Chapter 6

The first day of work went almost perfectly smoothly, except for Luan Nian advising her to change jobs. But who was Shang Zhitao? She was someone who had cultivated a resilient mindset since childhood, so her frustration quickly dissipated. She just silently labeled Luan Nian as "difficult to deal with," "weird," and "a bit annoying." Secretly, she thought, "Hmph, I won’t resign."

Shang Zhitao returned home close to midnight, the neighborhood shrouded in darkness. Behind her came the sound of suitcase wheels scraping against the ground, a noise that followed her all the way, reminiscent of a horror movie.

She broke into a run, dashed into the dimly lit stairwell, raced up the stairs in one breath, and rushed into her room, locking the door behind her. Just as she had changed out of her dress into pajamas, she heard a click from the door and jumped in fright. Then came the faint sound of suitcase wheels rolling inside the room, followed by silence.

It was one of her roommates she had never met.

Shang Zhitao waited for a while, confirming he wouldn’t be using the bathroom, then slipped on a large T-shirt and headed to the shower. Her speed in washing up astonished even herself. By the time she lay in bed, the door to that room opened, and she heard someone enter the bathroom.

The next morning, as soon as she opened her eyes, she grabbed her small basin and pushed open the door, only to see the door diagonally across from hers also open. A tall, slender boy stood there. Without her contact lenses, Shang Zhitao couldn’t make out his features clearly, but she still offered a polite smile.

"You can use the bathroom. I’ll go to the kitchen," the boy said softly, turning toward the kitchen and leaving the bathroom for Shang Zhitao without waiting for her thanks.

When Shang Zhitao finished getting ready, shouldered her bag, and stepped out, she ran into him again. This time, she finally got a clear look: a boy with a strong scholarly air, who seemed much friendlier than Luke.

Luke? Shang Zhitao startled herself. Thinking about that jinx so early in the morning?

"Going to work?" The boy smiled at her, initiating the conversation.

"Yes. You’re up early too?"

"Yeah. I want to go for a run at the company." Shang Zhitao glanced at the boy’s backpack, which bore their company’s logo. Wow, that was a really good company. Noticing her gaze, the boy smiled shyly. "Our company isn't really that great—lots of overtime and business trips, very demanding. What about you? Where do you work?"

"Lingmei."

"Lingmei... Many of our company’s ads are created by Lingmei."

Shang Zhitao also felt a bit shy. "But none of those were done by me." They were done by that jinx, Luke.

Her sincerity and straightforwardness made the boy steal another glance at her. A sudden quiet fell between them as they walked to the bus stop, standing in the light morning drizzle waiting for the bus.

"My name is Sun Yuanzhu. And yours?"

"Is it the Yuanzhu from 'With soaring ambition to roam the four seas, I yearn to spread my wings and journey far'?" Shang Zhitao asked with a smile.

"You actually know that?"

"My dad taught me to memorize it. I’m Shang Zhitao."

After saying this, Shang Zhitao hopped onto the bus, took a seat by the window, and waved goodbye to Sun Yuanzhu.

When Shang Zhitao was still young, Old Shang had put in some effort, aiming to nurture his daughter into a literary giant. He taught her to recite poetry every day and read books to her. Shang Zhitao dutifully recited the poems and read the books, but slowly, she became like the little A Dou who could only be half-supported. No talent... Old Shang secretly confided to Da Zhai.

Once again on the swaying bus, she pulled out a book to read. Young people are full of energy; even with just five hours of sleep, they can still appear fresh and alert in the morning. She held a slim business English book. It was during the contract signing yesterday that she overheard others in her batch mixing English into their conversations. Some words took her a long time to recall their meanings. Suddenly, she felt a vast gap between herself and them, so she dug out this reference book as soon as she got home.

Some things are truly strange.

During her student days, the world felt small, and being above average gave her no sense of crisis. Yet, after just one day of work, that sense of crisis had already found her. Shang Zhitao couldn’t quite explain why, but perhaps it was Luan Nian’s words, "I suggest you find another job," that had struck her too deeply.

Reading on the bus proved remarkably efficient. She reviewed over thirty words and read an English poem, finishing just as the bus reached her stop. The long bus ride wasn’t boring at all; in fact, it felt productive.

She stuffed the book into her backpack and hopped off the bus. Her apricot-colored dress fluttered with her movements, giving her a youthful, graceful air. She strode briskly toward the company, slipping into the elevator just as the doors were about to close.

When she looked up, she saw Luan Nian. He didn’t seem surprised to see her. A slow bird must fly early—if you’re slow and unwilling to put in the effort, you’ll never make it past the probation period. Luan Nian gave her a thin, insincere smile and teased, "HR isn’t in yet."

"Huh?" His words cut off Shang Zhitao’s intended morning greeting, leaving her eyes filled with question marks, big and small.

"You don’t need to come this early to submit your resignation letter." Luan Nian, assuming she wouldn’t understand, added this just as the elevator dinged open. His long legs stepped around Shang Zhitao as he headed toward the office. A faint smile lingered on his lips, impossible to tell if it was playful or mocking, but his expression carried an undeniable pressure.

Damn.

Shang Zhitao cursed inwardly, mimicking the tone from Taiwanese movies. The burst of motivation she had given herself upon waking up was drained by Luan Nian’s two sentences, leaving her suddenly a bit disheartened. Silently, she followed behind him before quietly turning toward her own workstation. Do other new graduates get advised to quit by executives two days in a row?

Looking around, the workstations were quiet. She had arrived before eight, a time when most of the company was still asleep. She pulled out the materials for the second day’s assignment—an industry primer explaining some of the field’s terminology.

The terms were obscure and difficult to grasp. Shang Zhitao had to consult reference materials while trying to understand them, barely scratching the surface. By the time she was halfway through the primer, colleagues finally began trickling in. Kitty, from the same batch, looked surprised to see Shang Zhitao. "You’re here so early!"

"I didn’t understand some of today’s materials, so I came early to go over them," Shang Zhitao explained, pointing to the documents in her hand.

"Today’s industry primer?" Kitty asked.

"Yeah."

As soon as Shang Zhitao said "yeah," she noticed Kitty’s odd expression and suddenly realized that for them, this was likely old knowledge. But she was honest—admitting she didn’t understand wasn’t shameful—though her face flushed slightly.

Kitty’s sense of superiority grew stronger. The workplace isn’t simple. Many people, from their very first day, figure out the company’s interpersonal dynamics. Naturally, they know that new graduates in the planning department have brighter futures. The marketing department may manage budgets, but that’s only a small fraction of the team. Most people end up running around at events, handling execution. As Kitty’s mentor put it: the bottom of the food chain.

Shang Zhitao was unaware of the disdain Kitty harbored for her in her heart; her focus was entirely on the manual, eager to grasp its contents as quickly as possible. She didn’t even notice when Lumi arrived.

Lumi placed a cup of coffee on her desk and said casually, “Here’s your coffee.”

Startled, Shang Zhitao hurriedly stood up, only to be pressed back into her chair by Lumi. “You’re the first one to have your mentor bring you coffee on your second day at work!” The Beijing girl had a loud voice and a knack for playful banter, making the remark particularly amusing and drawing laughter from everyone as they stood up to watch.

Lumi, however, paid it no mind and said to Shang Zhitao, “Just like that, keep it up. Let’s change the company culture a bit. Though I’d love to try my apprentice’s coffee, the thought that we’re not bound by such conventions makes me happy.” Lumi was teasing her. She wasn’t one for formalities—other mentors might drink their apprentices’ coffee while secretly complaining about their incompetence, but she would never do such a thing. She genuinely liked her clumsy, somewhat foolish apprentice, whose simple nature brought her joy.

Shang Zhitao chuckled and said, “Thank you, Lumi.” But in her heart, she took note: company culture dictated that mentors must be respected. It was like the old tradition of apprenticeship, which involved burning incense, serving tea, and bowing—once a teacher, always a father. That seemed to be the principle here.