Alex assigned the small project to Shang Zhitao. No one in the department wanted to take on such a small research project because it was difficult to achieve notable results. But Shang Zhitao was willing—regardless, it was her first time being a project manager.

She felt a little happy, yet also somewhat nervous. After receiving the initial project materials, she sat at her workstation without moving. The annual industry research was a mandatory project for the company, used to support different departments in developing advertising strategies for clients across various industries.

Though small, the project was extremely complex. It required departmental needs research, analysis of previous years’ input and output, selection of research companies, project milestones—everything had to be covered. She had followed Lu Mi through several projects and had read relevant books, but now she felt like someone who had done all the regular coursework and was finally facing the exam.

It was very late by the time Shang Zhitao finished reviewing all the materials. When she looked up, everyone around her had gone, with only Luan Nian’s office still lit. She thought for a moment, took out her phone, and typed: “I independently took on a project today.” Her finger hovered over the send button for a long time before she deleted it. She wasn’t sure if they were close enough to share daily matters—Luan Nian didn’t seem interested in other people’s lives. So she deleted it, but then wanted to tell him about this anyway. Though it was a small matter, it represented her progress.

“I independently took on a project today,” she sent to him.

Luan Nian glanced at his phone, then put it down without replying. Shang Zhitao kept checking her phone while packing her bag, but Luan Nian never responded. She sighed, shouldered her bag, and left the company.

She had good luck today, immediately catching a taxi after leaving. She plugged in her earphones to listen to music, but her eyes remained fixed on her phone. Only as she was about to enter her home did she see Luan Nian’s reply: “Do your best, keep going.” There couldn’t be a more formal tone than this.

“Thank you.”

Shang Zhitao’s project was giving her a headache. She got stuck at the very first step of the needs assessment, specifically with the creative center.

Kitty consistently failed to provide the scope of requirements from the creative center. Shang Zhitao had urged her twice, but she always said she was too busy and hadn’t done it yet. Shang Zhitao was a bit confused—this was a service project to support business, so why was Kitty being so uncooperative?

Lu Mi suggested that Shang Zhitao escalate the matter, letting the boss push the task down, but Shang Zhitao felt this wasn’t appropriate—it hadn’t reached the level requiring escalation. Kitty already disliked her, and if she escalated the matter, their relationship would become impossible.

Ultimately, Shang Zhitao was afraid of conflict. She pondered for a long time, not knowing how to handle it, and finally on Wednesday evening, she couldn’t help but message Luan Nian: “Luke, sorry to bother you. I’m independently managing a project but am stuck at the needs assessment step. I’d like to ask your advice on how to get everyone to cooperate with the project schedule?” She didn’t want to report anyone, just wanted to solve the problem properly.

This time Luan Nian replied quickly: “Hold a project communication meeting not targeting anyone specifically, have all parties report progress. Then send a mass email, identifying standard project executors for each party.”

After a while, he sent another message: “Don’t be afraid of conflict.”

When Shang Zhitao saw him tell her not to fear conflict, she felt Luan Nian had truly seen through her. Despite having never paid much attention to her, he knew what kind of person she was, what would make her hesitate and hold back.

“Okay, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. How are the preparations for the cheerleading squad for the basketball friendship match coming along?”

“We’ll practice on Thursday and Friday.”

“Good. Thanks for your hard work.” Luan Nian thought for a moment and added, “Being an independent project manager is a good thing, but the key to projects is managing people. Once you’ve managed the people, progress will follow.”

He left time for Shang Zhitao to think independently.

After replying, Luan Nian packed up and left the company. He had arranged dinner with Jiang Lan. Jiang Lan was the vice-chairman of the industry association, and the board of directors wanted him to make an effort to become a domestic industry association consultant. Luan Nian had suggested the board choose someone else, but they said no—Jiang Lan specifically liked him.

Luan Nian drove to the dinner venue, a Japanese restaurant. Jiang Lan hadn’t arrived yet, so he sat waiting, not rushing her. After waiting about forty minutes, he called Jiang Lan. She answered and apologized profusely: “I’m so sorry, I’m stuck in traffic.”

“No problem, shall we reschedule?”

“No, let’s stick to today. I’m late, so I’ll treat you. Please wait for me a bit longer.”

“Alright.”

Luan Nian hung up, knowing Jiang Lan was playing games. She was used to being the client, which had made her arrogant. Luan Nian understood. He took out his laptop to handle work. When Jiang Lan arrived, he stood up to greet her: “You must be tired.”

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“It’s fine. Just give me ten minutes, I just received an urgent email that needs immediate attention.” There was no email—this was just payback. He opened an email, typed something random, and furrowed his brow, putting on a convincing act. Jiang Lan sat beside him, waiting. After twenty minutes, she finally smiled: “You’re petty.”

Luan Nian pretended not to understand as he put away his laptop: “Shall we eat?”

“I sincerely apologize—waiting for someone isn’t pleasant.”

“Starving, aren’t you?” Luan Nian didn’t engage with her point, instead turning to the waiter: “Please start serving.”

“Would you like some alcohol?” Jiang Lan asked him.

“I drove here.”

“Where’s your driver?”

Luan Nian smiled: “I suppose I could have a small drink.”

Luan Nian had a small drink with Jiang Lan. Like last time, they didn’t discuss work. Jiang Lan talked about how, after her last breakup, she went to Hokkaido alone for a few days: “I felt that love was draining at that time. I’d rather not fall in love anymore.”

“Learning from past mistakes?”

“Don’t you feel the same?”

“No.”

Jiang Lan laughed. When she laughed, her eyes narrowed into slits, looking somewhat seductive. She was the kind of woman who knew exactly where her charm lay and knew how to display it: “But I heard your last relationship gave you quite a headache.”

“To be honest, not really. Why trouble yourself unnecessarily?”

That’s just how Luan Nian was—he now cherished his freedom. Jiang Lan rested her chin on her hand as she looked at him, thinking how pleasing this man was to the eye. During the meal, she had just that small drink and only ate a few bites. She said to Luan Nian: “I need to be disciplined. Maintaining my figure is difficult.”

“I understand,” Luan Nian nodded.

During the meal, Jiang Lan shared a lot about her past. It seemed like she hadn’t opened up to anyone like this for a long time—once she started, she couldn’t stop. She even talked about her first time, on a drizzly night in a motel outside Las Vegas.

Luan Nian listened quietly, rarely interrupting.

His patient listening made Jiang Lan feel pleased. Despite her apparent success and busy social life, she deeply disliked vulgar men. She preferred men with a certain integrity, which she could then slowly dismantle until they became one with her. She enjoyed this hunting game, and Luan Nian was the finest prey.

After having drinks, they went outside. The evening breeze was intoxicating, and Jiang Lan was slightly tipsy, stumbling a bit. Luan Nian reached out to steady her arm and helped her into the car. He asked, “Where shall I take you?”

“My place, please.” She gave an address, and Liu Wu nodded: “Alright.”

Jiang Lan looked at Luan Nian’s face, alternately illuminated and shadowed—such a handsome face. She placed her palm on his knee, leaned close, and whispered in his ear: “Would you like to come up to my place?”

“I don’t do one-night stands.”

“Long-term… secret… no emotional attachment…”

“I don’t have that habit.” After saying this, Luan Nian suddenly thought of Shang Zhitao, who had asked him where to put her contact lens case, bathrobe, and pajamas. Men truly lie without blinking. How could he claim not to have this habit? He was currently developing exactly this habit!

Luan Nian collected himself and sighed: “I thought our relationship would be of higher quality.”

“Like what?” Jiang Lan sat back, resting her head against the seat, turning to look at him. Her collar was slightly open, revealing unlimited allure—the kind that would disarm most men. Yet it didn’t move Luan Nian.

Luan Nian smiled at her without providing an answer.

He turned to look out the window, thinking that next time they should send someone else to deal with Jiang Lan—too exhausting. After dropping off Jiang Lan, he finally arrived home, took a shower, and lay in bed. Remembering Shang Zhitao’s problem, he called her: “Did you solve the problem?”

Shang Zhitao was climbing stairs, sounding a bit out of breath: “Not completely solved yet. I sent an email inviting everyone to a project progress communication meeting tomorrow.”

“I didn’t receive your email.”

“…I didn’t send it to you.”

“Why not? You’re holding a project progress meeting without inviting the department heads? What will you use to intimidate others? Relying on your fierceness? Even the stray cats downstairs are fiercer than you.”

“I…”

“What time tomorrow?”

“Three in the afternoon.”

“I see.” After saying this, Luan Nian heard the sound of unlocking from Shang Zhitao’s end and asked: “Are you home?”

Shang Zhitao lowered her voice, speaking softly into the phone: “Yes.” She was afraid of disturbing her roommates. Zhang Lei had been working overtime and traveling for business consecutively, Sun Yuanzhu had joined an autonomous driving project that had him working day and night, and Sun Yu had been dragged into researching a matchmaking website—everyone was busy and needed good sleep.

She gently closed the door, tiptoed to her bedroom, shut the door, and then said: “Luke, I’m home. Why aren’t you asleep so late?”

“I just got home.”

“Oh.”

“Go to sleep.”

“Good night.”

Luan Nian hung up, thinking that he must be bored to care about a regular employee’s project progress in the middle of the night. But Shang Zhitao was grateful, sending a message after hanging up: “Luke, thank you so much for guiding me on this project.”

Luan Nian didn’t know how to respond, just as when she suddenly told him she had independently taken on a project. So he tossed his phone aside and closed his eyes, preparing to sleep. After a while, he reached for his phone again: “No problem, you’re welcome, do your best.”

“I will work hard.”

I know.

Luan Nian had never seen anyone work as hard as Shang Zhitao. It was just a job, yet she worked as if she had no fallback plan or support. The other day, Tracy discussed the company’s hiring strategy for the next year with him, mentioning that she wanted to recruit one or two more people like Shang Zhitao. Her exact words were: “Do you see? Shang Zhitao is a hiring experiment. The results tell us that with a bit of talent and enough hard work, one can overcome the differences brought by educational background.”

Tracy was somewhat proud—Shang Zhitao was her very successful test subject. Luan Nian hadn’t contradicted her that day.