Good night, pillow.

After Ming Shuyan left, Ming Shuzhen slumped in her office chair, looking defeated.

Qian Duoduo, across from her, gave a sympathetic look. “You could go, you know.”

Ming Shuzhen blinked, unmoved. For her, the best news would be Ming Shuyan not going or her getting out of it. Nothing else mattered much.

“The boss probably wants to train you,” Meilin said gently, like a comforting big sister. “You’re new, not fully familiar with the equipment. A trip with her means she can guide you—great learning opportunity.”

Ming Shuzhen pursed her lips, hesitant to speak.

She wasn’t ungrateful. As a workplace newbie, she wanted every chance to grow.

But she didn’t want more misunderstandings—people thinking Ming Shuyan was giving her special treatment, fueling nepotism rumors.

“If you want to go, send me a WeChat,” Meilin told the team.

Most had ongoing projects or family responsibilities, reluctant to travel. Few messaged Meilin.

Chen Hao and Qian Duoduo didn’t.

The Red Brick app pinged with details on the low-energy library project and Team One’s prior progress reports.

The “Light Source Book House” was a public welfare library built by architects and local government, 70% solar-powered, with bold, innovative design—light wood front hall, 25cm-thick wall insulation, 20cm-thick foundation insulation, and a glass corridor encircling it.

A big project, but not one Ming Shuyan would typically oversee personally.

Seeing the update, everyone glanced at Ming Shuzhen, the unspoken message clear: the boss was favoring her, assigning this for her benefit.

Ming Shuzhen, oblivious, stared at the screen’s details, feeling drained.

She couldn’t convince colleagues she wasn’t a nepotism hire—the more she explained, the worse it got. Her only solution was to confront Ming Shuyan directly, have her clarify her ordinary status for credibility.

—

Telling Zhong Shuo about the trip, Zhong Shuo exploded, firing off voice messages.

“How long’s it been since we hung out? Do you even remember what your best friend looks like—one nose, two eyes?”

“We tried planning last week—you’re busy, Chang Haixi’s working late, Zhang Baobao ignores her phone. How many times have we all met since graduation?”

“I’m done. Just cleared a tower, but now I’m in no mood. How long’s this trip? We said we’d meet this week—Baobao even promised to clear her schedule. Are you all celebrities now? Is this a fan meet? Why’s it so hard?”

Zhong Shuo’s “tower” was gaming slang. Ming Shuzhen didn’t get it, but the background—mouse clicks, teammates’ yells—showed Zhong Shuo was genuinely mad, too upset to game.

Meekly, Ming Shuzhen replied, “One nose, two eyes.”

Zhong Shuo went silent.

Ming Shuzhen sent a flurry of pleading emojis.

“Tomorrow, we’ll eat together,” she added with a “promise” emoji.

“It’s raining tomorrow, baby,” Zhong Shuo drawled, sounding defeated.

“Hail or storm, I’ll take leave, okay?” Ming Shuzhen coaxed.

“Ask Baobao and Haixi,” Zhong Shuo relented.

With Zhong Shuo placated, Ming Shuzhen pinged Zhang Baobao and Chang Haixi in their group chat about dinner tomorrow.

Post-graduation, everyone was swamped, unable to sync for meetups. This time, Ming Shuzhen’s push made them resolve to meet despite busy schedules.

Zhang Baobao was Ming Shuzhen’s college classmate and roommate. Chang Haixi, a journalism major, met Ming Shuzhen during a campus interview and later dated Zhang Baobao.

Ming Shuzhen, always good with people, kept loose ties with many—New Year’s greetings and such. After meeting Zhang Baobao, she introduced her childhood friend Zhong Shuo, and the trio hit it off.

Dinner plans set, Ming Shuzhen turned to Meilin, rubbing her palms, a bit shy.

“Meilin-jie,” she called softly.

“Hm? What’s up?” Meilin, busy, glanced over, eyes still on her screen.

“Can I take tomorrow afternoon off?”

“Sure,” Meilin approved without questions. “Just go. Half-day doesn’t need HR’s slip—keep your full day’s pay.”

Ming Shuzhen waved her hands, fearing special treatment. “No, do it properly. No favoritism. I’m really not—ugh, QAQ—not a nepotism hire!”

Meilin finally turned, puzzled but amused by the outburst.

“No one’s giving you special treatment,” Meilin winked. “Relax, I won’t pull strings.”

“The boss wouldn’t either,” Ming Shuzhen said, pained. “Meilin-jie, I’m not connected to her.”

“Okay, okay, we get it,” Meilin said. “Get up to speed on your new project. The boss is serious about work.”

“…” Ming Shuzhen sighed, thrilled about the leave but frustrated the rumor lingered.

She researched Light Source Book House online—a globally noted project for its low energy use and bold design, a rural revitalization effort with government promotion.

She took detailed notes in her notebook.

—

The next day, finishing work at noon, Ming Shuzhen zoomed off in her purple Mercedes to meet her friends.

The forecast had predicted rain, and sure enough, big drops pelted the pavement, darkening the concrete.

In the car, rain pattered on the roof, north winds howled, but it didn’t feel bleak.

Maybe her good mood—excited to see old friends.

At the venue, she handed her car to the valet, opened her umbrella, and entered.

Zhong Shuo and the others waited at the entrance.

“Aaah!” They reverted to primal screams, hugging excitedly.

Chang Haixi, the only guy, stood aside, smiling broadly.

Zhang Baobao picked the place—a spot with a poker room, escape games, dining, and a bartender.

They checked out the poker room but, not wanting brainy games, ordered drinks there.

“Hungry, let’s order food,” Zhang Baobao said, her long green hair and heavy eyeliner giving off a punk vibe—someone Ming Shuzhen might avoid if she didn’t know her.

“Order, order!” Zhong Shuo slapped the drink and food menus. “Anything.”

“You paying?” Zhang Baobao teased, smirking.

“I’m paying. Cleared a tower yesterday, feeling good,” Zhong Shuo said, tomboyish in short hair, eyes sparkling like a spirited elf.

“Your jobs cover insurance and funds?” Chang Haixi, a roving reporter-photographer-host-writer, overworked and considering a job switch, asked.

“You talk like a civil servant,” Zhong Shuo said coolly. “I’m my own unit. One tower, 300,000.”

The three gaped. Chang Haixi choked on his drink. “How much?”

“RMB?”

“Game currency, duh,” Zhong Shuo waved off, expecting their reaction.

They exhaled. “Oh.”

“What! Game coins aren’t coins?” Zhong Shuo protested.

“Sure, sure, for skins and cosmetics,” they teased.

After some banter, food arrived, and they moved to a private booth.

“Spill about your boss,” Zhong Shuo prodded Ming Shuzhen.

“What boss?” Zhang Baobao, studying for her second grad school attempt, rarely checked her phone and was out of the loop.

“Pillow’s caught her boss’s eye, now going on a work trip with her,” Zhong Shuo winked, whispering, “Her boss is a woman.”

“That’s ‘appreciation,’” Zhang Baobao corrected.

“Exactly, appreciation,” Ming Shuzhen nodded, relieved for a positive term.

“‘Caught her eye’ sounds awful.”

“It’s *that* kind—wanting to sleep with, date her,” Zhong Shuo insisted.

“What?” Zhang Baobao and Chang Haixi stared at Ming Shuzhen. “Your boss is a lesbian?”

“Ignore her nonsense,” Ming Shuzhen glared at Zhong Shuo. “My boss is just friendly, cares about subordinates.”

“Hm,” Zhong Shuo smirked cryptically.

Gossip ignited, they pressed for details.

Ming Shuzhen reluctantly recounted—colleagues’ nepotism assumptions, Ming Shuyan taking her fish shopping, driving with colleagues, and asking her to treat her to meals.

“Doesn’t sound special,” Chang Haixi said bluntly.

“You don’t get it,” Zhong Shuo rolled her eyes. “My years of lesbian intuition say your boss is suspicious. Always showing up, so attentive—she might have a crush.”

Surprisingly, Zhang Baobao nodded. “She does seem overly focused—asking about breakfast. Your colleagues fear her, so she’s not the ‘friendly’ type. Maybe she’s only special to you.”

“Oh,” Zhong Shuo remembered. “Didn’t you say she gave you an expensive scarf? So eager—ulterior motives.”

“She said it was a freebie.”

“Why only give it to you?”

“Maybe…” Ming Shuzhen recalled commenting on the scarf’s beauty in the car. “I said it looked nice.”

“She took it off her neck to give you? That’s intimate,” Zhong Shuo teased.

“Change topics, please,” Ming Shuzhen groaned.

“Nope,” Zhong Shuo refused.

Zhang Baobao nodded seriously. “I don’t buy the crush, but she’s crossing boundaries, too attentive. Be cautious on this trip.”

“What could she do?” Ming Shuzhen brushed it off.

“Skin you, drain you,” Zhong Shuo spooked.

—

Finally reuniting, with Chang Haixi’s photography skills, they took tons of photos.

Ming Shuzhen posted a nine-grid Moments: *Finally together! (confetti)*

After posting, they kept joking.

The rain poured outside, a soothing white noise adding comfort.

“Bring warm clothes for the trip; it’ll cool after rain,” Zhang Baobao said.

“Mm,” Ming Shuzhen nodded. “First trip—kinda excited.”

“For what?” Chang Haixi, a seasoned traveler, advised, “Track invoices, log everything, stay cautious, don’t rush in, protect yourself.”

“Got it,” Ming Shuzhen looked at him gratefully.

“Call if you need me,” Zhong Shuo said. “I’m the freest, right? Anytime.”

“No way,” they all shot back.

“You’re glued to games, ghosting messages.”

“Bullshit,” Zhong Shuo said, then wavered. “I’m paying society’s electricity bill, dedicating my life to tech.”

They laughed, moving to other topics.

Until dark, they played poker, ate everything, and parted.

“This place is solid—no smoke smell,” Zhong Shuo said.

“Agree,” Zhang Baobao raised both hands. “Probably lots of women—extra women’s restroom.”

“Deal, come back next time,” Zhong Shuo said boldly.

Only Chang Haixi drank, but he rode with Zhang Baobao, no worries.

Zhong Shuo’s teammate picked her up, urging her to game after dinner.

Ming Shuzhen, umbrella up, got in her car, everyone waving reluctantly.

“Message when you’re home,” they reminded each other.

After the meetup, Ming Shuzhen drove her purple Mercedes through the rainy night.

Streetlights cast warm yellow beams, raindrops forming a curtain.

Ming Jianchang had been calling, now sending another call invite.

“Not home yet? I’ll pick you up—night driving’s unsafe, especially in rain,” he said, worried. Ming Shuzhen heard Wu Yuanchu’s voice too.

“Almost home, don’t worry.”

Buoyed by friends, her voice lifted. “Is Teacher Wu there? No class tomorrow? Go sleep.”

“You’re bossing me now?” Wu Yuanchu teased. “Get home, rest—you working tomorrow?”

“Yup, yup,” Ming Shuzhen giggled.

“How was the friend meetup?” Wu Yuanchu and Ming Jianchang asked.

She shared safe topics, avoiding parental worry.

Mentioning the trip with her boss, her parents were more enthusiastic, suggesting what to bring.

“It’s just a few days—too much stuff! Don’t pack for me or come over. I can drive now,” Ming Shuzhen blurted, ready to hang up.

Wu Yuanchu, anticipating, rushed, “Don’t hang up.”

“What now?”

“Goodnight, Pillow. Don’t overwork. Quit if you’re tired—health first. Your dad and I have pensions,” Wu Yuanchu said sappily.

“Got it, got it,” Ming Shuzhen brushed off, heart softening. “I’ll tell you about the trip when I’m back.”

“Stay sharp out there,” Ming Jianchang added.

Hanging up, Han Shuyu’s call came in.

Ming Shuzhen chuckled—her day was like a diplomat’s, juggling meetings.

“Han Shuyu, what’s up?” she answered.

The call was choppy—outside, heavy rain.

Through it, Ming Shuzhen caught Han Shuyu’s plea.

House-hunting, she was stood up by an agent, took the wrong bus, and sprained her ankle.

Stranded, unable to get a ride, her phone dying, she needed Ming Shuzhen.

Despite her novice driving, Ming Shuzhen didn’t hesitate, asking for her location and heading out.

On the way, she kept the call open. Though Han Shuyu was tough, Ming Shuzhen wanted her to feel accompanied.

In this rainy, unfamiliar place, a familiar voice would comfort.

But Han Shuyu’s phone didn’t last, shutting off soon.

Arriving, rain still falling, Ming Shuzhen turned on high beams, stepped out, and searched.

The area was a new complex, low occupancy, no security, empty streets, no shops—undeveloped.

Umbrella in one hand, phone flashlight in the other, she called softly, “Han Shuyu, Han Shuyu.”

Rain drowned her voice.

She shouted louder.

Luckily, Han Shuyu, nearby, saw the car and guessed it was her, responding.

They spotted each other.

Han Shuyu crouched under a wall, a big black umbrella overhead, clothes soaked, pant legs dark.

Ming Shuzhen rushed over, pained. “Let me help you up.”

She pocketed her phone, pulling Han Shuyu up.

Her ankle was swollen, but she didn’t complain, leaning on Ming Shuzhen to stand, favoring one leg.

Ming Shuzhen supported her to the car.

Once inside, the rain’s noise faded, blocked by the windows.

“Let’s get you to the hospital,” Ming Shuzhen set the GPS.

“Thanks,” Han Shuyu said, brows low, clothes dripping onto the seat.

“Sorry, I wet your car.”

“Psh,” Ming Shuzhen said casually, hands light on the wheel. “Was gonna wash it soon anyway. There’s a cable—charge your phone.”

“Mm,” Han Shuyu nodded, knowing it was comfort.

To shift topics, Ming Shuzhen said, “That complex—barely any lights, low occupancy. Don’t rent there.”

“Mm,” Han Shuyu agreed. Low occupancy meant no nearby shops, inconvenient.

“I saw several places today—same issue. Cheap ones are remote, sparsely populated.”

“Didn’t you say an agent ditched you? How’d you see houses?” Ming Shuzhen asked, confused.

“Oh, I booked multiple agents to save time. Besides the no-show, I saw seven places.”

“Whoa,” Ming Shuzhen knew house-hunting was exhausting—two in a day was plenty, yet Han Shuyu managed seven.

“But it’s raining. Why not pick a clear day?”

“It wasn’t raining when I left. Thought an umbrella would do.”

She hadn’t expected such remote places, worsening rain, or spraining her ankle.

Han Shuyu looked down, fidgeting with her umbrella.

Seeing her mood, Ming Shuzhen consoled, “Rainy days are good for house-hunting. Check for leaks, mold, or loose windows.”

“Heh,” Han Shuyu smiled, finding it reasonable.

“See, tonight we saw the low occupancy issue,” Ming Shuzhen added.

“Yeah,” Han Shuyu’s mood lifted.

After getting Han Shuyu’s ankle treated and dropping her home, Ming Shuzhen returned to hers.

Parking, she laughed at her car.

Driving to find Han Shuyu, the roads were slick, rain scattering light, yet she drove cautiously without fear, focused on reaching her.

She wasn’t scared of driving anymore.

“Thanks, Han Shuyu,” she smiled.

At home, after a hot shower, her body warmed and relaxed, she rolled into bed.

Zhong Shuo and Chang Haixi posted Moments; everyone had fun.

Zhang Baobao, who’d closed her Moments after failing her grad school exam, opened it to like and comment.

Work brought new colleagues and lunch buddies, but these friends were “family”—close despite distance or silence.

Scrolling in her cozy blanket, Ming Shuzhen saw a Moments notification—a “1” from Ming Shuyan.

“Nice.”

Nice?

She sat up, studying the comment.

What’s the boss mean by “nice”?

She reread her Moments—just playful photos and selfies.

Nice… happy for friends reuniting, or shading her for slacking off to hang out?

Burrowing back into her blanket, she recalled the meetup’s talk.

Could the boss just want friends, genuinely seeking connection?