Ming Shuyan’s WeChat report

Leaving Han Shuyu’s place, Ming Shuzhen received a WeChat message from Ming Shuyan.

“Heading out for a few days. Will try to return early. Just saying hi.”

“Huh? Huh huh huh???” Ming Shuzhen blinked at the message, utterly confused.

Did Ming Shuyan send it to the wrong person? What was she doing? Saying hi to *her*? Why? Was she someone worth greeting?

No, of course she was worth it, but their relationship was just boss and employee. Why the need to check in with her?

Her fingers hovered over the chat, unsure how to respond.

In that moment, the chat showed “typing…” Ming Shuzhen stared, waiting to see what Ming Shuyan would send next.

She recalled last night’s voice call. She’d mentioned noticing Ming Shuyan’s absence from the office, prompting her message.

So… was Ming Shuyan now reporting her itinerary because of that comment?

Why? Why report to her? She wasn’t finance, not handling her salary. And the boss probably lived off dividends anyway…

Her thoughts spiraled as the “typing…” flickered on and off.

*Ugh.* Ming Shuzhen frowned. What was the boss doing, taking so long to send a message?

Finally, Ming Shuyan sent: “Bit tired today. Rest early. Goodnight, Pillow.”

“?” Ming Shuzhen’s brain short-circuited. *She’s* tired, so *I* rest? That’s all she mulled over?

Before she could reply with an emoji, her phone clattered to the ground, screen shattered.

“Sorry, sorry! Chasing my dog—I’ll pay for it!” a frantic female voice called, followed by a figure darting past.

Ming Shuzhen noticed a large border collie streak by—she’d vaguely seen a shadow earlier.

Picking up her phone, she gingerly checked it. No response. Dead.

Just like that? She hadn’t even replied to Ming Shuyan’s goodnight.

She stood frozen, unsure whether to wait or leave.

Judging by the woman’s attire and vibe, she didn’t seem like someone who’d dodge responsibility.

But… Ming Shuzhen had been distracted, not holding her phone tightly. The blame wasn’t entirely on the other person.

Hesitating, she was relieved when the woman returned, dragging the dog.

The collie was stubborn, front paws digging in, forcing the woman to tug hard.

“Uh.” Ming Shuzhen lingered by the wall, reluctant to witness this domestic drama.

The woman approached, dressed in woolen long-sleeve top and pants, no coat—likely rushed out.

“Sorry, the dog bolted, had to chase it,” she said. “How do I compensate? Can I transfer you money?”

Ming Shuzhen noted her outfit—all & Other Stories, a Swedish brand Wu Yuanchu loved for its quality and intellectual vibe.

Probably not short on cash, but time.

“I’ll check a repair shop and show you the bill,” Ming Shuzhen said, feeling the woman’s face looked familiar.

“Great, give me your WeChat. Let me know when it’s fixed,” the woman said, visibly relieved not to go to the shop.

Another woman jogged over, wearing a coat and holding a long down jacket.

“Running out like that, not afraid of catching a cold?” Her tone was sharp, though quiet.

“If you hadn’t fought with me, would Water have freaked out and run off?” the first woman snapped back.

“Me fighting with you? He Xiang, you flew from Hong Kong begging me not to break up. *You’re* begging *me*, got it?” The second woman glared, reaching for the leash.

Ming Shuzhen glanced at them, sidestepping, looking for a chance to speak.

Before she could, He Xiang addressed her. “Go fix your phone. Sorry for the delay.”

Ming Shuzhen wanted to say, “No worries, just keep your fight quieter so the dog doesn’t bolt again,” but the second woman’s glare silenced her. She grabbed her broken phone and slunk away.

As she turned, the collie, Water, wagged its tail at her, as if they shared the bond of escaping quarrelling owners.

Chuckling, she slipped into the night.

Unsure where to find a repair shop and unable to navigate with a dead phone, she hailed a cab, gave the driver He Xiang’s WeChat, and headed to a shop.

In the car, she recalled He Xiang’s face—Ming Shuyan’s sister, originally Ming Shutai.

No wonder she looked familiar. That night at the bar, Ming Shuzhen had stared long enough to remember her face, so similar to Ming Shuyan’s.

She stared at her broken phone. What a coincidence.

At the shop, she thanked the driver and went in.

The staff examined her phone—a curved screen, needing a replacement part that’d take days.

Unwilling to wait, she eyed a new foldable phone on display. She’d never tried one and decided to treat herself.

“Does this qualify for the national subsidy?” she asked.

“Yes,” the staff said, fetching it. “Your old phone’s recent—trade-in gets you 600 off. Total is…”

They calculated. “7600. Plus a free multi-function charger.”

Ming Shuzhen nodded. With the subsidy and trade-in, it was a steal. The mint green color she loved was sold out online.

“This one. Please set up my SIM.”

Phone bought, SIM installed, she logged into WeChat, accepted He Xiang and the driver’s friend requests, and paid the cab fare.

She hesitated on how to ask He Xiang for compensation. Her old phone, bought post-graduation, was only six months old.

But it had a subsidy too, and she didn’t expect full reimbursement.

He Xiang messaged: “Phone fixed? How much? I’ll transfer.”

Ming Shuzhen glanced at her new foldable phone—smaller, less familiar, but she loved the green. It felt mature, not childish.

Fresh and thrilled, she replied, “Repair would take days, so I got a new one. My old phone wasn’t pricey, used a subsidy. Maybe 3000?”

Not too much—just a gesture.

Before she could send another message, He Xiang transferred 10,000.

“Uh.” Ming Shuzhen blinked. “Too much.”

She returned it. “My new phone’s just over 7000. You sent too much.”

He Xiang sent it back. “No big deal. I wasted your time. Keep it.”

Ming Shuzhen accepted reluctantly, uneasy about unearned money but unable to return it.

Since He Xiang was Ming Shuyan’s sister, why not use the extra to buy Ming Shuyan something?

Inspired, she opened Zhong Shuo’s chat, whining about her broken phone and lost chat history, then asking what gift to get the boss.

“You okay? Don’t wander at night—get home,” Zhong Shuo replied.

“I’m fine. Phone’s traded in, found a new home.”

She sent Zhong Shuo the cab’s license plate. “Taking a taxi back.”

Zhong Shuo replied “Good,” then went quiet.

Thinking she was gaming, Ming Shuzhen was surprised when Zhong Shuo spammed images.

“Check these. Anything good for gifting?”

Ming Shuzhen opened them: eye cream, silk pajamas, bags…

“Too cheap, looks like stuff for young girls,” she complained.

“Young girls?” Zhong Shuo scoffed. “These are for 30+ women. Maybe *your* taste is too old.”

“Sis, it’s for our boss! A *leader*! Can’t it be classier?” Ming Shuzhen protested.

Zhong Shuo smirked over the phone. “What’s this? You confessing?”

“…” Ming Shuzhen sent a death-glare emoji.

“Confess what? To who? I just got extra cash I want to spend.”

“Hiss, someone’s excited,” Zhong Shuo teased with a sly emoji.

Ming Shuzhen rolled her eyes. “So, what do I get?”

“Buy a necklace or bracelet—pretty and reminds her of you when she wears it,” Zhong Shuo said seriously.

*Reminds her of me.* Ming Shuzhen smiled.

Good idea.

But… Ming Shuyan’s usual accessories were luxury brands, costing tens of thousands.

She could afford light luxury, but didn’t want to gift a necklace or bracelet—too match-dependent, easily replaced.

A watch, though…

She knew Wu Yuanchu’s favorite light-luxury brand, Victoria Hyde—affordable, elegant.

Excited, she shared her idea with Zhong Shuo, got approval, and used her new foldable phone to find a mall with the brand’s store, rushing over.

—

A week later, Ming Shuyan returned.

Meilin told Ming Shuzhen that, nearing year-end, Ming Shuyan usually spent weeks at each location, handling everything before returning.

This time, she compressed her schedule and was back in a week.

Ming Shuzhen wondered why but didn’t ask Meilin directly.

At lunch break, she napped on the fifth floor, thinking before dozing, *What if I open my eyes and see Ming Shuyan?*

Her office was on the sixth floor, with a private lounge—she wouldn’t nap with employees.

But… they hadn’t seen each other in a week, only texting. Didn’t she miss her?

Ming Shuzhen pictured Ming Shuyan’s refined face, muttering, *Don’t you miss me?*

Or… did *she* miss her?

Want to see her?

…

Her body clock woke her at 3 p.m. She scanned the empty lounge, folded her blanket, and headed downstairs.

The company didn’t enforce break times. She’d rested since noon—bold, but Group Two was lax, some lazier than her, so she’d embraced it.

On the fourth floor, she found the group unusually busy, heads down at computers, screens showing real data or floor plans—not pretending.

She sauntered to her desk, whispering to Qian Duoduo, “You done resting so early?”

Didn’t they usually nap past 3, dawdling on phones?

Qian Duoduo glanced up, nodding backward.

Puzzled, Ming Shuzhen turned.

A slim figure with wavy hair, arms crossed, lips pursed, stared at her.

Realizing it was Ming Shuyan, she spun back, sat straight, and fumbled her computer on.

The company’s top-spec PCs booted fast.

She typed her password, opening a random floor plan.

“Is Group Two’s lunch break a bit long?” Ming Shuyan, witnessing it all, glanced at Meilin.

“Uh.” Meilin stood, sheepish. “Everyone’s efficient. Data work needs focus—rest helps.”

Ming Shuyan’s blank stare didn’t reveal if she bought the excuse.

Her peripheral vision caught the person in a light sweater. A week apart, the face wasn’t unfamiliar—maybe because she often browsed Ming Shuzhen’s Moments, revisiting the same photos.

“Move the year-end dinner to this week. Extend the Lunar New Year holiday,” Ming Shuyan told Meilin.

“Got it,” Meilin said, quick to act. “December reports early too? We’ll send them to your email.”

“Yeah.” Ming Shuyan’s gaze flicked to Ming Shuzhen, intentional or not, and left.

Once she was gone, everyone relaxed, slumping, dropping the work facade.

“Meilin-jie, do we need a set lunch break now?” Qian Duoduo asked reluctantly.

Meilin stayed silent. Unlike Group One, Group Two had light work. Better to rest than idle in the office.

Pocket Rice chimed in, “The boss didn’t say explicitly. Let’s pretend we didn’t get it.”

Meilin didn’t object, tacitly agreeing. Everyone relaxed—naps were safe.

“Alright, write your December reports. Send them to me by next week,” Meilin announced.

Ming Shuzhen nodded. Unlike last month, she’d done real work, especially on Qingyuan Book House—plenty to report.

But her mind wasn’t on it. Watching Ming Shuyan disappear into the elevator, she grabbed a gift box from her drawer.

Chasing after her now, she could still give it to the boss.

Clutching the box, she jogged to the elevator.

Ming Shuyan’s private elevator was instant, but she was on a call, still at the entrance.

Ming Shuzhen rushed over, relieved to see her, but her heart raced.

She didn’t want to give the gift here—colleagues might think she was bribing.

Ming Shuyan hung up, seeing Ming Shuzhen’s nervous look, clutching a box.

She frowned. “What’s up?”

“Uh.” Ming Shuzhen’s mood wavered at her deadpan expression.

She inched closer. “Boss, can we talk in your elevator?”

Her eyes sparkled, gazing up.

Big, dewy eyes and pink lips—Ming Shuyan’s frown softened. She nodded, forgetting to clarify it wasn’t *her* elevator, just for her convenience.

Inside, neither touched the panel. No floor selected, the elevator stayed put.

Ming Shuyan faced her, eyes expectant, waiting for her to speak.

Ming Shuzhen glanced at her, presenting the box with both hands. “Boss… a gift I picked for you.”

“Hm?” Ming Shuyan looked at her, then the box.

White, with the brand’s logo and name. Ming Shuzhen’s small hands gripped its sides.

Ming Shuyan searched her eyes for intent.

She took the box, smiling faintly. “What is it?”

“A watch.”

Noticing Ming Shuyan’s mood lift, Ming Shuzhen grew bolder. “Boss, were you upset earlier? You kept frowning.”

Ming Shuyan opened the box, retrieving the watch.

She didn’t answer. “Put it on me.”

Ming Shuzhen took it, and Ming Shuyan rolled up her sleeve, eyes fixed on her, not the watch.

The watch had a slim silver band with a diamond-studded face.

Ming Shuzhen eyed her delicate wrist, pale as lotus root.

Her hands trembled, brushing Ming Shuyan’s cool arm. She flinched, glancing up.

Ming Shuyan felt the touch, unmoving, her other hand subtly curling.

The watch’s cold metal took a moment to warm.

Then she addressed the earlier question. “The economy’s tough—housing inspections mean dealing with the government. You know, higher-ups…”

She rolled her eyes. “Sly folks.”

“Oh.” Ming Shuzhen hadn’t expected such candor—topics she assumed Ming Shuyan kept private. Yet she’d become her confidante so easily.

“So… any trouble? The company won’t go under, right?” *Please, no unemployment. Jobs are scarce.*

Ming Shuyan saw her panic, a smile flickering. “No, it won’t.”

“Trouble’s manageable. Just endless banquets, not regular business ones. You know, liquor’s poured into unmarked plastic bottles, dishes must be lavish yet meet regulations, and conversations—full of subtext…”

She smiled mid-sentence. “Am I too negative?”

Ming Shuzhen shook her head vigorously, then shook it again for emphasis.

“No negativity.” She looked earnestly, hoping her sincerity shone. “I think it’s great.”

“Hm?”

“No, I mean…” She caught her ambiguity, blushing. “You sharing this makes me feel… not like an outsider.”

“It feels nice,” she grinned goofily.

Ming Shuyan gazed at her, surprised by her own openness. In Ming Shuzhen’s presence, she could drop the boss facade, sharing petty emotions freely.

Like a majestic Tibetan mastiff, fierce on the plains, but nuzzling its owner at home, whining for affection.

She shook her wrist. “Thanks.”

Ming Shuzhen smiled shyly. “Heh, no biggie.”

“Um…” Ming Shuyan caught her slightly goofy grin, heart skipping, lashes fluttering.

She didn’t mind—found it cute.

“You…” She paused. “Leaving the elevator?”

“Oh, right!” Ming Shuzhen snapped back.

She glanced at her. “Boss…”

“Hm?” Ming Shuyan saw her hesitant expression, curious. “More to say?”

Ming Shuzhen bit her lip. “Boss…”