It was past two in the afternoon when Zhou Mi was dropped off at her company building by Jijie.
She was surprised to discover that Jijie’s car was actually her dream car all along—an all-black Mercedes G-Wagon.
On the way, Zhou Mi had expressed her surprise, saying she felt he would be more suited to a more elegant coupe, something in white.
Jijie looked over with a smile: “How could I fit two dogs without a big car?”
Zhou Mi nodded in sudden realization: “Oh right, you’ve thought it through so well.”
Arriving at the company, Zhou Mi stopped at the entrance for a moment and messaged Zhang Lian: Are you at the company?
The man didn’t reply.
Zhou Mi pursed her lips, tucked her phone back into her bag, and walked past Zhang Lian’s office, finding the door open. She casually moved a couple of steps closer and saw him sitting behind his computer, his expressionless, handsome face illuminated by the monitor’s light like a stark snowy landscape.
Zhou Mi didn’t dare look longer and quickly returned to her workstation.
After downloading the content from her voice recorder, she took out her phone to check WeChat.
Zhang Lian still hadn’t replied.
Is he that busy?
Zhou Mi blinked at the screen for a while, then typed: When did you get back to the office?
This time Zhang Lian finally responded: Half an hour ago.
Zhou Mi said: I just passed by your office.
Zhang Lian didn’t acknowledge this comment, only asking: Just got back to the office?
Zhou Mi: Mm-hmm.
He asked again: Where did you have lunch?
Zhou Mi figured he probably knew something already and didn’t want to hide anything: Near the Hundred Yuan Building.
Zhang Lian asked: With colleagues?
Zhou Mi said: No, with that media director from K Records who will be grading our pitch.
Zhang Lian asked: The one with dogs?
Zhou Mi: Yes.
Zhang Lian didn’t say anything more.
After organizing meeting minutes for half an hour, Zhang Lian still hadn’t replied to her WeChat. Zhou Mi became restless and sent another message: Are you upset?
Zhang Lian said: Busy now, talk after work.
Zhou Mi’s eyes swelled slightly: I don’t know how to focus on work like this.
Zhang Lian asked: What’s wrong?
Zhou Mi grabbed a tissue and dabbed at her tingling nose, not daring to cry at the office: I feel like you’re angry about this.
Zhang Lian replied quickly: A little bit.
This response was like a windshield wiper clearing away fog—the communication in their chat instantly changed from hazy to completely transparent and bright.
Zhou Mi hadn’t expected him to be so frank so quickly. Like sunshine after rain, she pressed further: Why?
Zhang Lian: You don’t know why I’m upset, but you’re asking if I’m upset?
Zhou Mi bit her lip: But you meet clients and have meals with them too, right?
Zhang Lian said: That’s why it’s just a little. Is our company’s proposal so poor that you, a young girl, need to dine alone with the client?
Zhou Mi typed with a lighter rhythm: I’m not a little girl, okay?
Zhang Lian: You’re a little troublemaker.
Zhou Mi quickly covered the lower half of her face, which was scrunched up with laughter, and took the opportunity. Can this little troublemaker focus on working wholeheartedly for Aoxing with peace of mind?
Zhang Lian: Go ahead and get busy.
—
That evening at home, Zhou Mi stuck to Zhang Lian’s side like glue at all times. When he went to wash his hands, she spread her palms out for him to squeeze soap into them; when he ate fruit, she opened her mouth “Ah—” for him to feed her a piece; when he went to his study to handle emails, she pulled up a chair beside him and rested her chin in her hands to admire his strong profile; when he was on the phone, she tilted her body to press against the back of his phone to eavesdrop.
Finally, Zhang Lian couldn’t stand it anymore. He put down the phone and pulled her onto his lap, face down. Through his black dress pants, Zhou Mi felt compressed in her chest. Just as she was about to escape, her bottom was smacked hard.
He didn’t hold back his strength at all.
If she hadn’t quickly covered her mouth, Zhou Mi might have cried out loud enough to startle the entire house.
The area touched by his palm began to sting fiercely.
“That hurts so much…” Her face turned red like a big tomato as she muttered in a muffled voice: “Why did you hit me?”
“You should be grateful you’re wearing a pencil skirt today,” Zhang Lian said flatly as he released her.
Zhou Mi got up unhappily, frowning and rubbing the painful spot like she’d just received an injection. Just as she was about to sit properly in her chair, she was pulled back by the man.
She heard his breathing become a little heavier.
The study door was completely closed behind her.
As she bit her lip hard, swaying and supporting herself on the edge of the desk, Zhou Mi realized through an intense emotion that nearly brought her to tears and kept building that a pencil skirt actually offered no protection at all.
After returning to the bedroom and showering together, Zhou Mi nestled into Zhang Lian’s arms as usual.
She loved his various embraces, as if she were one of his ribs, only truly completing each other when firmly embedded in the depths of his arms.
Zhang Lian casually ran his fingers through the hair at her temple: “Why are you so clingy tonight?”
Zhou Mi poked the spot over his heart, murmuring like pulled sugar: “Ap-peas-ing—you—”
Zhang Lian’s lips twitched, but he said nothing.
Zhou Mi continued the same motion: “So have you been appeased?”
Zhang Lian said, “I’m fine.”
Zhou Mi rolled over to lie on his chest: “Really fine?”
Zhang Lian: “Mm.”
Zhou Mi gritted her teeth: “I’m not fine. My bottom still hurts. Even my parents never spanked me like that.”
Zhang Lian pulled her entirely onto him, sliding his hand under the thin blanket: “Which side?”
“Both sides…” She suddenly tensed her body like a balance board with an “Ah”: “Can you not touch irrelevant areas?”
Zhang Lian pinned her armpit and pulled her up to a convenient height, then focused on gently massaging her.
Zhou Mi rested her face against his neck, her lips curling up several times before she raised her head to kiss his perfectly chiseled jawline, involuntarily saying: “I want to stay pressed against you like this forever.”
Zhang Lian’s relaxed expression froze for a moment, like a candle flame briefly flickering in the wind, but not extinguishing completely before reigniting. He curled his lips, tilted his head down, and kissed her forehead.
—
News that their proposal had been selected soon came from the client. Aoxing had won first place, becoming K Records’ agency for this year’s Dragon Boat Festival project.
Since the client was a major restaurant group with a notoriously difficult reputation in the industry, the company didn’t dare take it lightly. The formal team was reorganized with twelve people, work tasks were broken down as much as possible, and everyone worked overtime to quickly deliver the most satisfying online and offline marketing to the client through coordination.
Under Ye Yan’s guidance, Zhou Mi began learning how to write briefs and how to communicate client revision requests to the creative team.
Everyone knew about her good relationship with Jijie, and often copywriters or designers in the group chat would directly @ her to ask whether certain poster styles or slogans were what K Records wanted.
While flattered by the attention, Zhou Mi also felt enormous pressure.
She wasn’t the actual project contact person and was hesitant to bother Jijie casually, but with the tight timeline, direct inquiry was indeed the most effective and timely way to convey and receive feedback between both parties.
Her chat frequency with Jijie increased dramatically.
Apart from work-related matters, dogs and the game King of Glory remained their unchanging topics of connection.
Meeting a client as easy to work with as Jijie at the beginning of her career was her great fortune.
Through this training, Zhou Mi also gained the real sense that “I truly am an AE now.”
This month, her frequency of reading industry public accounts sharply decreased, partly because she was busy, and partly because it wasn’t necessary. When she first came to Aoxing, she had relied heavily on them, obsessively reading from start to finish every night and memorizing the jargon and key points to make herself appear more integrated and professional. But now that she was truly immersed in the work content, these things permeated her brain like automatically inputted characters. She gradually found a rhythm and occasionally had moments that, while not completely proficient, could be considered somewhat independent.
She guessed this must be what Zhang Lian called the “Aoxing atmosphere.”
She felt herself becoming more like an advertising person.
It must be said that Zhang Lian was a partner who fully respected her. He would clearly express his jealousy, but never restricted or interfered with her work mode because of it.
Zhou Mi once said to him, “If you’re uncomfortable, I can show you my WeChat chat history. There’s nothing flirtatious between Jijie and me.”
Zhang Lian directly refused and used a rare but serious descriptive term: “I find such behavior extremely disgusting.”
Disgusting.
Zhou Mi couldn’t help laughing: “Did your ex-girlfriend always check your chat history?”
Zhang Lian didn’t say a word.
Both work and relationship were progressing steadily in a strange calmness, which Zhou Mi hadn’t expected at all. The daytime frenzy and nighttime intimacy intertwined, making her almost forget that the floating three-month ship carrying her and Zhang Lian was about to reach port.
When she received her mother’s call, Zhou Mi suddenly realized that they had only three days left to report their final decision to both sets of parents.
The elders were counting the days in anticipation.
While they had forgotten to count the days themselves.
Building on their last visit home, Tang Peili’s voice sounded vigorous: “How’s it going, Mimi? How are things with Zhang Lian these days? Is the company keeping you busy? You haven’t come over to visit for a while.”
Zhou Mi didn’t know how to answer.
Because neither of them had expressed their stance.
An indiscernible emotional current flowed from her heart, then filled her entire chest cavity.
Zhou Mi forced a smile, sharing only good news: “Everything’s great. The company is busy, and I’ve started contacting clients myself recently. Impressive, right?”
Her mother praised her for a few sentences, but kept the focus on the young couple’s plans, laughing that she was already looking at auspicious dates for marriage registration with her father.
Zhou Mi held her lips taut for a moment: “You two can keep looking. I’ll ask Zhang Lian which day works when he gets back.”
After dealing with her mother, Zhou Mi’s mood sank to rock bottom, like a chiffon cake with a formula error from the start—no matter how long it tried to rise, it would deflate the moment it was taken out of the oven.
She worried anxiously for quite a while, then her mood returned to a flat, bewildered white line without any fluctuations.
Zhou Mi lay down on her side.
Zhang Lian had a business dinner that night and didn’t get home until almost twelve.
When she heard him opening the door, Zhou Mi was stilln’t asleep, but she quickly shut her eyes tightly and hid her head under the blanket.
Noting the sounds of the man washing up, her heart felt like it was being corroded by very low-concentration sulfuric acid, with waves of tightening pain.
Zhang Lian returned to bed, first turning off the light, then embracing her from behind as before, with their usual intimacy, his body carrying a slight smell of alcohol.
Zhou Mi desperately maintained her rigid body and emotions, not moving at all.
Zhang Lian seemed extremely tired, and the breath falling on the back of her ear quickly became the steady rhythm of deep sleep.
Zhou Mi began to silently shed tears, breathing very lightly.
She cried secretly like this for a long time, not knowing when she finally fell asleep.
—
After arriving at the company as usual the next day, Zhou Mi returned to being that always-energetic little AE, continuing her day’s work under her leader’s arrangement.
Near noon, the administration suddenly notified everyone in the main group chat that the boss would hold a general meeting at two in the afternoon.
The department immediately erupted in lamentations.
Ye Yan yawned at her seat while vigorously rubbing her head, then instructed Zhou Mi: “Go reschedule Room 2 that we booked for this afternoon to after 4 o’clock.”
Zhou Mi was curious: “It’s not that reflection meeting you mentioned last time, is it?”
Ye Yan smiled wryly: “What else could it be?”
Zhou Mi scratched the corner of her forehead: “Does our team need to present?”
Ye Yan was nearly in tears: “Yes, several teams do. Big sister will handle it, don’t worry.”
Zhou Mi nodded reassuringly and cheered her on: “Okay! You can do it!”
As two o’clock approached, people from the company who weren’t busy gathered in groups toward the pantry. Usually scattered sparsely with few people in sight, when clustered together like this, they formed quite a dense crowd.
Zhou Mi clutched her phone and sat at a table with familiar team members, her mind unsettled but full of curiosity as she watched them whispering to each other, organizing and summarizing project content and feedback that would be reported soon.
At exactly two o’clock, Zhang Lian arrived punctually.
He had business with a client in the morning, so Zhou Mi had taken the subway to work by herself.
She had thought he would attend such an all-staff meeting in a formal suit, but he still wore his daily outfit of a white shirt and black pants, without any ceremony.
Although it was a “reflection meeting,” the atmosphere was consistently not very formal, maintaining the company’s usual flexibility and casualness.
Zhang Lian just leaned against the edge of the bar counter, occasionally shifting to a more comfortable position, and the project team representatives didn’t need to stand when speaking.
Zhou Mi clenched her fists, silently pressing them against her cheeks, staring at him without blinking.
Everyone was looking at him, so she could also openly and unscrupulously stare at him.
Suddenly, Tao Ziyi beside her quietly called to everyone at the table: “Hey, hey.”
Ye Yan also lowered her voice: “What?”
Tao Ziyi said, “Fabian is wearing a ring today.”
Ye Yan’s eyes shone brightly as she went to check, and after getting a definite answer, she couldn’t help but gasp: “Wow, it’s true. First time I’ve seen it—”
Zhou Mi also widened her eyes in shock, tearing her startled gaze from Zhang Lian’s face and moving it to his folded arms.
Zhou Mi’s heart began to pound wildly. On the man’s casually placed left arm, at the sleeve fold, his slender hand indeed had a ring, with a faint silver light glinting. It seemed to be the one she had given him, the thirty-yuan one from Taobao.
Her colleagues continued to whisper.
“What brand is it?”
“It’s a bit far, can’t tell, but it should be expensive.”
“Is he getting married?”
“That’s too sudden.”
“Oh no, he has someone, my heart is completely broken.”
…
Zhou Mi couldn’t stop her face from flushing red hot like heated paint. She could only secretly lower her head in wild joy and embarrassment, hiding her gaze.
Help! Why didn’t she buy a better one back then?