Shang Zhitao truly experienced the intensity of business trips at an advertising company. She had previously thought business trips were leisurely and comfortable, but the reality was non-stop work.
After that morning tea ended, endless work began. The group split into four teams, and because she lacked experience, she was assigned to be Luan Nian’s assistant, while Lu Mi was sent to the venue.
Shang Zhitao couldn’t hold grudges; the morning’s unpleasantness quickly vanished like smoke. But she didn’t know if Luan Nian held grudges. As colleagues gradually left, only she and Luan Nian remained sitting there.
Shang Zhitao felt slightly uncomfortable, but she couldn’t pinpoint why. She always felt uncomfortable around Luan Nian. Deep down, she feared that Luan Nian would find an excuse to scold her again, as if she were an underachieving student.
“Come sit over here.” Luan Nian pointed his chin toward the spot beside him, directing Shang Zhitao to move. Shang Zhitao obeyed, sitting next to him, and noticed his extremely pleasant scent—a fragrance she couldn’t quite identify, unlike common perfumes. At this moment, he appeared less severe, his entire demeanor somewhat more peaceful.
Luan Nian pushed his computer slightly toward Shang Zhitao and showed her the schedule his secretary had just sent him: “Today we’ll meet three clients. The first client has already reached the execution stage, and one part is the main visual and overall copy for the venue that Lu Mi is overseeing. The second client has already accepted our bid, but the creative portion needs minor adjustments. The third client is for a dinner; sales has been following up for a long time, and we’re entering the in-depth needs exploration phase. Because they’re on our VIP client whitelist, and the client’s representatives are of equal rank, I need to attend personally.”
Luan Nian paused, turning his head to ask Shang Zhitao: “Did you remember what I just said?”
Shang Zhitao nodded: “Yes, I did.”
“Your job is to take detailed meeting minutes for the first two clients and share them with me afterward; observe the clients’ reactions closely and tell me your thoughts after the meetings.”
“Understood.”
“Do you drink alcohol?” Luan Nian asked her.
“No, I don’t.”
Luan Nian gave her a meaningful glance, and Shang Zhitao understood its meaning: how dare you work in advertising if you don’t drink? Her straightforward gaze met his, her defiant expression also conveying a clear message to Luan Nian: what’s wrong with not drinking?
Shang Zhitao was quite amusing—sometimes submissive to the point of death, allowing anyone to push her around; other times suddenly bristling, appearing somewhat intimidating, if only slightly.
Despite her defiance, work still needed to be done. So she seriously asked Luan Nian: “Luke, Lu Mi mentioned before that the Creative Center has a specific template for meeting minutes. Could you send me a copy?” Lu Mi had never said such a thing, but Luan Nian was so meticulous that he surely had many requirements, and Shang Zhitao didn’t want to be severely criticized afterward.
Luan Nian casually found a copy of the minutes to show her—meeting minutes of less than 300 words. Shang Zhitao thought she had misread or that Luan Nian was teasing her, so she asked again: “Is this the meeting minutes?” It wasn’t even as long as the Marketing Department’s minutes.
“Yes. Did you see it? Write the key points, not filler.”
“I understand.”
Shang Zhitao realized she truly couldn’t get a read on Luan Nian. She thought he was someone with high work standards, yet their meeting minutes were so brief. If she thought his standards weren’t high, he was constantly offering suggestions.
“Any other questions about the work?” Luan Nian asked her.
“No more…”
“Let’s go then.”
Apart from work matters, Luan Nian didn’t say another word to Shang Zhitao, standing at the roadside with his handsome but stern face, trying to hail a taxi. Shang Zhitao pointed to a sun umbrella outside a nearby café: “You can wait there, I’ll get one.” She maintained the respectful attitude of a subordinate toward her boss.
Luan Nian glanced at her. He didn’t like Shang Zhitao acting this way; in fact, most subordinates acted like this, but he found it particularly unbearable from Shang Zhitao. He wanted to scold her, but ultimately held back.
What does it matter to me?
Let her hail the taxi if she wants.
Why do I keep wanting to scold this silly girl for no reason?
Luan Nian thought to himself, actually stepping aside to watch Shang Zhitao hail a taxi.
When getting into the car, Luan Nian opened the door, glanced at Shang Zhitao’s floral dress, and silently sat in the inner seat.
Shang Zhitao vaguely felt she was being looked after, yet also felt she wasn’t. She realized she wasn’t as afraid of Luan Nian as she had been the previous week. Luan Nian had a harsh tongue, but he was truly dedicated when working. He spoke little, but every sentence contained important information. You just needed to listen carefully, and he would teach what needed teaching and say what needed saying.
Seeing Luan Nian with clients was completely different from the petty interactions Shang Zhitao had experienced during her student days. She remembered how she and her fellow poor students would meet clients, so nervous they could barely function, not daring to negotiate terms, offering suggestions with extreme caution. The clients back then had manipulated them expertly, often sighing: “Ah, our budget is limited. If it doesn’t work out, we’ll have to ask other groups.”
“No need to ask around, we’re the best. We’re both cheap and good.”
And Luan Nian?
Luan Nian gave the impression that he didn’t care whether you were the client or not—just listen to him and everything would be fine, as if everything was under his control. Yet he maintained appropriate boundaries and wasn’t unpleasant to deal with.
He presented a creative idea and discussed it very seriously with the other party. If he encountered something he disagreed with, he would slow down, think very carefully, and then point out the problems with the client’s idea. Step by step. Calmly.
For instance, he would ask: “So who exactly is the target audience for this creative? Could we break down the creative elements?”
Or he would say: “Over the past three years, we’ve tried this communication method three times, and the results weren’t good.” Then he would open his computer and display the data from that time. It seemed like everything in his mind was categorized, ready for retrieval at any moment.
He would even smile at the female executive on the client side: “Lowering the price isn’t the best strategy.”
How gentle he could be. When he was gentle, he presented an entirely different image, making people feel as if they were bathed in the spring breeze.
Luan Nian was always unpredictable. Shang Zhitao had expected him to be arrogant and domineering, but he wasn’t. He truly was a strange person.
After meeting with the first client, the client escorted them to the ground floor until they left.
Shang Zhitao felt she had learned textbook-level meeting techniques—no, textbooks never covered these things. Looking at Luan Nian again, her eyes betrayed undisguised admiration. She glanced once, then again, which Luan Nian caught, but she didn’t feel embarrassed. She finally spoke her mind openly: “You were amazing. That meeting was brilliant.”
“Was flattery a required course at your university?” Luan Nian asked her.
Neither compliments nor criticism were acceptable—he was just that difficult to get along with.
Although Luan Nian had snapped at her, Shang Zhitao was used to it by now and didn’t take his bait, continuing to speak her mind: “I learned a lot from you today.”
“What did you learn?”
Shang Zhitao thought for a moment: “I learned to use gender advantages—smiling at female clients.” After saying this, she smiled mischievously, radiating a bright cheerfulness that brought her whole person to life.
Luan Nian stared at her steadily. This recruit had been standing before him with reddened eyes, stomping her foot in the morning, and by afternoon, she dared to joke with him—how bold her heart had become. He glanced at her, then turned and walked into a convenience store by the road, bought two bottles of water chestnut drink, and tossed one to Shang Zhitao, who hurriedly caught it: “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Luan Nian drank, his peripheral vision sweeping over Shang Zhitao. Her face was slightly reddened from the sun—an utterly ordinary girl, yet when she tilted her neck slightly to drink, there was something subtly sensual about her. A clean, pure sensuality. His heart suddenly felt a gentle scratch.
Very light.