Jiang Xingzhou got to the office close to ten.
In the elevator he ran into a colleague from his floor, who nodded at him. He said nothing, just leaned against the elevator wall and watched the floor numbers tick up one by one.
He’d slept badly again. To be precise, he’d barely slept well for half a month. That dream came every few days, and each time he woke up drenched in sweat.
When the elevator arrived and the doors opened, his expression was already composed, no trace of fatigue on his face, though his gaze was a little cold.
The conference room was at the end of the corridor.
By the time he pushed the door open, it was already full.
The three team leads had brought their members, the projector was running, and a pile of printed design drafts lay scattered across the table.
“Jiang-ge’s here.”
“Jiang-ge.”
“Morning, Jiang-ge.”
He gave a grunt, pulled out a chair, sat down, set his phone face-down on the table, and looked at them. “Let’s begin.”
Team One’s lead stood up first. His surname was Zhou, and his name was Zhou Lei. Early thirties, did everything by the book, though sometimes he was a bit slow to catch on.
He clicked through a few slides with the remote, and several poster designs appeared on screen, mostly dark green paired with gold, the typeface a Song-style variant, the overall style leaning traditional Chinese.
Zhou Lei cleared his throat.
“Jiang-ge, the client’s brief this time called for emphasizing the brand’s sense of history, so our team went mainly with a traditional Chinese style direction. For the main palette we chose dark green and champagne gold, which reads calm and steady visually, and for the typeface we picked a Song-style variant, which looks more refined.”
“For the copy layout we prepared three options: first, a top-bottom structure; second, a left-right structure; third…”
“Hold on.”
Jiang Xingzhou didn’t look up, his finger swiping across his phone screen as if replying to a message.
The conference room went silent at once.
Zhou Lei stood there holding the remote, unsure whether to keep flipping slides.
Jiang Xingzhou set the phone down and glanced at the screen.
“Zhou Lei, let me ask you something.”
“Go ahead, Jiang-ge.”
“Tell me, what does this client’s brand actually sell?”
Zhou Lei froze for a moment.
“Tea.”
“Tea.” Jiang Xingzhou nodded. “Then take a look at your dark-green-and-gold yourself. What does it look like?”
Zhou Lei glanced back at the screen, then turned around, looking a bit lost.
“Jiang-ge, isn’t dark green with gold kind of upscale…”
“Upscale.” Jiang Xingzhou repeated the word, then picked up his water glass and took a sip. “You know what I thought the moment I saw this palette?”
“I thought of those fake-antique shops at tourist spots. Wooden plaque over the door, painted gold lettering, ‘a thousand years of heritage,’ ‘traditional craftsmanship,’ and you walk in and it’s all Yiwu wholesale.”
Someone on Team One couldn’t hold back a cough.
Zhou Lei’s face tightened.
“So Jiang-ge, you mean…”
“I mean this palette of yours isn’t steady, it’s tacky.” Jiang Xingzhou set the glass down. “That’s not how you do traditional Chinese style. You think adding some dark green and some gold makes it traditional Chinese style? Have you ever seen a serious tea brand use this palette?”
“Go look at the ones that actually sell. They use white backgrounds with blue-and-white patterns. Who told you ‘steady’ means pushing everything darker?”
Zhou Lei had no answer.
Jiang Xingzhou pointed at the screen.
“And this typeface. A Song-style variant? Look at these strokes yourself. The ends of every stroke curl up like flowers blooming.”
“Are we selling tea or Spring Festival couplets?”
“I was going to have someone swap the font…”
“Swap it? Have who swap it? Don’t you check it yourself?” Jiang Xingzhou’s tone barely changed, his pace unhurried, but every word landed squarely. “Zhou Lei, you’re the team lead. Whatever lands in your hands, you’re the last checkpoint.”
“You bring this to me, that means you think it passes? Do you think I’m blind, or are you?”
Nobody in the conference room dared speak; it was so quiet only the air conditioning could be heard.
Zhou Lei’s hand had gone stiff around the remote.
“Jiang-ge, I’ll rework it.”
“From scratch,” Jiang Xingzhou said. “Redo the color scheme, pick a new typeface. As for those three layout options, I didn’t like a single one, so don’t trot them out just to pad the count.”
Zhou Lei nodded, said nothing more, quickly set down the remote, and walked back to his seat.
Everyone on Team One kept their heads down, none of them daring to look at anyone else.
Jiang Xingzhou twirled his pen.
“Team Two.”
Team Two’s lead was Fang Qing, two years younger than Zhou Lei, but far more efficient.
When she stood, she was holding a stack of printouts; she walked over, handed one copy to Jiang Xingzhou, then returned to the screen and pulled up the first image.
Their team was handling a skincare brand’s packaging design, minimalist in direction, lots of white space, with a curve wrapping around the side of the bottle as the main visual.
Fang Qing spoke fast.
“Jiang-ge, our team produced four directions for this project. The first is the curve concept, emphasizing the product’s fluidity, with a matte bottle finish that reads clean visually.”
“The second is color-block segmentation, using different shades within one color family to build layers.”
“The third is type-led, with a custom design for the brand name’s lettering. The fourth is pattern-led, where we drew an original set of botanical motifs.”
She flipped through all four directions in turn, each option paired with renderings and mockups.
Jiang Xingzhou leafed through the printouts in his hand and stopped at the third direction.
“Who drew this typeface?”
Fang Qing glanced back.
“Little Chen did.”
A young man in glasses on Team Two’s side raised his hand.
Jiang Xingzhou looked at him, then back down at the lettering.
“This custom typeface of yours, the Latin letters are passable. How long did you spend on the Chinese characters?”
Little Chen stood up.
“About… three days.”
“Three days.” Jiang Xingzhou laid the printout on the table. “Look at what you churned out in three days. This character, the one meaning ‘moist,’ you made the three-dot water radical on the left so thin, then suddenly bolded the right-hand component, the whole visual balance is off.”
“Stand the bottle up and look, the character is crooked.”
Little Chen leaned in for a look, and his face changed.
“I… I didn’t notice when I was adjusting it…”
“Didn’t notice?” Jiang Xingzhou pushed the sheet in front of him. “Three days, and you tell me you didn’t notice? Then what were you doing for three days? Staring into space?”
Little Chen didn’t dare say another word.
Fang Qing stood to the side, biting her lip.
Jiang Xingzhou turned to her.
“Fang Qing, how are you running your team? He finishes and you don’t check it? A balance problem this obvious and you never spotted it?”
“I did check, I just thought at the time…”
“You thought it was fine?” Jiang Xingzhou cut her off. “Then your eyes are the problem too. The botanical motifs in the fourth direction, look at them yourself. Those leaves are drawn like chicken claws. Is there nobody on your team who can draw a plant?”
Fang Qing took a deep breath.
“The motifs were outsourced. We were short on time and didn’t get to refine them.”