Zhou Mi was speechless for several seconds, choosing to selectively filter out the mortifyingly embarrassing “medical condition,” reassuring herself: This is praise and affirmation, isn’t it? [Cute]

The chat box remained still with no further activity. The other party seemed to have no intention of saving her dignity or playing along.

Zhou Mi waited for a minute, forced a smile, and exited the conversation interface.

Staring at Zhang Lian’s WeChat name for a moment, Zhou Mi pinned it to the top.

After all, she still had several tough battles ahead and couldn’t afford to miss any important intelligence from her comrade.

Zhou Mi flopped back onto her bed, trying to cultivate sleepiness, but the screenshot from earlier had injected a dose of stimulant into her brain. Her thoughts were like thousands of horses galloping through, like a typhoon passing by.

She decided to get up and sit back at her computer, logging into the company WeChat to check the chat records of several company groups, seeing if she could find more suitable work for herself.

As it turned out, the law of attraction did exist.

After scrolling through just a few pages, her leader proactively contacted her.

Ye Yan: Mi, are you resting?

Zhou Mi’s eyes brightened, and she quickly typed: No.

Ye Yan said: How’s your health? When are you coming back to the company?

Zhou Mi replied: Better, completely better, tentatively next Monday.

Ye Yan praised: I saw your email, very good.

Zhou Mi’s ears heated up: I feel it’s not professional at all. I’m sorry for resting for so long. If I can be of help, that would be best.

Ye Yan was generous with her praise: It’s quite good. I haven’t seen such a diligent and proactive youngster in a long time. Can I add you to a group?

Zhou Mi was surprised: What group?

Ye Yan replied: The Enmei Milk group. Aren’t you interested in this project?

Overwhelming joy made Zhou Mi’s expression direct and stiff: Really? I’m so happy.

Ye Yan splashed cold water on her with the tone of someone who’s been there: Let’s see if you can still say that half a year later.

Zhou Mi: …

Zhou Mi: I’ll try my best.

Ye Yan laughed: Alright, I’ll add you then.

Zhou Mi couldn’t ask for more: Okay.

A few seconds later, Zhou Mi was invited into a ten-person group called “AMBY Organic Milk-Aoxing.”

As if stepping into the clouds, Zhou Mi almost dazedly watched her ID join the group, until Ye Yan @-ed her and asked her to change her name, which finally gave her a sense of reality, as if being woken up.

She quickly checked the member list and, mimicking them, changed her group name to “Aoxing-minnie.”

The new designation was like a calling card, making her rapidly level up, giving her a sense of participation in the “Mount Hua Sword Conference,” even if she was still just a nameless nobody applauding at the edge of the arena.

Zhou Mi was too excited to speak. She looked up at the ceiling for a moment to regulate her heart rate before carefully reading the group chat content.

Her lunch friend, Tao Ziyi, was also in the group. Upon discovering Zhou Mi’s entrance, she welcomed her warmly.

Aoxing-Zoe: Hi, Mimi.

Zhou Mi returned an identical greeting.

Ye Yan introduced her to everyone: My intern.

Someone named Gin, a creative team leader, replied: The good-looking one, right?

Ye Yan replied: That’s her.

Zhou Mi’s cheeks grew warm as she silently accepted the compliment.

The creative team leader said again: I’ve noticed her several times.

Ye Yan said: She’s also your fellow alumnus.

Gin said: Is that so?

Ye Yan: Yes, your F University is full of talented people and beautiful women.

Gin asked: Which major are you in?

Zhou Mi quickly replied: Chinese Language and Literature.

Gin: I’m in New Media Communications.

Mild social anxiety resurged, causing Zhou Mi’s palms to sweat slightly as she nervously typed: That’s a great major.

Ye Yan was amused by her awkwardly sincere reply: Haha, Jin Jin is indeed very professional.

“…” Zhou Mi covered her face with one hand at her desk.

Gin posted a smiling cat face emoji and stopped talking.

Zhou Mi rubbed her bangs a few times. She seemed to have messed up again.

An absolute conversation killer, at the bottom of the communication chain, a topic terminator—if she were a straight man, she’d probably have been repeatedly given the cold shoulder in the blind dating market.

Fortunately, Ye Yan turned to private chat with her, assigning some new tasks related to Enmei Milk in advance, telling her she could work on them at home if she had nothing to do, and to feel free to ask if she didn’t understand anything.

Zhou Mi thanked her repeatedly.

Ye Yan teased: You’re too good. Someone might think I’m giving out rewards.

Zhou Mi somewhat shyly scratched her forehead: Not at all, I’ve rested enough and want to get back to work.

Ye Yan said: See you Monday.

Zhou Mi: Mm! See you Monday.

—

The entire afternoon, Zhou Mi didn’t rest. She sat at her desk working continuously. Since Enmei Milk was primarily focused on social media, most of her tasks involved organizing Weibo and WeChat data.

It wasn’t difficult, just relatively tedious and complex, requiring patience and concentration.

When she had almost completed it, Zhou Mi rubbed her eyes and only then thought to check the time—it was already past five o’clock.

She opened WeChat, first noticing the English name she had placed at the top.

Zhou Mi stared at it for a moment, then clicked on it and sent a message: Thank you.

The other side must have been checking WeChat, because the reply came almost instantly:?

Zhou Mi’s lips unconsciously curved up, and she proudly shared the good news: Yan added me to the Enmei FMCG group.

Zhang Lian’s reaction was lukewarm: Oh.

Zhou Mi’s smile didn’t fade because of this: So thank you.

Zhang Lian asked: Just saying thank you?

Zhou Mi’s chin retracted vigilantly: What else do you want?

Zhang Lian: I mean you.

Zhang Lian: Didn’t you learn anything?

Zhou Mi replied with a small ear emoji, indicating she was listening attentively.

Zhang Lian: Opportunities are for which kind of people?

Zhou Mi guessed: Those who are prepared?

Zhang Lian: No, those who know how to seize every chance.

Zhou Mi: I’ve learned my lesson. May I take this opportunity to ask you about something else?

Zhang Lian: Would you not ask if I said no?

Zhou Mi: I really wouldn’t ask then. I’m very considerate and won’t force others.

Zhang Lian: Good, I don’t have time to answer.

Zhou Mi: [Smile] Sorry to bother you, bye-bye.

What a heartless person, Zhou Mi exhaled softly, closing the chat box. The next second, her phone beside the keyboard buzzed.

Seeing the caller’s name, Zhou Mi’s gaze bounced away as if scalded, and her head inexplicably warmed up a bit. She flexed her fingers a few times, deliberately letting them ring a few more seconds before bringing them to her ear.

“Hello,” she greeted, not knowing if she was giving herself or him a way out: “Do you dislike typing?”

The other side answered quite seriously: “Yes, text cannot accurately express emotions and can easily cause misunderstandings.”

Zhou Mi asked: “So you always call when talking to clients?”

“Mostly, yes.”

“Wow, you’re amazing. I can’t even manage basic text communication,” beyond admiration, Zhou Mi felt a bit downcast. She lowered her head, tracing the acorn patch on her jeans with her finger: “Today, after joining the group, a creative sister was chatting with me, and I didn’t know how to reply appropriately. My whole body was tense, you know? I was so afraid of saying something wrong and leaving a bad impression.”

Zhang Lian’s answer was dismissive yet brutally honest: “I suggest you switch to copywriting. It aligns with your major and would save you a lot of trouble.”

Zhou Mi refused: “…I don’t want to.”

“Then take it slow,” Zhang Lian asked: “Are you in a hurry to usurp the throne?”

Zhou Mi raised her voice: “Who’s in a hurry to usurp the throne?”

“Then why do you look like you can’t wait to become a senior client director tomorrow?”

“…” Zhou Mi let out a slow sigh, squeezing out those anxieties bit by bit: “Alright, I understand.”

Unlike in the morning, Zhang Lian didn’t hang up quickly. Instead, he asked: “Can we discuss something personal now? Is it convenient?”

Zhou Mi looked around: “Yes, I’m alone in my room right now.”

Zhang Lian said, “Measure your ring finger’s circumference for me.”

Zhou Mi’s mind froze: “What?”

He stated calmly, “Sun Fengzhi called me this afternoon. She’s already asked me to pick out a diamond ring for you. It seems our situation is almost certainly sealed.”

Zhou Mi immediately straightened her back: “No way.”

“Do you have any preferred brands?” The man’s tone was casual, as if asking what takeout she wanted to order.

“Wait a minute!” Zhou Mi nearly shouted, then slowly calmed down: “It’s just a trial marriage. Do we need to buy a diamond ring?”

“This is one of the gestures of sincerity she promised your mother. She wants me to prepare everything before Sunday.”

Zhou Mi was stunned for a moment: “That’s too much. Even if you buy it, I won’t wear it.”

“I know,” Zhang Lian’s voice now carried more command: “Just measure it for me. I need to deliver on my commitment.”

Zhou Mi scratched the back of her head: “Isn’t this forcing people? Material form of emotional kidnapping?”

Zhang Lian ignored her protest and proposed Plan B: “Or you can come out with me tomorrow to choose one.”

Zhou Mi was almost rebellious, extremely resistant: “I won’t go.”

“I know you don’t want to go, so are you going to measure it yourself, or should I come to your house to pick you up?” His voice became level, as if stripped of all emotion, giving her a single-choice question that allowed no objection.

Zhou Mi reluctantly compromised: “Fine, I’ll measure it.”

“Send it to me today, as soon as possible.”

Estimating he was about to end the call, Zhou Mi took a breath and called out to him: “Why don’t I just admit to my parents that we’re only friends with benefits? Death is death. Is it really good to let things reach this irreversible state?”

Zhang Lian replied: “Go ahead, tell them now.”

Zhou Mi imagined the consequences and became fearful again, her mouth drooping as she spoke softly: “I still don’t dare…”

Zhang Lian fell silent.

The silence at her ear was like facing a windless winter night.

Zhou Mi sensed his restrained anger, so she also remained quiet, hardly daring to breathe heavily.

“Zhou Mi, this isn’t the first time you’ve done this, coming up with a new idea every day,” Zhang Lian spoke again, his voice approaching an extremely cold calmness: “From the moment this happened until now, it’s been me accommodating you.”

But Zhou Mi’s emotions burned like magma, and she retorted defiantly: “But have you lost anything?”

Zhang Lian countered: “Do you think I haven’t suffered any loss?”

The veins below her neck involuntarily tightened: “Is your loss very serious? More serious than mine?”

He replied without hesitation: “Very serious.”

“So you mean I’ve harmed you,” Zhou Mi’s front teeth bit her lower lip until it turned pale, and it took her a while to continue: “You’ve never really felt that you’ve wronged me from the bottom of your heart. Instead, you consider yourself a victim, don’t you?”

Zhang Lian didn’t answer, maintaining complete silence.

“Fine, I promise you,” Zhou Mi’s words were cold and hard as she jumped off the chair. “Wait, I’ll go find a measuring tape now.”

She rummaged through her bedroom, deliberately making drawers and cabinet doors slam loudly, and defiantly made extravagant demands: “I want a diamond ring worth at least six figures. Will you buy it?”

After two seconds of silence from the other end of the phone, he let out an indecipherable laugh: “On Sunday, I will personally put it on your finger.”

—

As soon as those words were spoken, Zhou Mi unhesitatingly ended the call.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling window, tall buildings stood erect. The night was like ground ink, spreading across the yellowish paper-colored sky.

Zhang Lian placed his phone back on his desk and leaned there, waiting for a while. Not long after, the screen lit up.

Zhou Mi had efficiently provided her ring size, but only the data, without additional words.

Zhang Lian glanced at the numbers, his brow slightly furrowing, before opening his left hand to judge from memory.

After a moment, he asked with a sense of absurdity: Are you planning to wear this ring on your wrist?

This line of text seemed to drop into a dry well, creating no ripples.

He curled his lips and sent another message: “Next time you want to cause trouble, please provide a more reasonable measurement; otherwise, the sales clerk will think I’m marrying a little pig.” Then he got up and left the office directly.