In Zhou Mi’s understanding, “being pursued” was a more frightening and difficult interpersonal behavior to handle than work communication, even though she had encountered similar experiences numerous times from childhood to adulthood.
She believed herself to be somewhat psychologically abnormal. Having admirers should have been something worthy of vanity, pride, happiness, and confidence-boosting, but she rejected it completely, only wanting to escape as quickly as possible.
Before, in university, she had He Miaoyan and Lu Ming to fight off unwanted attention for her, but at Aoxing, she could only face it herself.
Jiang Shi’s words, which were almost like a “declaration” or “notification,” sounded like a binding spell to her. She nearly ran back to her workstation with her hands and feet moving in unison, starting her computer, opening Office, opening webpages, all in one go, hiding herself by immersing in work.
But she didn’t dare open WeChat.
However, the more you don’t want something, the more it comes to you. Half an hour later, Ye Yan arrived at the company, and her first words were: “Mi, at eleven o’clock, the Enmei group is having a brainstorming meeting for a new TVC. Go book a small meeting room, about seven people.”
“Oh, okay.” Zhou Mi quickly stood up.
Aoxing’s corporate culture was very interesting. Each meeting room had its characteristics. Some had electronic locks recessed into white walls, engraved with handprints—employees only needed to place their hands over them, and the glass sliding doors would open automatically.
Others used classic Star Wars phrases or Harry Potter spells, giving everyone a chuunibyou yet fun opening to each meeting.
On her way to the front desk to book a meeting room, Zhou Mi passed by Zhang Lian’s office.
The door was closed. It seemed that after separating at the subway entrance, he hadn’t come to the company.
During her internship at Aoxing, probably out of interest, Zhou Mi had roughly observed how often Zhang Lian stayed in the company. He was absent at least half the time. He wasn’t the kind of comfortable boss who just waved his hand and signed contracts, but rather the core and wellspring of the company. Only when he started moving could every part of Aoxing be properly placed, run smoothly, and produce endless inspiration and energy.
After successfully booking the meeting room, Zhou Mi checked the time. There were still forty minutes until eleven o’clock. She opened WeChat, planning to ask the team in the group chat whether they wanted milk tea or coffee.
Sure enough, there was a red dot notification at the bottom of her contacts list.
Without even clicking, she knew whose friend request it was. Zhou Mi faced a dilemma, but after thinking about it, she exited the app, pretending not to have seen it for now.
To avoid Jiang Shi, she didn’t post in the group chat but separately messaged Ye Yan to ask about beverage choices.
Ye Yan was as casual as ever: Whatever, it’s already good enough that they get to drink anything.
Zhou Mi smiled and decided to order coffee, which was less likely to go wrong than milk tea.
She pondered for a while about points and coupons, then placed her order most cost-effectively through the app.
At eleven o’clock, people gradually entered the meeting room, most carrying or tucking laptops under their arms.
Zhou Mi also brought the voice recorder she had bought recently. Today’s meeting minutes would primarily be her responsibility, and it would be convenient to send them out for everyone to review during the recap.
Everyone participating in the meeting would record some key points. When summarizing and organizing later, if there were any omissions, they could supplement each other.
The creative team was quite independent, with a generally laid-back style. They were the slowest to arrive, only becoming complete at eleven-ten.
Ye Yan criticized with a mix of sarcasm and humor: “Did you all collectively have constipation and get stuck in the toilet?”
An art director laughed and repeatedly apologized to Sister Yan.
Zhou Mi sat up straight, lowering her head to adjust the voice recorder.
A moment later, a dark shadow flashed beside her, and she heard a familiar male voice hovering above her head, speaking to Ye Yan: “Sister Yan, I forgot to wear my glasses today, and I’m afraid I can’t see the PPT. Can I sit here?”
It was Jiang Shi.
Zhou Mi’s eyes rolled around, trying her best to prevent herself from looking up to confirm.
Ye Yan, being very perceptive, exposed him without mercy: “Have you ever worn glasses since coming to the company?”
Jiang Shi said, “I didn’t wear my contacts today.”
“Little rascal,” Ye Yan chided with a smile and made room for him.
Jiang Shi sat down and turned his head to greet Zhou Mi: “Meeting again, Mimi-zi.”
He was calling her by her WeChat name, a very blatant reminder.
Zhou Mi quickly glanced at him, smiling without showing her teeth: “Yes, Jiang Shi.”
Jiang Shi opened his laptop: “Very busy today?”
Zhou Mi replied: “A little bit.”
Jiang Shi nodded understandingly.
Zhou Mi felt as if sitting on pins and needles, nervously crossing her hands and opening her computer.
The creative group leader, whose English name was Gin, projected the PPT onto the white wall and began to roughly describe their initial ideas: “For this TVC, we want to create a scene of an ordinary family dinner with about ten people. Some have fatty liver and can’t drink alcohol, some have ‘three highs’ and can’t drink soft drinks, some are losing weight and avoiding sugar. The table suddenly becomes very somber. Then someone has a brainwave and notices a gift to the side, which is our Enmei organic milk. Everyone has an ‘aha’ moment, passing it around. Some pour it into wine glasses—here we’ll give a close-up of the milk looking silky and rich—some drink directly from the original packaging. Finally, the whole table happily stands up for a toast, showing our product name and slogan.”
Ye Yan twirled her pen: “That’s interesting. But isn’t it a bit antagonistic? How will we get gigs for carbonated drinks and alcohol in the future?”
The female group leader said, “Not at all. Most people wouldn’t drink milk at a banquet, right? This video is mainly to showcase the selling points—health, high standards, convenience, suitable as a gift, and shareable by the whole family. The entire plot isn’t boring, it’s close to life, memorable, has style, doesn’t require high-end filming locations, and the budget is sufficient.”
She gave Jiang Shi a look, and the young man immediately stood up, replaced her laptop with his own for the projection, and showed everyone the newly completed video storyboard sketches and script.
His drawing skills were good; even with just a few strokes, his work had a dynamic feel that facilitated imagination.
Zhou Mi focused intently on watching and listening while touch-typing, entering details into the document.
Ye Yan pressed her lips and asked Jiang Shi to briefly repeat once, then nodded: “Actually… It’s not bad, but it feels like it’s missing something, not quite hitting the sweet spot.”
She suddenly looked at Zhou Mi, who appeared thoughtful with an expression so serious it was almost solemn: “Minnie, what do you think?”
Zhou Mi was stunned, her face slightly flushing: “You’re asking me?”
Everyone turned to look at her at once.
Ye Yan said, “Yes, do you have any suggestions?”
Zhou Mi became flustered, stammering: “I… is that appropriate…?”
Ye Yan smiled: “It’s a brainstorm, just say whatever ideas you have. Hiding them isn’t interesting. Aren’t you part of the shining stars of Aoxing?”
Zhou Mi’s cheeks turned bright red. She slowly moved her hands off the keyboard and asked softly: “Ideas about the video concept?”
The beautiful, creative group leader also smiled with curved eyes: “Yes, tell us.”
“Um,” Zhou Mi scratched her forehead, staring at the frozen image in the projection: “I was thinking about that key person who suggests drinking milk… have you decided who it will be?”
The creative group leader shook her head: “Not yet.”
Zhou Mi pursed her lips: “Then, could we use a child?”
The creative group leader paused, gesturing for her to continue.
Zhou Mi crossed her arms tightly, her back beginning to sweat: “Based on my limited life experience and data analysis, if it’s not a celebrity endorsement, the main target users for most pure milk are children, students, and teenagers.”
She took a deep breath, her chest feeling dull, her speech abnormally slow due to lack of confidence: “We could have a little kid bring over the milk gift box, full of energy, telling everyone, ‘Drink this! How come you all have this or that problem? My mom always buys this for me, one box every day. I think I’m super capable, even have more energy playing soccer—like that. I think it would be more humorous and also attract more parents to buy for their children.”
After she finished speaking, the meeting room fell completely silent.
Ye Yan clicked her pen, smiled, tilted her head, and looked around the table: “Isn’t that perfect?”
—
When Zhang Lian returned from outside, he happened to encounter the Enmei group dispersing, a scattered bunch of people walking out with laughter and conversation.
Zhou Mi was among them, with Ye Yan’s arm around her shoulder as they talked. Her head was slightly inclined, mouth curved in a smile, seemingly embarrassed.
Ye Yan spotted him first, waving and calling out enthusiastically: “Fabian~”
Zhang Lian nodded lightly.
Hearing Zhang Lian’s English name, Zhou Mi suddenly looked up, directly colliding with the man’s gaze falling from above.
They were very close.
She froze for a moment, unable to call out any greeting in time.
Zhang Lian’s eyes were clear, with deep meaning. His lips curved slightly for a fleeting moment as he brushed past her.
Their clothes barely grazed each other, an extremely brief contact.
That small patch of skin where they had touched under her sleeve suddenly felt so intensely present that Zhou Mi’s breathing and heartbeat became chaotic: Is this man a chameleon? He was cold as ice this morning, but now his eyes are full of affection…?
She silently quickened her pace, walking toward her workstation.
—
Back at his desk, Zhang Lian took out his phone to check WeChat and found the company’s large group chat particularly lively.
The creative department director, Teddy, was teasing in the chat, tagging Ye Yan: Jingjing just told me that the internal competition in the company is too intense now, with interns being so capable.
Aoxing-Gin: Yes, I now want to go to HR and apply to transfer @Mimi-zi School’s Out to our Creative team, to work with me.
Ye Yan replied: Sister, you’re poaching too blatantly. Our Mi’s brilliant insight today came mainly from algorithm thinking, which has nothing to do with your creative team.
They were all chattering away, while the person at the center of the storm remained silent.
Just as he was about to close the chat interface, Zhang Lian was suddenly cued, again by Ye Yan, who seemed intent on stirring up trouble: @Fabian, they’re stealing people, the creative team is stealing people, boss, come out and judge! Does our company still have law and order??
Zhou Mi finally surfaced, squeezing out an awkward yet polite: [Cute]
Zhang Lian curved his lips, not posting in the group, but clicked on her avatar instead to ask privately: What happened today?
After waiting for a while, the other side replied concisely: Some of my ideas were said in the brainstorming meeting, and they were adopted.
Zhang Lian teased: Pretty good, huh? They’re fighting over you now.
The girl sent a row of ellipses, like a small fish casually blowing bubbles.
Zhang Lian also replied with a punctuation mark:?
She seemed either too busy or unwilling to discuss details with him: I need to work on the meeting minutes now [Goodbye]
Zhang Lian stopped disturbing her work, switched back to the large group chat to review the conversation history. Soon, Zhou Mi’s online name flashed by. He scrolled to the bottom and found she had been mentioned again.
Aoxing-Augus: @Mimi-zi School’s Out, please accept my friend request.
A gray prompt immediately followed in the center of the screen:
“Aoxing-Augus” patted “Mimi-zi School’s Out” on the head and said: What a little cutie.
Zhou Mi’s head suddenly felt hot.
—This was the WeChat “pat” reminder she had recently set up privately to playfully annoy friends, but it unexpectedly appeared in the company’s large group chat, practically qualifying for immediate entry into the social death group.
Ye Yan exclaimed: Wow, what’s going on here?
Several female colleagues followed in gossip formation: Wow, what’s going on here?
Jiang Shi played dumb: What do you mean?
Ye Yan said: What, has your department changed strategies and started using the handsome man approach?
Jiang Shi replied: Personal behavior has nothing to do with the department.
Ye Yan: Ooh, young man, I’ll help you @Mimi-zi School’s Out.
Zhou Mi quickly informed the group: I added already, I was too busy this morning to notice promptly.
Jiang Shi said: Thank you.
The girl replied with a flower-offering emoji, with no further words.
Zhang Lian focused on his phone screen, where messages kept appearing, his eyes darkening a few degrees like the onset of night.
He exited the chat interface, then opened it again a moment later, found the client department director Yuan Zhen, and sent a “You there?”
Yuan Zhen replied: 1.
Zhang Lian: At the company?
Yuan Zhen said: Yes.
Zhang Lian said: Do you have Series B promotional materials?
Yuan Zhen replied: Yes, many.
Zhang Lian said: I’ll come get one.
Yuan Zhen: I’ll bring it to you.
Zhang Lian: No need, I’m going out anyway.
Zhang Lian went to get some water, took a sip, placed it back next to the monitor, left his office, and walked toward the client department area.
As it turned out, Zhou Mi’s workstation was empty, and there was no sign of her anywhere. She had most likely gone downstairs for lunch.
Passing by, Zhang Lian’s gaze suddenly paused. His eyebrows raised slightly as he inconspicuously scanned her desk, noticing her water cup, before walking away with casual steps.