After the New Year, I was simultaneously wrapping up the previous project while frantically reviewing new project proposals. The housing construction market was increasingly sluggish, with pitifully few suitable projects available.

My anxiety burned like fire inside.

Cheng Xia said, “Isn’t it good to work regular hours?”

I said, “I’m different from others.”

You’re only called a project manager when you have projects—without projects, you’re nothing. If I don’t take advantage of my youth to build up more achievements, how can I establish myself in the company?

Cheng Xia just laughed: “You’re anxious when you have things to do, and when you don’t, you create things to be anxious about.”

I said, “Easy for you to say!”

He obediently raised his hands in surrender: “I’m sorry, I was wrong! My girlfriend is the best in the world!”

…My face flushed red in an instant.

Just moments ago I was like a chestnut roasting on fire, constantly worried about cracking and bursting.

Now I suddenly transformed into a chestnut cake, soft and sweet.

He said, “The company’s having a team-building ski trip this weekend. Family members are welcome. Want to go?”

I said affectedly, “This family member will consider it.”

In truth, how could I not go? With so many young girls at his company eyeing him, I’d crawl there if I had to.

Friday we had to attend a meeting at headquarters. It would end at five, and he’d pick me up directly to go to the ski resort.

Headquarters meetings were always tediously long and excruciating.

One type always had to start from global upheavals and macroeconomic policies… If I could understand these things, I’d have been sitting in their seats with my legs crossed long ago.

The other type loved to complain.

Headquarters was fairly satisfied with my project. After all, it was a project won through low bidding—making any profit at all was worth burning incense over. The senior leadership even gave special praise.

But most projects hadn’t met expectations, and there weren’t many new projects coming in.

After the chairman complained, the general manager complained. After the general manager complained, the vice presidents complained. After the vice presidents complained, the department managers complained…

Actually, translated into plain language, it meant: the company is struggling so badly, whoever dares not work hard, I’ll fire them!

Those of us sitting in the back were mostly drowsy, or stuffing ourselves with oranges. I didn’t dare sleep or eat, because Old Feng was sitting in the leadership section where a single glance would reveal me.

Old Feng hated people being lackadaisical or having poor posture.

Even if it gave me cervical spondylosis, I kept my spine ramrod straight the entire time.

Hanging on until five o’clock, it finally ended.

Everyone took group photos or left. Just as I was about to call Cheng Xia, I received a WeChat from Old Feng asking me to wait for him in his office.

I had no choice but to tell Cheng Xia: “Mr. Feng wants to talk to me about something. I might be a bit delayed.”

Cheng Xia replied: “No problem. I’ll wait across from your company.”

This was the first time I’d come to Old Feng’s office since that incident.

He was still drinking tea. He said, “The last project was completed well, especially the timeline—very precise.”

I said, “Thank you for the leadership’s affirmation. It’s precisely because of the leadership and company’s support that everyone worked so solidly and diligently, enabling us to complete tasks at each milestone. It has little to do with me personally.”

Old Feng hummed in acknowledgment, then asked me about some branch office matters, after which he assigned me some work—summarizing the meeting minutes from earlier, especially the data analysis from various projects, to give him by next week.

We both knew full well his secretary could do this.

The reason for assigning me work was to maintain the delicate connection that I was “his person.”

One sentence after another, we talked for an hour and a half.

I wore a smile on my face, but inside I was anxious and agitated.

Cheng Xia was still waiting for me. His colleagues might even be waiting for him to depart together. And I didn’t even have a way to send him a WeChat message to explain.

Finally, Old Feng finished talking. He picked up his coat and said, “Let’s go.”

I glanced at my phone. Half an hour ago, Cheng Xia had called me, then said, “Let me know when you’re done.”

I quickly replied: Already done, I’m coming out now.

Old Feng turned back and called to me, “What are you waiting for? Hurry up and follow.”

My heart tightened. I wanted to refuse, but the next moment I saw other leaders in the corridor.

…I absolutely couldn’t make the leader lose face at this moment.

We walked out. I opened the car door for Old Feng and sat in the passenger seat myself. Before getting in, I glanced toward the entrance.

Cheng Xia’s car was parked there.

He probably hadn’t eaten yet—he never ate anything on the street or in the car.

“I’m sorry, the leadership said they’re going to dinner. I have to accompany them.”

Cheng Xia replied with a question mark.

“Didn’t you tell him you had plans?”

How could I say that? The leader was giving me an opportunity. I couldn’t be ungrateful, could I?

But I didn’t know how to explain this to Cheng Xia either. He wouldn’t understand.

I could only say, “Sorry, sorry. You should go ahead. Don’t wait for me.”

Cheng Xia: But I’ve already been waiting for you for almost two hours.

Me: I’m sorry!!

Cheng Xia: …How long until you’re done?

I said: …Don’t know.

He replied with an “understood” emoji and said nothing more.

We arrived at a farmhouse-style restaurant. It looked plain and simple on the outside—the kind where you look at the menu and go completely blind.

I was the youngest with the least seniority, so I ran back and forth serving tea and pouring wine for the leaders.

“Little Ren is good, has keen perception…” one leader said. “Young girls like this are rare nowadays.”

Old Feng smiled, “She still has much to learn!”

Someone said something in Minnan dialect, and everyone roared with laughter. I couldn’t understand, so I could only laugh awkwardly along, which made them laugh even more exaggeratedly.

Later I understood this was a semi-familiar gathering—the leaders were all from the same faction, so after three rounds of drinks, they no longer sat upright discussing industrial revitalization and development. All kinds of crude and dirty jokes came out.

Subordinates, especially women, were naturally uncomfortable in such situations, but what could I do? When the leaders said they’d never heard northeastern errenzhuan, I could only twirl a handkerchief while belting out “Little New Year’s Greeting.”

They laughed until tears came out.

My tears came out too.

Old Feng also drank too much. Although I blocked eighty percent of the drinks for him, he placed his hand on the back of my chair and said, “You—you—you don’t listen.”

I immediately stood up to get the newly served yangchun noodles, groveling: “Leader, would you like to eat some staple food? It’ll make your stomach feel better.”

He shook his head, leaned close to me, and lowered his voice: “If you complete a few more projects this year, headquarters will have an opening next year…”

My heart pounded wildly. The hand serving him yangchun noodles was trembling.

He impatiently took the bowl from me, tossed it aside, and continued, “During this time, first, do your work well. Second, upgrade your academic credentials. Don’t make things difficult for me, understand?”

“I understand.”

He reached out as if to pat my head, but as he got close to me, he lowered his hand instead and said, “Go on.”

By the time the meal ended it was past ten. I hugged the toilet and vomited violently. After seeing each leader off to their cars, I couldn’t hold on anymore and sat exhausted against a wall.

It was so cold, and my stomach hurt.

I took out my phone. On the screen was a candid photo of Cheng Xia reading a book called “Unbuilt: An Anti-Architecture History.” The afternoon sunlight shone on his face, gentle and clean like a white shirt fresh from the dryer.

He really was too perfect to be someone’s white moonlight. I thought, he’d been good-looking for so many years, and every time I saw him, I felt a crescent moon rising in my heart.

I sent him a WeChat: “Sorry, sorry. Today was my fault. Did you get to ski?”

He replied after a long while: “Yeah. Are you done eating?”

Me: “Just finished. These people must be reincarnated wine barrels—nearly drank me to death.”

Him: “Then come out. I’m waiting outside for you.”

I stood up in disbelief and saw a car not far away flash its hazard lights once.

Cheng Xia got out of the car. A streak of streetlight like flowing moonlight illuminated his somewhat helpless smile.

I ran toward him. It truly was like spring wind releasing a thousand trees of blossoms at night. In the early spring chill, the white magnolias along the street had all bloomed, their flowers full and plump like tens of thousands of soft white doves.

I buried my head in his chest. He was warm all over, with a clean and refreshing soap fragrance carrying a hint of citrus.

“Why did you come?” I heard my somewhat hoarse voice—I’d drunk too much.

“I still wanted to take you skiing, so I followed your car here,” he said. “Who knew you could eat for so long?”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t eaten until now?”

“Of course.” His voice truly sounded a bit angry. “But…”

He pushed me away, pointed at a bag in the passenger seat, and said with a grin, “I bought a family bucket meal planning to eat it with you.”

Great! How wonderful! I hadn’t eaten my fill earlier! I loved family bucket meals!

I didn’t know how to nod to express my happiness. I really wanted to do somersaults.

Just then, the sound of a horn came from not far away. We both turned to look—it was Old Feng’s car returning.

Old Feng got out of the car, showing not the slightest trace of drunkenness. He looked at me and said, “Dongxue, who is this? Introduce him.”