Chu Yiran bought a cup of instant noodles and two tea eggs at the convenience store downstairs from her apartment, standing in front of the microwave with an extremely complicated mood as she waited for it to heat up.
She wasn’t sure if the person in the elevator was Shen Yu.
After all, she didn’t even know what Shen Yu looked like.
The original host had only chatted with him online and had never met him in person. There were no photos of him saved on her phone.
The novel did have descriptions of his appearance, but those words didn’t match up with reality at all.
Tall and slender, with deep-set eyes and an air of nobility—who could recognize someone based on that?
In a high-end office building, tall men in suits were a dime a dozen.
She comforted herself, thinking that with so many people on the twenty-eighth floor, it might just be an ordinary project team member working late.
The noodles finished heating, and she carried them back to her apartment. Sitting on the sofa, she took a bite and hissed from the heat.
Her phone vibrated on the coffee table.
She put down her chopsticks and picked it up. It was a post from Song Qingwan on her social media feed.
A photo from a brand event showed Song Qingwan wearing a white haute couture gown, smiling in front of a massive flower wall.
The caption was just one word: boring.
The comments section was already flooded with praise and flattery.
Chu Yiran glanced at it for two seconds before exiting the feed.
She sent Song Qingwan a message: “Wanwan, you look stunning.”
This was the original host’s routine—flattery.
Song Qingwan replied instantly: “Obviously.”
Chu Yiran smiled and sent another message: “I haven’t been feeling well these past few days. I might need to rest a bit more and won’t be able to accompany you.”
Song Qingwan replied after a while: “Alright, take care of yourself. I’ve been quite busy lately too—there’s a lot going on with the Song family.”
Chu Yiran guessed what Song Qingwan meant by “a lot going on.”
The bidding for the Lingang New District project.
The Song and Shen groups had been openly and covertly competing for this piece of land for over half a year, and the rivalry had reached a fever pitch. As the only daughter of the Song family, Song Qingwan had been dragged into numerous social engagements.
Chu Yiran sighed quietly to herself.
Her current situation was like walking a tightrope, with a bottomless abyss beneath her. On one side was Shen Yu, on the other was Song Qingwan—she couldn’t afford to fall toward either.
After finishing her noodles and washing the dishes, she opened her laptop and continued researching publicly available information about the Shen Group.
She specifically searched for photos of Shen Yu.
There were plenty of reports about Shen Yu online, but very few photos.
Most were distant shots of him attending industry summits or charity galas—either side profiles or half-body shots, with no clear, full-face photos.
This man clearly avoided public exposure.
Chu Yiran zoomed in on a distant photo of him speaking at a forum, barely able to make out his silhouette.
He wore a black suit, was very tall, and had a sharply defined jawline.
Did it match the person in the elevator?
She really couldn’t tell.
In the end, she set a principle for herself: at the company, keep her head down whenever possible, take detours if needed, and absolutely avoid approaching anyone or any situation related to the senior management.
She turned over in bed and turned off the light to sleep.
On her second day of work, Sun Wanqing appeared in the office.
She reviewed the email Chu Yiran had sent the night before but offered no feedback.
During the morning meeting, she directly announced adjustments to the division of labor for the summit preparations.
“The venue proposal for the summit needs to be re-evaluated. There were issues with the previous supplier’s quote, so we’re scrapping it and starting over today.”
“Chu Yiran will be responsible for contacting the three alternative venue suppliers and submitting the new quotes to me.”
Chu Yiran was momentarily taken aback.
The issue with the 380,000 yuan rush fee she had discovered yesterday clearly wasn’t just a clerical error.
But Sun Wanqing’s approach was to start over from scratch rather than hold anyone accountable.
That was quite intriguing.
She didn’t ask further and returned to her workstation with the task list.
She spent the entire morning making phone calls.
There weren’t many venues in Hecheng capable of hosting large-scale business summits, and the pool of high-quality suppliers was limited to just a handful.
Chu Yiran called each one, and after mentioning the Shen Group, their attitudes would noticeably soften.
But politeness aside, their quotes were anything but lenient.
After obtaining quotes from three venue suppliers, Chu Yiran created a comparative table.
The cheapest one quoted 6.2 million yuan, the most expensive just over 9 million, and the middle one 7.5 million.
As soon as she sent the table to Sun Wanqing’s email, she was called into the office.
“Close the door.”
Chu Yiran shut the door behind her.
Sun Wanqing’s desk was spread with the table she had sent, marked with several red circles.
“Which one do you think is suitable?” Sun Wanqing suddenly asked.
The question caught Chu Yiran off guard. Asking a second-day entry-level assistant to choose a supplier?
But she didn’t hesitate, thinking for a few seconds before replying, “If we’re only looking at cost-effectiveness, the first one is the cheapest, but their venue lighting system malfunctioned last year and received complaints from several clients—it’s searchable online. The third one is the most expensive, but their reputation and performance record are the best.”
“The middle one is average in all aspects, not outstanding but without any major flaws.”
She paused, then added, “If it were up to me, I’d choose the third one.”
“There’s a reason for the higher price. The summit represents the Shen Group’s image, and any slip-up would come at a much greater cost.”
Sun Wanqing’s expression remained unchanged, but she set down the red pen.
“Alright, we’ll go with the third one, as you suggested.”
Chu Yiran acknowledged and turned to leave.
“Wait.”
Sun Wanqing stopped her.
She took a file from her drawer, placed it on the desk, and gently pushed it forward.
“This is the final batch of procurement records handled by the previous administrative specialist before leaving. Review them.”
“All supplier invoicing information and payment records must match. Report back to me.”
Chu Yiran took the file and flipped through it. It was thicker than yesterday’s, with numbers packed even more densely.
She resisted the urge to ask when it was due, because she already guessed the answer.
Sure enough, Sun Wanqing said, “Before the end of today.”
Chu Yiran carried the file back to her workstation, sank into her chair, and let out a deep sigh.
Lin Yuan leaned over from the neighboring desk and glanced at her. “More work?”
“Yeah.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
Lin Yuan adjusted his glasses, lowering his voice. “Actually, President Sun isn’t deliberately giving you a hard time. She treats all newcomers this way.”
“The faster you work, the more she gives you.”
“Those who can’t keep up leave on their own, saving her the trouble of firing them.”
Chu Yiran nodded.
She understood this management style.
Screening was more efficient than training, using intensity to weed out unsuitable candidates.
Not warm, but effective.
During lunch break, she hurriedly ate a few bites in the cafeteria, finishing in fifteen minutes before returning to her desk.
She spent the entire afternoon buried in procurement records.
At 3:30 p.m., she discovered issues again.
Not one, but three.
Three procurement entries had mismatched invoicing information and payment records.
The invoicing party was a company called Hengyuan Trading, but the payee name on the payment voucher was Hengyuan Business Consulting.
A single character difference—easy to miss if you weren’t paying close attention.
The three amounts added up to 720,000 yuan.
Chu Yiran double-checked four times. After confirming there were no mistakes, she picked up the documents and stood up.
She walked to Sun Wanqing’s office door and was about to knock when she suddenly heard voices inside.
It was Sun Wanqing’s voice, lower than usual.
“I know… I’ll handle this… Don’t rush me.”
Chu Yiran’s hand hovered in front of the door.
After pausing for two seconds, she withdrew her hand, turned around, and walked back to her desk. She wrote a brief written report detailing the issue she had discovered and sent it to Sun Wanqing’s email.
The subject line read: “Abnormalities Found in Procurement Records, Please Review.”
After sending it, she didn’t receive a reply.
Until the end of the workday, Sun Wanqing’s office door never opened again.
Chu Yiran packed her things, and as she stepped into the elevator, a vague thought lingered in her mind.
Was the reason the former affairs specialist left really just because they couldn’t handle the workload?
Inside the elevator, she lowered her head and glanced at her phone. Zhao Ling’s words during the interview echoed in her ears again.
“The deputy director hasn’t been in a great mood lately.”
It wasn’t just a bad mood.
Something was weighing on her.
As she walked out of the building, Chu Yiran’s phone screen suddenly lit up.
It was a text message from an unfamiliar number.
“Miss Chu, I suggest you withdraw that email you sent.”