The first day of work went almost entirely smoothly, except for Luan Nian advising her to change jobs. But who was Shang Zhitao? She was someone who had cultivated a positive mindset since childhood. Her gloomy mood quickly dissipated, though she silently labeled Luan Nian as “difficult,” “strange,” and “somewhat annoying.” She secretly thought, Hmph, I won’t resign.

It was nearly midnight when Shang Zhitao returned home, and the residential complex was shrouded in darkness. Behind her came the sound of suitcase wheels rolling across the ground, following her continuously, somewhat reminiscent of a horror film.

She broke into a run, dashing into the dark stairwell, rushing up the stairs in one breath, bursting into her room and locking the door behind her. Just as she had taken off her dress and changed into her pajamas, she heard a click at the door that startled her. Then she heard the faint sound of suitcase wheels inside the apartment, followed by silence.

It must be one of her roommates whom she had never met.

Shang Zhitao waited for a while, confirming that they wouldn’t be using the bathroom, then put on a large T-shirt and went to the bathroom. She showered with such speed that even she was amazed. By the time she was lying in bed, the room’s door opened, and she heard someone enter the bathroom.

Early the next morning, when she opened her eyes, she grabbed her small basin and opened the door to see that the door diagonally opposite was also open. There stood a tall, thin young man. Shang Zhitao wasn’t wearing her contact lenses, so she couldn’t make out his features. Nevertheless, she politely smiled at him.

“You go ahead and use the bathroom, I’ll go to the kitchen,” the young man said softly, turning toward the kitchen and leaving the bathroom for Shang Zhitao, not even waiting for her thanks.

When Shang Zhitao finished getting ready, shouldered her bag, and headed out, she ran into him again. This time she could finally see him clearly—a scholarly-looking young man who appeared much more amiable than Luke.

Luke? Shang Zhitao was startled by her thoughts. Why was she thinking about that troublemaker so early in the morning?

“Heading to work?” The young man smiled at her, initiating conversation.

“Yes. Are you leaving this early too?”

“Yeah. I want to go for a run at the company.” Shang Zhitao glanced at the young man’s backpack, which bore his company’s logo. Wow, that was truly a good company. The young man noticed her gaze and smiled shyly: “Our company isn’t that great. We often work overtime and travel for business. It’s quite demanding. What about you? Where do you work?”

“Lingmei.”

“Lingmei… Many of our company’s advertisements are created by Lingmei.”

Shang Zhitao also felt a bit shy: “But I’m not the one who created them.” It was that troublemaker Luke who did.

She looked sincere and straightforward, prompting the young man to steal a glance at her. Silence fell suddenly, and they walked to the bus stop, standing in the light morning rain, waiting for the bus.

“My name is Sun Yuanzhu. And yours?”

“‘Yuanzhu’ as in ‘fierce ambition spans the four seas, strong wings soar far and high’?” Shang Zhitao asked with a smile.

“You know that?”

“My father taught me to recite it. I’m Shang Zhitao.”

After introducing herself, Shang Zhitao hopped onto the bus, sat by the window, and waved goodbye to Sun Yuanzhu.

When Shang Zhitao was little, old Shang had put in some effort, aiming to nurture his daughter into a literary giant. He taught her to recite poems and read to her every day. Shang Zhitao dutifully recited the poems and read the books, but gradually became like the young lord Adou, who could only be propped up halfway. No talent… Old Shang secretly told Da Zhai.

Again on the swaying bus, she took out a book to read. Young people are energetic; even with just five hours of sleep, she still looked fresh in the morning. She was reading a thin business English book. Yesterday, while signing contracts, she had heard other recruits mixing English into their conversations. Some words took her quite a while to recall the meaning of. Suddenly, she felt the gap between herself and them was vast, so she had dug out her reference books when she got home.

Some things were truly strange.

During school days, within that limited sphere, being in the upper-middle range, she never felt any sense of crisis. After just one day of work, a crisis came knocking. Shang Zhitao couldn’t explain why, perhaps Luan Nian’s “I advise you to change jobs” had hit her too hard.

Reading efficiency on the bus was remarkably high. She reviewed more than thirty vocabulary words and read an English poem, finishing just as she reached her stop. The long bus journey wasn’t boring at all; it was even productive.

She stuffed the book back into her backpack and jumped off the bus. Her apricot-colored dress fluttered slightly with her movement, suddenly giving her something of a youthful, graceful air. She walked briskly toward the company and nimbly slipped into the elevator just as the doors were closing.

Looking up, she saw Luan Nian, who didn’t seem surprised to see her. Clumsy birds need to fly earlier, and if you’re clumsy and unwilling to work hard, you truly won’t pass the probation period. Luan Nian had a fake smile as he teased her: “HR hasn’t arrived yet.”

“Huh?” His words stopped her morning greeting, her eyes filled with question marks of various sizes.

“You don’t need to come this early to submit your resignation letter,” Luan Nian added, assuming she wouldn’t understand. The elevator dinged open, and with his long legs, he stepped around Shang Zhitao and walked toward the office. His lips held a smile, though it was unclear whether he was joking or mocking, but either way, it felt oppressive.

Damn.

Shang Zhitao cursed inwardly in the style of Taiwanese films. The boost of energy she had given herself upon waking was completely drained by Luan Nian’s two sentences, and she suddenly felt dejected. She followed silently behind him, then quietly turned toward her own workstation. Would other new recruits be encouraged to quit by executives for two consecutive days?

Looking around, the office was quiet. She had arrived before eight, a time when most people in the company were still asleep. She took out the second day’s assignment to review—an industry manual explaining some terminology.

Those terms were obscure and difficult to understand. Shang Zhitao had to look up information while trying to comprehend, just to grasp the basics. By the time she had flipped through half the manual, colleagues gradually began to arrive. Kitty, from the same batch of recruits, seemed surprised to see Shang Zhitao: “You’re so early!”

“I found today’s materials a bit hard to understand, so I came earlier,” Shang Zhitao pointed to the materials in her hand.

“Today’s industry basics?” Kitty asked.

“Yes.”

After Shang Zhitao said this, she noticed Kitty’s strange expression and suddenly realized that for them, these should be familiar concepts. But she was straightforward—admitting her lack of understanding wasn’t shameful, though her face reddened slightly.

Kitty’s sense of superiority grew stronger. The workplace isn’t simple; many people figure out the company’s interpersonal relationships thoroughly on their first day, naturally knowing that recruits in the planning department have better prospects. Though the marketing department manages budgets, that’s only for a small fraction of people. Most still have to run events and handle execution. In Kitty’s mentor’s words: the bottom of the food chain.

Shang Zhitao was unaware of Kitty’s inner contempt for her. She focused entirely on the manual, wanting to understand these things as quickly as possible. She didn’t even notice when Lumi arrived.

Lumi placed a cup of coffee on her desk and said casually: “Your coffee, ma’am.”

Shang Zhitao was startled and hurriedly stood up, only to be pushed back into her chair by Lumi: “You’re the first one to have your mentor bring you coffee on your second day!” The Beijing girl had a loud voice and spoke in exaggerated tones, making this remark particularly amusing and causing everyone to stand up laughing to look at them.

Lumi didn’t mind and said to Shang Zhitao: “Just keep it up. Let’s change our company’s culture. Though I’d like to taste my little apprentice’s coffee, I’m happy that we’re not being conventional.” Lumi was teasing her. She didn’t have so many rules. Other mentors drank their apprentices’ coffee while criticizing them behind their backs, but she couldn’t do that. She quite liked her silly little apprentice, foolishly endearing, making people happy just looking at her.

Shang Zhitao chuckled: “Thank you, Lumi.” But inwardly, she learned that in company culture, mentors must be respected. Just like apprenticeships in ancient times, which involved burning incense, serving tea, and kowtowing—a teacher for a day is a father for life, something like that.