediently replied with a muffled:

Li Wu: Oh.

Li Wu: Good night.