After that visit following the college entrance exams, Lin Qing had made quite a name for herself in the Lu household — for all the wrong reasons.

She had kept her head down the entire time, making eye contact with no one.

When it was time to leave, she refused every gesture of kindness from Lu Zhou’s family.

She didn’t take the red envelopes from his parents.

She didn’t take the clothes his aunt had bought for her.

She didn’t take the iPhone 7 his uncle pressed on her.

From start to finish, the only thing Lin Qing could hold on to was the bag of medicine in her hands.

Over the four years that followed, Lu Zhou persistently asked Lin Qing what had been wrong that day.

Lin Qing always found a way to sidestep the topic.

In this world, it isn’t only wealth and poverty that create a gap between people.

There is a gap of richness and poverty in love as well.

How could Lin Qing — who had grown up in utter emotional poverty — possibly feel worthy of Lu Zhou, who had been raised in warmth and love so full it nearly spilled over?

She would rather have outsiders say she was “punching above her station” with Zeng Rui — because in that case, she at least had her youth and her emotional value to offer in exchange.

Facing Lu Zhou, she had nothing at all. What did she have to trade?

“Hey! Enough of that! We still need to eat lunch, don’t we?”

Her mother’s voice came from the living room.

Lin Qing closed her laptop and stepped out.

“I say a few things to you and you lock yourself in there.” Her mother bustled about putting together a simple lunch and said, “A whole morning gone! I don’t even know what you were doing cooped up in there. Such a temper.”

“Mum, I wasn’t pouting.” Lin Qing explained. “I was in there doing calculations.”

“Calculations? What kind of calculations?”

“Our company — President Liang — wants to get into livestream e-commerce. I need to help her work out the net revenue from the current distributors and the supply chain cost losses, and then calculate the current influencer GMV from online promotions…” Lin Qing said, then waved her chopsticks dismissively. “Forget it. You wouldn’t understand any of it. Let’s just eat!”

Her mother genuinely couldn’t follow a word of it and chewed on her chopsticks. “I thought you applied as an assistant? How did it end up being an accounting job again! At this rate, you might as well go be a proper accountant — accountants make decent money.”

“Mum, you don’t understand, so stop asking! Let’s just eat.” Lin Qing ate with a head full of worries.

After a morning of financial modelling and manual calculations, no matter how she ran the numbers, if President Liang launched a livestream channel, it would carve directly into the distributors’ profits.

Cutting off someone’s livelihood is like murdering their parents.

If the distributor problem wasn’t resolved, the fallout would be far more serious than any controversy over a spokesperson.

From the moment Lin Qing took this job, she had been worrying on her boss’s behalf.

“That female boss of yours — is she easy to get along with?”

Her mother made casual conversation over the meal.

“Pretty good. I quite like her.”

After a few days of working together, Lin Qing didn’t know Liang Meng especially well yet, but from what she had observed in small moments, Liang Meng didn’t seem like the unhinged “terror of a boss” that outside rumours painted her to be.

“That said, a lot of people at the company call her ‘the madwoman’ behind her back.” Lin Qing colourfully relayed the staff’s verdict on Liang Meng to her mother. “I haven’t seen her ‘go off’ myself yet — maybe I just haven’t been there long enough.”

“Is that right.” Her mother considered this, then shook her chopsticks in warning. “Rumours shouldn’t be taken as gospel, but they don’t arise from nothing either. You’d better be careful. They say even heroes don’t weep — only when their heart is broken. Going berserk is the same: you just haven’t crossed your boss’s tripwire yet.”

“That I’m actually curious to witness.” Lin Qing said, being cheeky.

Her mother rapped her knuckles. “You’re earning that big salary — as they say, serving an emperor is like living with a tiger. And you’re serving a female boss at that!”

“What’s wrong with a female boss?” Lin Qing laughed. “I’m a woman too! Will you look down on me when I’m a boss someday, Mum?”

“Now listen.” Seeing Lin Qing take it all so lightly, her mother immediately launched into a lesson.

Her daughter was still young, after all. She hadn’t been through enough of the world yet.

“I’m not looking down on female bosses. Society these days has long since moved past that — it’s been ‘women hold up half the sky’ since our time!” her mother said earnestly. “And I’m not even talking about now — back in our day, women were every bit as capable. Female bosses have their advantages: meticulous, strong empathy, and they won’t sexually harass you in the workplace. But —”

“But what?”

“But female bosses are emotionally rich, which makes them prone to emotional responses. And you know you both have those certain days each month…your boss is the same.”

Her mother gave Lin Qing a knowing wink.

“Alright, alright!” Lin Qing scoffed. “So by your logic, the ideal boss would be someone like you, Mum. A woman. Post-menopausal.”

“You wretched child—!”

Her mother hadn’t even finished raising her chopsticks when Lin Qing’s phone rang.

“Lin Qing, something’s wrong, you need to get back here fast! President Liang, President Liang she’s — she’s gone off!!”

That last part was clearly said behind a cupped hand.

“I’m on approved leave today.”

Lin Qing wasn’t alarmed. She had put in a proper leave request.

“Never mind the leave! You’re President Liang’s assistant — she’s in this state right now, you need to get to the office!”

Before Lin Qing could say another word, the other person hung up.

“What happened?” her mother asked, concerned.

Lin Qing pressed her middle finger to her brow and held up the phone with a resigned look. “Speak of the devil. The boss has gone off. Don’t know what caused it yet.”

“Then go, quickly!” her mother urged on her behalf.

“Go where.” Lin Qing tossed her phone aside. “I’m on leave today. Leave is leave. I’m burning a day of annual leave here — why would I rush back to clock in for them?”

“But you’re her assistant, aren’t you?”

“I’m her assistant, and I’m on leave!”

“Oh, you stubborn girl. You’re not even doing anything this afternoon.”

Lin Qing held her ground.

Refusing to let the workplace bully you, starting with yourself.

It wasn’t until Liang Meng herself called in a furious, frantic voice — “Lin Qing, where on earth have you been?! Get here. NOW!!” — that Lin Qing had no choice but to throw on her coat, grab her bag, and head to the office.

To be absolutely clear — she wasn’t going because she was cowed by her boss’s authority.

She was going because she could hear Liang Meng’s voice had broken over the phone, and something felt seriously wrong. She was going because she was worried about her.

So yes. It doesn’t pay to be too kind-hearted.

When Lin Qing arrived at the office, she found Liang Meng like an enraged lioness — chest thrust out, wielding a golf club.

Her face was flushed, her teeth were clenched, her chest rose and fell as though she’d just sprinted eight hundred meters.

It was very clear she had already taken that golf club on a comprehensive tour of the office desk and every corner of the room.

The “Grand Tidying Master” — Liang Meng.

Now Lin Qing finally understood why colleagues called her “the madwoman” behind her back.

The scale of this scene was something you genuinely didn’t see every day.

Even the legendary Cheon Song-yi from the Korean drama couldn’t outdo this.

“What happened here.”

Lin Qing squeezed in among the colleagues jammed in the doorway and whispered.

“No idea! Might be those days of the month.” The colleague was equally baffled.

Those days really did carry the blame for everything under the sun.

Lin Qing steeled herself and pushed inside.

Liang Meng turned and immediately fixed her with a withering stare. “Lin Qing! Why are you only getting here now?! Close the door!”

Lin Qing quickly obeyed, shooing away the onlookers and shutting the door, switching the glass panel to frosted.

Fine, fine. Coming in today, it seemed the job was to serve as a punching bag.

Maybe this was the real Liang Meng.

Surveying the wreckage around her, Lin Qing gave herself a moment of internal preparation.

Spotting a shard of Wedgwood on the floor, Lin Qing couldn’t help but think: it’s good to be rich. No need to feel a thing about smashing that.

When Lin Qing herself was in a bad mood, she’d find the most worthless stuffed toy she owned and pound it in the bathroom.

“Do you know how to drive?”

“Pardon?”

Liang Meng emerged from the rubble, turned her head, and asked her with cold detachment.

“I have a license.”

Lin Qing said so.

What she didn’t say was that she had gotten the license and never once taken a car onto an actual road.

Liang Meng, in her seven-centimetre heeled boots, reached out and tossed a set of Ferrari keys. “Drive me somewhere!”

Lin Qing caught the keys and gripped them tightly.

Out of concern for her boss’s safety, she felt obliged to mention: “Boss, I’ve never driven on real roads before.”

What Lin Qing meant was: I can drive if you want me to — but do you dare get in?

Liang Meng was entirely unbothered. “There’s a first time for everything.”

And with that, she picked up her Hermès bag and walked out of the office.

Outside the executive suite, some colleagues were sneaking glances hoping for a show.

Liang Meng tossed her hair and instantly resumed her usual imperious composure: “What are you all looking at?! Get back to work!”

Lin Qing followed behind her, and as she passed her colleagues’ desks, several of them made dramatic throat-slashing gestures at her.

Everyone was holding their breath for Lin Qing, because this was the first time since she joined that she was about to encounter the true, unfiltered “madwoman President Liang.”

“Press this!”

The moment they were seated in the car, Liang Meng came face to face with a driving novice and immediately transformed into an impatient driving instructor.

“President Liang, where do you put it in gear?”

Lin Qing trembled as she touched the Ferrari’s steering wheel and asked the passenger in the seat beside her, terrified.

“This is an automatic! There — that’s all you need!”

Liang Meng looked at her with contempt and quickly ran her through the controls in three brusque moves.

Lin Qing could never have dreamed that the first car she would drive on a real road would be a Ferrari.

Fate truly is a remarkable thing.

“Turn it! TURN IT! TURN IT!”

Within moments, under Lin Qing’s cautious, tortoise-paced driving, Liang Meng’s short fuse was completely exposed.

“When I tell you to turn left, you CRANK the wheel!! Why are you staring at me?! Are you trying to run me into the curb?!”

“Green light — GO! Why are you pressing the brake?! Are you celebrating?!”

“Are you drag-racing an electric bicycle?! You’re going twenty kilometers an hour! Can’t you GO FASTER?!”

Lin Qing was already nervous, and under the relentless barrage of Liang Meng’s demands, she stuck firmly to her principle of safety first — and went slower and slower.

Eventually, even the volatile and wound-up Liang Meng couldn’t be bothered to yell anymore and gradually went quiet.

“President Liang, am I drifting out of my lane?” Lin Qing asked, clinging to the wheel with white knuckles.

Liang Meng: “No. The road was built crooked.”

“President Liang, am I going too slowly?”

“Not slow at all. Compared to a shared bicycle, you’re practically speeding. Put your foot down.”

“President Liang, I’ll put my foot down.”

“Lin Qing, are you stupid? When I say ‘put your foot down,’ I mean press the accelerator!”

“Oh oh oh, right, I’ll press it.”

“See that person up ahead?”

“Run them over.”

“President Liang, that’s not really appropriate, is it?”

“Then hit the brakes!! You don’t know how to do that either?!”

“Oh oh oh oh!”

After that thoroughly chaotic ordeal, Lin Qing somehow managed to maneuver the Ferrari, heart in her throat the entire time, into a parking space at the shopping mall.

“President Liang, why are we at the mall?”

“To do square dancing.”

Liang Meng shot her assistant a withering look. If you come to a mall, what else would you do but shop?

Always asking useless questions that go nowhere!

“Oh oh oh!”

Lin Qing hurriedly trotted forward, took the large elephant-grey Birkin from Liang Meng’s hand, and fell into step behind her as her dutiful little shadow.

She still had no idea what had set Liang Meng off, but Lin Qing refused to believe that anyone went berserk without a reason.

It wasn’t as though her boss had ever had a formal assessment done at the psychiatric ward at Wanping South Road.

There had to be a reason.

“This one! This one! And this one!”

Liang Meng walked into a brand she knew well and began selecting items with deliberate intent.

She didn’t try a single thing on — just told the sales staff to wrap it all up.

And she was specifically picking the feathered, sequined, neon-coloured pieces that no one else would touch — the clearance dregs.

To put it plainly: every piece that other customers refused to configure even as a bundle purchase, she swept up as a complete set for herself alone.

“President Liang, some of these designs are a little on the dramatic side — there won’t be many occasions to wear them.”

Lin Qing was only there to carry bags, but she still felt compelled to say something in her boss’s interest.

Let the boss go wild, by all means — but please don’t waste the money.

Liang Meng seemed not to have heard Lin Qing at all and picked up a piece in vivid red leopard print.

Eventually even the familiar sales associate couldn’t bear it and quietly suggested: “Miss Liang, would you like to look at some of our more popular styles? We just got in a cream-white VSLING — timeless and chic, the kind of piece that would complement your refined elegance beautifully. Can I bring it out for you?”

“No need!” Liang Meng shook her head from behind her sunglasses, and picked up a shocking pink feathered jacket. “Wrap this one up too!”

Lin Qing was completely at a loss for words. Just looking at that jacket on the mannequin, it already resembled a Barbie ostrich.

Did Liang Meng think she was a peacock or something?

“Lin Qing, come with me to the Versace across the way after this.”

Lin Qing lugged the growing mountain of bags, biting back what she wanted to say and nodding on the surface — while her inner monologue ran: Boss, are you trying to open a zoo?

On the way back, the entire car cabin was stuffed full.

Lin Qing was more exhausted than if she’d just finished a full forty-kilometer marathon.

Liang Meng sat behind her sunglasses, her face relaxed and loose, visibly calmer.

Her state was noticeably better than when she had been “going off” in the office.

It was only then that Lin Qing dared to venture a comment.

She borrowed, fresh off the lesson, the “sarcasm technique” Liang Meng had used when teaching her to drive.

“Boss, with all this shopping — are you preparing for a Halloween event?”

“A blind date.”

Liang Meng was worn out. She reclined against the back of the seat, her mass of chestnut curls framing a face hidden behind her sunglasses, looking exhausted.

A — a blind date?

Lin Qing’s brain cells seized up entirely.

A blind date. In these outfits. In that — that — that —

President Liang, are you going on a blind date with an ostrich?