I’m happy that our names collide

With Wu Zhengyu’s issue resolved, Ming Shuyan, after consulting Team One, promoted Green Sister to team leader and Xiao Fang to deputy.

That afternoon, everyone received a bank notification—10,000 yuan deposited, Ming Shuyan’s personal funds covering Team One’s overtime pay.

It was more than standard overtime rates, a clear gesture of goodwill.

Everyone understood the boss’s intent: dealing with such a troublemaker was headache enough. With the money received, the matter was settled.

The next morning, Ming Shuzhen was jolted awake by her alarm.

Groggy, she silenced it, only for a voice call from her friend Zhong Shuo to buzz in.

Zhong Shuo, an esports player, was a night owl. Knowing Ming Shuzhen had an early start, she gamed all night, then spammed calls at 4:30 a.m.

Under the dual assault of alarm and call alerts, Ming Shuzhen dragged herself out of bed.

“Hey!” Zhong Shuo’s voice was bright, her Beijing south-side accent thick with swallowed sounds and rolled “r”s.

“Huh?” Ming Shuzhen, still foggy, mimicked her drawl, stretching the tone.

“You up?” Zhong Shuo asked, one hand on her game controls, the other fretting over her friend.

“Up, up,” Ming Shuzhen mumbled, slowly pulling on clothes.

“Your boss is picking you up, might already be at your gate,” Zhong Shuo said, knowing what’d spark her.

Sure enough, Ming Shuzhen pictured Ming Shuyan’s furrowed brow—flawless makeup, perfectly trimmed eyebrows, always in thin clothes despite the post-Light Snow chill.

Snapping awake, she leapt off the bed, shouting into the phone, “I’m up! Washing up now!”

Zhong Shuo, satisfied, hung up and dove back into her game.

After freshening up and grabbing her tool bag, Ming Shuzhen dashed out. Ming Shuyan was waiting at the gate.

In the silver car for the second time, Ming Shuzhen felt less nervous.

“Boss,” she grinned, greeting her.

Before boarding, she’d asked whether to take the front or back seat; Ming Shuyan said front.

Buckling up, she set navigation on her phone.

She’d microwaved two cans of five-grain porridge, planning to share one with Ming Shuyan.

Now, she placed a can on the center console. “This porridge is super tasty. Try it, Boss.”

Ming Shuyan glanced over. “I brought breakfast too. It’s in the bag in the back—help yourself.”

Ming Shuzhen nodded, reaching for an insulated bag.

“Made by our home chef. Eat whatever,” Ming Shuyan said.

“Nice,” Ming Shuzhen felt warmed. “Thanks, Boss.”

Unzipping the bag, steam poured out.

The spread was lavish—fragrant cakes, crab roe pastries, mashed potato beef pies…

“Whoa, so much!” Ming Shuzhen’s eyes lit up.

She grabbed a sandwich with avocado, soft-boiled egg, and salmon.

The salmon was rolled into a flower, topped with Greek yogurt.

Holding the wax paper, she took a big bite. “Mmm, delicious!”

Ming Shuyan glanced at her, chuckling softly.

Feeling full, Ming Shuzhen sipped her porridge to balance it.

Ming Shuyan played music—same artist as last time.

“Boss, you like this singer too?” Ming Shuzhen asked, swallowing her bite.

“Lady Gaga?” Ming Shuyan turned the wheel casually.

“Yeah,” Ming Shuzhen said, listening to the electronic dance track, like high heels tapping a wooden floor.

Click-clack, lively, powerful.

“Mm, listen to her often,” Ming Shuyan nodded.

She rarely had time or mood for music.

Liking Gaga wasn’t just about the energy—it tied to memories from her teens.

In high school, Ming Shuyan ran the school radio station, playing songs for students during lunch.

The school mixed junior and senior high, so younger kids often requested songs.

Requests were often dedications: “To Class X’s XX, wishing her XX.”

She remembered a gaggle of girls demanding “A-God’s” songs.

From them, she learned about someone else.

“Today’s Ming Shuzhen’s birthday, Class 7, Grade 1. Wishing her joy and beauty forever.”

“Hi, Ming Shuzhen, Class 7, Grade 1. It’s your birthday—here’s your favorite Lady Gaga song. Ace those exams!”

“Ming Shuzhen, Class 7, Grade 1, happy birthday! Eat lots of cake today.”

“Ming Shuzhen, Class 7, Grade 1, the most beautiful, kindest princess I’ve ever met.”

At first, the name caught her ear for its similarity to her own.

Later, it was the sheer volume of requests—boys and girls alike.

Ming Shuyan grew curious about this kid with her near-identical name, so universally loved.

From the radio room, she peered at the junior high building, seeing a crowd at Class 7’s floor, singing “Happy Birthday” around a girl named Ming Shuzhen.

Too far to hear, Ming Shuyan saw their laughter and animated gestures, radiating joy.

Leaning against the window, she watched a celebration not hers.

As a high schooler, she should’ve found the kids noisy, but she felt a pang of envy.

How could someone have so much love?

Not just from friends, but family too.

Ming Shuzhen’s mom brought a big cake and snacks. From afar, Ming Shuyan saw a girl in a birthday hat sharing slices.

She looked sweet, with hair clips and braids, in crisp clothes—clearly cherished and carefully dressed by her parents.

So happy, yet so piercing.

Snapping back, Ming Shuyan focused on the road.

Gaga’s processed vocals mixed with Ming Shuzhen’s soft humming beside her.

Ming Shuzhen’s family clearly valued her education.

Her badge’s neat “Full Pockets” showed calligraphy training. Her fluent English humming suggested years of arts exposure.

“What does your mom do?” Ming Shuyan asked, aware it was personal, then added, “If I can ask?”

In her memory, the cake-bearing woman had wavy hair, a warm yellow dress in winter, smiling gently, poised and cultured.

“No problem,” Ming Shuzhen nodded, seeing it as casual chat.

“My mom teaches history at a university. My dad’s a bird photographer,” she shared openly.

Wu Yuanchu, her mom, was stylish, open-minded, treating Ming Shuzhen like a sister.

Ming Jianchang, her dad, was romantic, kind, a member of China’s Wildlife Protection Association and co-founder of *Elite Bird Photography* magazine.

Ming Shuzhen grew up carefree, doted on by grandparents.

Raised in love, no wonder her eyes were always so warm and calm.

Ming Shuyan drove, listening intently.

Ming Shuzhen’s openness— unguarded, radiant like summer sun—made Ming Shuyan feel small by comparison.

“Guess I haven’t told you my name,” Ming Shuyan said, aiming for fairness.

“I know, Ming Shuyan,” Ming Shuzhen grinned, oblivious to her thoughts. “Boss, I’m Ming Shuzhen—just one character off!”

“Mm, I know,” Ming Shuyan glanced at her, seeing her delight in their name similarity.

Her fox-like eyes crinkled, shimmery eyeshadow catching light like a thawing lake under dawn.

“I called your name before,” she said softly, nostalgic.

Last time, in this car, she’d said “Shuzhen,” but Ming Shuzhen likely didn’t notice.

Ming Shuzhen gazed at the dark road, lit by streetlights’ pale glow.

“Boss, you’re so good to employees,” she said sincerely.

“How so?” Ming Shuyan asked.

“Just… really good,” Ming Shuzhen said. Checking on staff, driving them to inspections, bringing breakfast.

China’s best boss.

“Heh,” Ming Shuyan chuckled, headlights on the concrete.

She wasn’t some model boss—hiring Wu Zhengyu and missing his antics for so long proved that.

A worldly person, she needed a worldly job for respectability, nothing more.

Her lofty talk to interviewers and partners was just lip service, face-saving.

Unlike Ming Shuzhen, raised and living in love, seeing the world as dazzling and boundless.

Ming Shuyan’s upbringing made life feel futile, no matter how she lived.

…

“We’re here,” Ming Shuyan said, stopping as the GPS chimed.

Li Feiyuan’s front gate was shut, a streetlight casting faint light.

“Call him,” Ming Shuyan said, switching on high beams to brighten the area.

Li Feiyuan, roused by Ming Shuzhen’s call, welcomed them inside.