It’s fine; it’s no big deal.
After all, everyone is an independent individual, a self-contained circle. He and Lin Sangyu were merely intersecting arcs in each other’s lives; she still had plenty of blank spaces and a future yet to be filled in.
He shouldn’t overstep his bounds.
That’s right—it’s fine.
Jiang Wenzhe let his thoughts churn as droplets of water condensed on the side of his glass. Sip after sip of unsweetened Americano slid down his throat and into his chest, leaving a heavy, bitter aftertaste.
[Mr. Jiang, Miss Lin went to one of the establishments under your company and has already been hired.]
[Image jpg.]
[Image jpg.]
Jiang Wenzhe clicked on the files with a blank expression and saved them one by one.
In the photos, two girls were smiling brightly as they stood close together. In one of the photos, the other girl was bent over, clicking the mouse on the front desk computer; she turned her head as if she were saying something to Lin Sangyu beside her—she must have been teaching her how to use the computer.
Lin Sangyu stood nearby, her bright eyes sparkling as she listened intently.
Jiang Wenzhe: [Did she apply for a front desk position?]
Personal Bodyguard replied instantly: [It appears so.]
That’s not bad—at least it’s better than washing dishes.
Bodyguard: [Should I inform the manager?]
Jiang Wenzhe: [No need. Don’t get involved.]
*
Zhao Ran winked at Lin Sangyu: “Got it?”
Lin Sangyu looked at Zhao Ran gratefully, her heart fluttering with excitement: “I got it, I got it—I totally get it. I’ll finally be able to use a computer too.”
“I’m the greatest teacher around, after all,” Zhao Ran said, half-jokingly. “Just stick with me from now on—I’ll teach you step by step.”
No sooner had she finished speaking—a crowd of six or seven people poured into the lobby entrance. They were armed with long guns and rifles; despite the sweltering heat and the heavy load they carried, their thin shirts had become slightly transparent with sweat.
The air conditioning in the hotel lobby was strong, and the group’s expressions gradually shifted from irritation to relaxation. One of them, a young man in a light blue shirt, stepped out of the group and walked up to the front desk, his voice clear and cheerful: “Hello, I’m here for the hotel reservation photo shoot. Here’s my ID.”
“Okay, okay,” Zhao Ran said after taking the ID to verify it. She then turned to Lin Sangyu and said, “You take them up. It’s on the same floor where you just checked in.”
Lin Sangyu wasn’t entirely sure and, afraid of making a mistake, asked, “Where exactly is it?”
“Just that floor—they’re here to take photos, so there’s no specific spot,” Zhao Ran explained. “The thing is, a few major clients are coming in a bit. I can’t leave the front desk, and I’m worried you might not be able to handle that group on your own.”
And just like that, Lin Sangyu officially started her very first job.
“Hey, young lady, you’re new here, aren’t you?” The young man noticed Lin Sangyu’s nervousness and struck up a conversation. “You don’t seem very familiar with the job yet.”
“Yes, I just started,” Lin Sangyu hesitated for a moment before asking, “Could you explain what you meant by ‘exploration photoshoot’ earlier?”
“It’s just taking some footage for your hotel to post online for promotion.”
Lin Sangyu paused for a moment, then asked abruptly, “Does this pay well?”
The young man gave a sheepish chuckle. “It depends on your skills. Our team is considered one of the better ones in the industry—otherwise, we wouldn’t have been hired to shoot a promotional video for Jinglan Huaxi.”
Upon hearing this, Lin Sangyu fell deep in thought.
When people see something beautiful, their mood can’t help but lift. Noticing Lin Sangyu’s long eyelashes fluttering as she pondered, the young man kept the conversation going: “What? Do you want to get into this line of work too?”
“No, no—I haven’t studied it, and I feel like photography requires a certain natural aesthetic sense.”
“That’s certainly true,” the young man replied, making the comment without trying to sugarcoat it. “But you’re so good-looking and young—you should try out other careers too, not just limit yourself to what’s right in front of you.”
That last remark came straight from the heart.
“But… but I don’t know what I could do.”
Human society places the highest value on academic credentials, and aside from being able to read and write, she was practically good for nothing.
Apart from low-level service jobs, she really had no idea what else she could do.
She didn’t belong in this world, but she had to force herself to fit in.
“You could get into the internet business—you’re clearly cut out for it,” the young man said without hesitation. “Besides our filming income, our team’s biggest source of revenue comes from the internet. We post our videos online and take on small ads; a lot of the time, we make more money that way than from our main line of work.”
Not far away, another guy from the group shouted over to Lin Sangyu and Yu Cheng: “Yu Cheng, don’t just stop in your tracks every time you see a pretty girl—come help set up the tripod!”
“Oh well, I’ll have to go now. Maybe we’ll meet again someday.”
Flirting is one thing, but working hard and making money is what really matters.
Yu Cheng finally left with one last piece of advice: “If you want to get into the online business, you’ve got to figure out your strengths. A lot of niches are saturated these days. Think about what sets you apart—what others don’t have that you do, or where you excel over them,” before hurrying off.
Lin Sangyu stood rooted to the spot for a long time, like a candle that had melted, dried in the wind, and been nailed to the ground.
Before her, the group began working in their respective areas of expertise with clear divisions of labor. Amid their joking and banter, camera flashes flickered before her eyes with a series of clicks, stinging Lin Sangyu’s eyes.
Her thoughts, too, were pulled into another world.
*
As soon as work ended at noon, Zhao Ran couldn’t wait to drag Lin Sangyu toward the restaurant: “Let me tell you, we employees can also eat at the buffet restaurant where the guests dine. Come on, come on, let’s hurry up, or the good stuff will be gone—some items are limited in quantity.”
“Is it free?”
Although Jiang Wenzhe had linked his credit card to her phone and told her she could use it freely,
but how much money could a bankrupt person really have?
At a hotel of this caliber, the card would probably get maxed out.
“Of course! This is a staff perk,” Zhao Ran said. As they reached the restaurant entrance, she suddenly stopped, crossed one arm over her chest and spread the other wide in a gesture of invitation. “Come on, I’ll show you what a seven-star buffet is all about.”
The entire dining area was adorned with understated, luxurious natural wood and matte metal, while row upon row of transparent floor-to-ceiling windows shone as brightly as mirrors. Looking down, the elegant and stately hotel garden up close and the rushing Yangtze River in the distance were all within view.
Of course, none of that was the most important thing. What mattered most was that, amid the dazzling array of delicacies from land and sea, Lin Sangyu immediately spotted what she loved most: fried bugs!
She grabbed her tongs and started piling them onto her plate. Zhao Ran, standing right next to her, was completely dumbfounded, her mouth involuntarily forming an “O”: “I… my goodness, there’s actually someone who really loves eating these little bugs.”
“Hm?” Lin Sangyu finally finished loading her plate, piling the various insects into a small mountain. “These little bugs are delicious—would you like some?”
With that, Lin Sangyu actually picked up another handful of little bugs, intending to place them on Zhao Ran’s plate.
Seeing this, Zhao Ran immediately pulled her plate back and waved her hands frantically, saying, “I’m not worthy, I’m not worthy.”
I’m devastated. The girl I absolutely adored at first sight—how could she possibly enjoy eating such weird stuff?
God only knows how bizarre it looked just now: Lin Sangyu, with that cute little face of hers, reaching toward Zhao Ran with a handful of black, creepy-crawly bugs.
Oh well, oh well. I’ll respect other people’s dietary preferences.
Zhao Ran added, “Everyone has different tastes. I’m not really into this kind of thing.”
Lin Sangyu put the insect back on the plate and said with a sigh, “Well, Jiang Wenzhe doesn’t like this kind of thing either.”
As soon as she said it, she suddenly realized that Zhao Ran had no way of knowing who Jiang Wenzhe was, so she immediately clammed up.
But Zhao Ran had clearly picked up on the key information: “Which Jiang Wenzhe?”
“Oh, oh, he… he’s… a good friend of mine.”
Right, just a good friend.
“Well, your friend has quite a lucky name—our top boss is also named Jiang Wenzhe.” Then, as if a thought occurred to her, Zhao Ran suddenly gave a mischievous chuckle and leaned in close to Lin Sangyu, saying, “He’s considered a leading figure in the capital’s business circles. At just twenty-four, he took over the Jiang Group with an iron fist, inheriting the family business—a classic example of an elite from a prominent family. Rumor has it he’s so strikingly handsome he could move heaven and earth and make demons weep, acts decisively, and exudes an imposing aura.”
The same world, the same name, and roughly the same path in the first half of their lives—both in business, yet one continues on a dazzling path to success while the other is already facing bankruptcy.
Lin Sangyu immediately felt a pang of sadness—for Jiang Wenzhe.
Still, she flattered him, saying, “ “He’s so impressive—he really has such good luck.”
“It’s more than just good luck—he seems like the kind of person who could win the lottery just by buying a ticket,” Zhao Ran said with a wry smile, the light in her beautiful eyes dimming. “Actually, I’m really quite jealous of people like that. If I’d been born into a good family, I could have finished my education and wouldn’t be working as a receptionist.”
The urban jungle under the neon lights has always been a feast for capital. The starting lines in this world are never on the same level.
Lin Sangyu empathized deeply, her expression exaggerated as she said, “Waaah, I totally get you.”
If only I’d always been a sugar glider—or if only I’d always been human.
“Oh, come on, let’s not talk about such sad things. My pretty baby, don’t make that sad face—you have to stay happy forever!” Zhao Ran pulled Lin Sangyu over to a two-seater by the window, and they sat down facing each other.
“Baby? I’m already twenty-four—I’m not a baby anymore.”
“‘Baby’ is just a term of endearment. Why do you act like you’re from the last century?” Zhao Ran explained. “A lot of people call each other that these days—not just girls among themselves, but guys and girls use it all the time, too.”
“Does calling someone ‘baby’ mean you’re close?”
“Not really. These days, the meaning of words depreciates faster than currency. I’ve just started using ‘baby’ to mean ‘you’re a decent person.’”
Lin Sangyu nodded, not quite sure she understood, then took another big bite of the bugs.
The plate was soon empty, so Lin Sangyu jogged back to the nearly deserted counter and brought another plate.
Zhao Ran sighed, “You really do love these. From now on, I might as well call you ‘King of Bugs.’”
“Sure.” Lin Sangyu, who never cared much for nicknames, kept her head down and ate voraciously—it had been ages since she’d been able to feast on bugs like this.
Fifteen minutes later.
Zhao Ran asked, “I’m done. Are you finished yet?”
“Mm, I’m almost done too.”
Lin Sangyu took her last bite, completely unaware of the gravity of the situation. She shot to her feet, her expression twisting for a split second.
“I’m so full—I think I’ve eaten way too much,” Lin Sangyu suddenly clutched her stomach. “I definitely wasn’t this full when I was sitting down just now.”
Zhao Ran asked with concern, “Did you eat too much?”
“Yeah, I feel really uncomfortable.”
“Let’s go. I have some digestive tablets; I’ll get them for you.”
Rubbing her stomach, Lin Sangyu followed Zhao Ran in small steps to a staff break room. There, Zhao Ran took her bag out of one of the small, lockable cubbies on the wall, found the digestive tablets inside, poured a cup of warm water, and handed it to Lin Sangyu.
Lin Sangyu obediently swallowed the pills with the water and said sincerely, “Thank you. You’re so kind—you’re the second person I’ve ever met who’s been this good to me.”
“Maybe it’s because we’re the same kind of people,” Zhao Ran blurted out almost without thinking, and even she froze for a few seconds after saying it.
“What do you mean, ‘the same kind of people’?”
Zhao Ran’s fingers, clutching the medicine box, curled uncontrollably. The plastic seal and the outer paper box twisted together in her hand, emitting a harsh, grating sound. She gave a wry smile and said, “We’re both the kind of people who eat until we’re stuffed at a free buffet.”
Though the words were abstract, Lin Sangyu felt she understood them, because right now, her heart was aching dully.
Yet the digestive tablet on her tongue had a faintly sweet taste, and the warm water soothed her stomach.
“Could I have another digestive tablet, please?”
This pill is so sweet—I wonder if Jiang Wenzhe has ever tried one. She wanted to take it home so Jiang Wenzhe could try it too.
Author’s Note:
Xiao Yu is starting her career!