The cabbage was eaten by the pig

Ming Shuzhen’s popularity stemmed from her kind, non-abrasive personality, her cute appearance that appealed to both guys and girls, and her proactive nature in making friends.

Back in school, she’d coax even the shyest classmates into whispering with her, much to teachers’ chagrin. Though she mellowed out over time, her social skills remained sharp.

After Ming Shuyan’s ambiguous “Nice” comment, Ming Shuzhen decided to take it as a friendly signal, regardless of its true intent.

Having taken Han Shuyu to the hospital and home, it was already midnight. Seeing her boss still awake, scrolling Moments, Ming Shuzhen felt a pang of sympathy.

She’d watched dramas where tough CEOs secretly craved warmth and care, moved by small gestures. Though such domineering CEO romances weren’t realistic, she thought there was some truth to it.

Human nature—why should someone high up be excluded from connection? Colleagues ate in groups, chattered in elevators. Yet Ming Shuyan was always alone. Did she ever feel lonely?

Despite her friends’ warnings to be cautious, Ming Shuzhen’s soft heart led her to message Ming Shuyan.

“Boss, why’re you still up?”

“Hm, reviewing leave requests. Yours isn’t here?” Ming Shuyan replied instantly.

“…” Ming Shuzhen froze, realizing her friends were right—be wary, don’t empathize with the capitalist, block your boss from Moments.

She’d taken half a day off through Meilin, who said it didn’t need HR’s approval to keep full pay. But she couldn’t throw Meilin under the bus.

“Maybe… maybe… maybe it hasn’t uploaded yet?” she stammered, passing the buck to HR.

“Is that so?” Ming Shuyan sent a voice note, her tone flat, slightly hoarse from the late hour.

“HR’s usually efficient. I’ll check tomorrow.”

Past midnight, it was technically a new day, but the dark sky made it feel like the old one.

“No, no need, Boss,” Ming Shuzhen wailed internally, not wanting to doom HR’s staff.

Forget CEOs craving warmth or romance dramas—she just wanted to save herself and her colleagues.

She started typing an explanation, taking the blame for skipping work to hang out, when Ming Shuyan sent a video call invite.

Startled, Ming Shuzhen bolted upright, smoothed her hair, and answered, eyes wide, forcing calm. “B-Boss.”

Ming Shuyan sat on her bed, makeup-free, in plain pajamas, no necklace or earrings—uncharacteristically bare.

Too plain, almost unfamiliar.

“Scared you?” Ming Shuyan’s tone was gentle, not accusing.

Ming Shuzhen wasn’t sure if “scared you” referred to the missing leave or her bare face. Truthfully, the former spooked her. The latter? Ming Shuyan looked stunning without makeup.

No cold jewelry, no harsh eyeliner, even her lips paler, like a kind older sister next door.

“Boss, you look great without makeup,” Ming Shuzhen hedged, unsure of the situation.

“Really?” Ming Shuyan’s lips curved up, visible in the video. Without fake lashes, her light-colored eyes shone, lashes fluttering like butterflies in sunlight.

Small, delicate butterflies.

“Yup,” Ming Shuzhen answered honestly, nodding earnestly.

“Alright, I’ll let this skipping-work thing slide,” Ming Shuyan said.

Relieved, Ming Shuzhen thought, *So the boss likes flattery?*

“Boss, your pajamas are gorgeous, so elegant, perfect for you. Your room’s so bright, stylishly decorated. Your hair’s so full, such great quality, so refined,” she piled on, praising everything in view.

“So obvious with the flattery—you think I can’t tell?” Ming Shuyan teased.

“Hehe,” Ming Shuzhen touched her forehead, feeling silly.

The rain hadn’t stopped, the air humid.

Ming Shuyan, in white, stared at her.

“Your family nickname?”

“Huh?” Ming Shuzhen blinked. “Nickname?”

“Mm.”

“…Pillow… Pillow-Pillow,” she admitted, embarrassed.

Normally, her parents’ calls felt fine, but saying it aloud now felt mortifying.

“Pillow-Pillow?” Ming Shuyan’s eyes lit up, testing the name.

If not on video, Ming Shuzhen would’ve buried her face in her blanket, screaming internally.

Why did a name she’d grown up with burn her ears now?

Ming Shuyan, sensing the intimacy, cleared her throat. “Ahem, why’re you still up?”

“Oh, Han Shuyu sprained her ankle. Took her to the hospital, got back late,” Ming Shuzhen said. She wasn’t one for late nights.

At that, Ming Shuyan’s expression cooled. “Oh.”

No more “Pillow-Pillow,” just her full name.

“Ming Shuzhen, we leave for the trip the day after tomorrow. Prepared?”

Puzzled by the sudden shift, Ming Shuzhen eagerly grabbed her notebook to show off.

“I did tons of prep, Boss, look!” She flipped it open, showing dense notes.

Due to the mirrored video, Ming Shuyan couldn’t read them.

But the handwriting looked meticulous.

“Just a notebook?” Newbie enthusiasm was praiseworthy, but mentioning Han Shuyu soured Ming Shuyan’s mood.

“Uh, also clothes, toiletries, power bank…” Ming Shuzhen trailed off, unsure what else was needed.

“Oh, and tons of energy!” she added brightly, landing on a safe answer.

“…” Ming Shuyan stared, eyes full of disdain.

Feeling the scorn, Ming Shuzhen hid her grin.

“Boss, any other suggestions?”

“Bring…” Ming Shuyan paused. “A candy for me.”

“Huh?” Ming Shuzhen blinked, then nodded quickly. “Oh, sure, what kind?”

“You pick.”

“Okay,” Ming Shuzhen nodded seriously, treating it like a real task.

“Pillow-Pillow,” Ming Shuyan said again.

Ming Shuzhen’s eyes darted, tempted to cover the camera.

“I’m going to sleep,” Ming Shuyan said, her voice unusually soft.

“…Oh, okay,” Ming Shuzhen assumed she’d disturbed her. “I’ll hang up?”

“Mm…” Ming Shuyan drew out.

“Goodnight, Pillow-Pillow.”

Ming Shuzhen choked, reluctantly replying, “Goodnight, Boss.”

Hanging up, sleep eluded her.

She sent Zhong Shuo an emoji.

Midnight was Zhong Shuo’s peak gaming time, so she replied fast. “Rare, you’re up this late. Awake or never slept?”

“Didn’t sleep. Video?” Ming Shuzhen asked.

“Bet,” Zhong Shuo sent a video call invite.

Once connected, Ming Shuzhen blurted, “Call me Pillow-Pillow.”

“What?” Zhong Shuo gaped, like watching a circus act. “Up all night, brain kicked by a donkey?”

“Just call me,” Ming Shuzhen whined, pleading.

“Fine, fine,” Zhong Shuo relented. “Your parents call you that all the time—why me?”

“Call!” Ming Shuzhen yelled.

“Feisty, huh? Yell at your boss,” Zhong Shuo teased.

Before Ming Shuzhen could respond, Zhong Shuo said, “Pillow-Pillow.”

Ming Shuzhen savored it. “Again.”

“Psycho,” Zhong Shuo grumbled. “Pillow-Pillow, Pillow-Pillow, Pillow-Pillow!”

“Not right, softer.”

“Die. Pillow-Pillow!”

“No feeling, hanging up,” Ming Shuzhen glanced at her, eyes rolling.

“Ming Shuzhen!” Zhong Shuo roared, not hanging up.

Ming Shuzhen wasn’t serious either. “Why don’t I feel anything when you guys call my nickname?”

“What feeling do you want?” Zhong Shuo frowned. “Who else called it?”

“Ming Shuyan,” Ming Shuzhen admitted.

“Ming Shuyan? Who—” Zhong Shuo caught on. “Oh, your boss?”

“What?” Realizing, Zhong Shuo roared again. “Your boss? Calling you Pillow-Pillow? No way, what’s her deal? So creepy.”

“…It’s not that bad,” Ming Shuzhen said, unknowingly defending her. “Her voice is nice. Maybe she just wants to be closer to subordinates, asked what my family calls me, and used it.”

“…” Zhong Shuo squinted sharply. “You’re off.”

“No way,” Ming Shuzhen looked down, avoiding her gaze.

“You’re off.”

“Ugh, I’m sleeping, hanging up.”

“Why’re you defending her? I call her creepy, you don’t agree? Are we friends? I curse someone, you curse too. Curse her!”

“Curse her creepy dude.”

“My boss is a woman.”

“‘Dude’ isn’t gender, it’s vibe,” Zhong Shuo said. “Don’t dodge, curse her creepy dude.”

“Nope,” Ming Shuzhen pouted.

Zhong Shuo had a plan. “Remember the high school girl with pigtails, cheating and framing me? Trashy, right?”

Ming Shuzhen nodded. “Trashy.”

“Elementary school boy, always picking on me, bad?”

“Bad.”

“Li San’s a pig.”

“Who’s Li San?” Ming Shuzhen stayed alert.

“Made him up, don’t care,” Zhong Shuo waved. “Is he a pig?”

“Yup.”

“Is Ming Shuyan a creepy dude?”

“No,” Ming Shuzhen said firmly.

“Hey!” Zhong Shuo tsked. “See the problem?”

“What?” Ming Shuzhen was lost.

“Growing up, you always cursed whoever I cursed. Why not your boss? Is she special? A goddess?”

“…” Ming Shuzhen looked at Zhong Shuo innocently, blinking. “I just think she’s nice, don’t want to curse her.”

“Why curse Li San, someone you don’t know, as a pig?” Zhong Shuo pressed.

“You said he’s fake,” Ming Shuzhen said, guileless.

“I made him up, and you still cursed. Whatever, you know who matters more,” Zhong Shuo said.

“You, you, you’re the most,” Ming Shuzhen laughed, exasperated.

“No, I said your nickname gave no feeling. What feeling do you want? Your boss calling it gave you a feeling? What kind?”

“Ugh, hanging up, gotta sleep, work tomorrow,” Ming Shuzhen dodged.

“No, you’re off. I feel like the cabbage got snatched by a pig.”

“Go play your game. It’s the pig snatching the cabbage.”