On Monday morning, the air inside the Xijing Television building was filled with the usual hustle and bustle of the workweek.
Wen Yan walked into the office right on time, forcing the heavy and complicated emotions brought on by her hastily arranged engagement deep down, her face returning to its usual calm composure.
She had just settled into her workstation and hadn’t even had a chance to turn on her computer when a strong scent of perfume drifted over, accompanied by deliberately loud, boastful laughter.
“Hey, has everyone heard? The host selection for the new high-end financial interview program the station is preparing, ‘In-Depth Dialogue,’ seems to be pretty much decided.”
Gu Weiwei held a freshly brewed cup of coffee. Instead of walking directly over to Wen Yan, she stood not far away, speaking just loud enough for half the office area to hear. Her gaze, however, swept mockingly in Wen Yan’s direction.
Several colleagues who usually got along well with her immediately gathered around, playing along: “Decided? Who is it? Sister Weiwei, is it you?”
Gu Weiwei pretended to be reserved, taking a sip of her coffee, her chin slightly raised, the smugness in her eyes almost overflowing:
“Oh, it hasn’t been officially announced yet, but… it’s pretty much a done deal. After all, the resources and connections this program requires aren’t something you can get just by burying your head in writing scripts.”
Her words carried a pointed meaning, her gaze sweeping over Wen Yan again. “Some people are just too rigid, don’t know how to adapt, and can’t seize opportunities even when they come.”
The targeting in her words was unmistakable. Everyone around understood, their eyes flickering intentionally or unintentionally between Wen Yan and Gu Weiwei, tinged with the excitement of watching a drama unfold.
In the past, hearing that the program had been snatched away by Gu Weiwei would have inevitably left Wen Yan feeling stifled and angry, and she might have even retorted with a few cold words.
But today, she didn’t.
She didn’t even look up at Gu Weiwei, calmly turning on her computer and logging into the system as if she hadn’t heard the discussion at all.
Only when Gu Weiwei’s provocative gaze felt almost tangible, like nails boring into her, did Wen Yan slowly lift her eyes, meeting it with a calm expression. The corners of her lips even curled into a faint, almost polite smile.
“Congratulations, Anchor Gu.” Her voice wasn’t loud, but it was clear and steady, betraying no emotional fluctuation. “The new program carries great responsibility. I look forward to your brilliant performance.”
This calm, almost dismissive attitude left Gu Weiwei feeling like she had punched cotton. The follow-up sarcasm she had prepared got stuck in her throat.
Wen Yan’s gaze was too steady, her smile too faint. That inner composure made Gu Weiwei feel extremely uncomfortable, as if the drama she had carefully prepared wasn’t even worth the other person’s effort to engage with.
Her expression changed slightly, and she snorted coldly, “Naturally.”
Then she turned on her heel and walked back to her own seat, though she felt inexplicably uneasy and dissatisfied inside.
Wen Yan withdrew her gaze and paid no further attention.
She quickly handled a few urgent emails, then picked up the leave request form she had prepared earlier, stood up, and walked toward the office of the station director, Zhou Zhengming.
She knocked, and upon receiving permission, Wen Yan pushed the door open and entered.
Zhou Zhengming was reading a report. Seeing it was her, his face immediately broke into a smile, his eyes holding the usual kind of scrutiny and over-familiarity that always made Wen Yan uncomfortable:
“Wen Yan! Come in, come in, have a seat! What brings you here so early?”
Wen Yan did not sit. Instead, she directly placed the leave request form on Zhou Zhengming’s desk.
“Director, I’d like to request a day off this Friday,” she said calmly, getting straight to the point.
Zhou Zhengming picked up the leave request form and glanced at it, raising an eyebrow slightly. “Friday? Any important plans? I recall you have a program recording scheduled for that afternoon…”
“Yes, the originally scheduled recording may need to be rescheduled, or perhaps another colleague could temporarily take over.”
Wen Yan’s tone remained steady. “On Friday, I have some important personal matters that must be taken care of.”
“Important personal matters?” Zhou Zhengming set down the leave request form, leaned back in his chair, adjusted his glasses, and fixed his gaze on Wen Yan’s face with a probing, superior scrutiny. “Is it something at home?”
His tone carried concern, but Wen Yan could detect the underlying probing.
Zhou Zhengming had harbored those kinds of thoughts about her for quite some time now. He would occasionally drop hints under the guise of work, even using program resources or performance evaluation opportunities to pressure or entice her, hoping she would “be more understanding.”
Wen Yan had always pretended not to notice, skillfully maneuvering around him, never giving him any real leverage or hope. However, because of this, she had often suffered subtle disadvantages in resource allocation.
Now, seeing him prying into her personal affairs like this, Wen Yan felt a cold sneer inside, though her expression remained appropriately composed.
“It’s not about family matters.” She paused, as if carefully choosing her words, then said clearly, “It’s a personal matter. On Friday, I’m going to the Civil Affairs Bureau to register my marriage.”
“Marriage registration?!” The smile on Zhou Zhengming’s face instantly froze. He leaned forward subconsciously, his eyes wide with utter shock and disbelief. “Wen Yan, you… you must be joking, right? When did you get a boyfriend? How come I didn’t know anything about it? Didn’t you say before… that you were single?”
His shock was genuine. In his perception, Wen Yan was a beautiful, capable, somewhat aloof subordinate who seemed to have no interest in romantic relationships.
He had once thought she was putting on airs or had overly high standards, and he had planned to wear her down slowly, believing he would eventually find an opportunity.
How could she suddenly be getting married?! Without even a hint of it beforehand!
Watching his loss of composure, Wen Yan felt a fleeting sense of icy satisfaction.
Of course, she wouldn’t tell him that the person she was marrying was Li Yanzhou.
Before everything was settled, she didn’t want any complications, nor did she want someone like Zhou Zhengming to have a chance to make a fuss about it or try to curry favor with Li Yanzhou, which would only be disgusting.
“Matters of the heart are rather private, so I didn’t mention it before.”
Wen Yan’s tone was distant yet polite. “The date has already been set and cannot be changed. So, regarding work matters, I’ll need the station to help coordinate.”
Zhou Zhengming opened his mouth, wanting to ask more—like who the other person was and what they did—but seeing Wen Yan’s expression, which clearly indicated she had no intention of discussing further and was treating it strictly as business, he swallowed his words.
His heart felt as if a bottle of mixed emotions had been overturned—shock, unwillingness, disappointment, and a touch of anger at being kept in the dark.
But he quickly adjusted his expression. After all, having been in the official circles for a long time, he forced a smile back onto his face, though it was somewhat stiff.
“This… this is a joyous occasion… Wen Yan, congratulations! I truly never expected it… you kept this secret so well… The leave is no problem, I approve it.”
“Thank you, Director.” Wen Yan gave a slight bow. “If there’s nothing else, I won’t disturb you further.”
“Alright, you may go.”
Wen Yan stepped out of the director’s office and gently closed the door behind her.
She straightened her posture and walked back to her workstation.
The lights of the Finance Channel’s midday live broadcast studio shone on Wen Yan’s face—bright but not harsh.
Seated behind the anchor desk, her posture upright, she faced the camera, speaking at a steady and clear pace as she delivered a news flash about the latest monetary policy adjustments.
The text on the teleprompter scrolled rapidly, but her gaze did not rely entirely on it. From time to time, she would look directly into the camera, adding appropriate emphasis or pauses.
Her voice was clear and resonant, her articulation precise, and even when reporting specialized content, it carried a convincing calmness.
This was the professional polish she had honed day after day.
As the broadcast ended and the lights dimmed, she let out a soft sigh of relief, removed her earpiece, and nodded toward the director’s booth.
“Anchor Wen, your delivery was excellent! You managed to articulate so many complex professional terms clearly and smoothly!” A young assistant editor hurried over, handing her a cup of warm water, admiration evident in her tone.
“Thank you. It’s all thanks to daily accumulation and hard work.” Wen Yan accepted the cup, taking a small sip, her demeanor humble.
She never took credit for herself and maintained respect for everyone on the team, which earned her a good reputation among her colleagues.
Back in the office area, a stack of pending manuscripts and several program proposals requiring her signature were already piled on her desk.
As a key anchor for the Finance Channel, she was not only responsible for daily news broadcasts but also involved in planning several column programs, making her workload intense.
She had just sat down, barely catching her breath, when the internal phone rang—it was the channel director.
“Wen Yan, come to my office. There are some adjustments regarding next week’s special episode of ‘Finance Frontier’ that we need to discuss.”
“Understood, Director. I’ll be right there.”
Wen Yan picked up her notebook and pen and walked briskly toward the director’s office.
‘Finance Frontier’ was the most important program she currently oversaw, featuring in-depth interviews with heavyweight economists or entrepreneurs each episode.
The program had a strong reputation, but Wen Yan also faced immense pressure, as guests were difficult to secure, and topics needed to be highly forward-looking and profound.
The director’s office was filled with a haze of smoke.
The director was a shrewd and capable man in his fifties, though somewhat bureaucratic in demeanor.
He motioned for Wen Yan to sit and got straight to the point: “Wen Yan, for next week’s ‘Finance Frontier,’ we originally scheduled an exclusive interview with Mr. Zhang from Hongjing Capital, but he has an important meeting at the last minute and can’t make it.”
Wen Yan’s heart sank.
Mr. Zhang was a heavyweight in the industry. Securing him had required tremendous effort, and significant time had been invested in content planning.
“So… what’s the backup plan?” she asked, maintaining her composure.
The director flicked ash from his cigarette and sighed. “Time is too tight. We can’t find a guest of the same caliber on such short notice. The station has decided to change next week’s episode to a retrospective review. The theme will be ‘Analysis of Corporate Investment Trends in the First Half of the Year.’ Please prepare the script and materials as soon as possible.”
Transitioning from an in-depth exclusive interview to a compiled-data review program represented a drastic difference in weight and influence.
This was not merely an adjustment in workload but a signal of downgraded resources for the program.
Wen Yan could almost guess the reason—Gu Weiwei’s new program “In-Depth Dialogue” was in full swing of preparation, and the station’s best resources and guest connections were likely all being funneled her way.
“Director, ‘Financial Frontier’ has always been the channel’s flagship program. Suddenly turning it into a year-end review show, wouldn’t that…” she tried to argue.
“This is the station’s comprehensive decision.”
The director cut her off, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “Wen Yan, you’re a seasoned host. You should understand the station’s arrangements. A year-end review show can also be done brilliantly—your abilities are undeniable.”
At this point, Wen Yan knew further argument would be futile.
She pressed her lips together and nodded. “I understand. I’ll prepare as soon as possible.”
Leaving the director’s office, Wen Yan felt a tightness in her chest.
This wasn’t the first time. Ever since Gu Weiwei had parachuted in, waving the banner of “the station head’s niece,” despite her mediocre professional skills, she effortlessly secured the best time slots, the latest equipment, and the highest-quality guest resources.
Meanwhile, the program Wen Yan had worked hard to maintain was gradually being eroded and squeezed out.
Returning to her desk, before she could even process this bad news, she heard a burst of coquettish laughter from Gu Weiwei’s direction not far away.
“Oh, I’ve already made arrangements with Chairman Li! He’ll be the first guest on ‘In-Depth Dialogue’! Yes, that very benchmark figure of the internet new elite! As for the venue, we’ll use the station’s newly renovated top-tier studio, with the best equipment! The station head said this program is the future face of our channel—it has to make a splash from the start!”
Gu Weiwei’s voice wasn’t loud, but it carried clearly, tinged with undisguised pride.
A few sycophantic colleagues nearby chimed in with admiring exclamations.
Wen Yan’s fingers tightened slightly around her pen.
Chairman Li was precisely the highly sought-after figure she had repeatedly tried—and failed—to invite for “Financial Frontier.”
Now, he had become the inaugural guest for Gu Weiwei’s new program.
Professional skill and years of accumulated experience seemed so powerless in the face of connections and background.
She took a deep breath, forcing herself to refocus on the computer screen.
It didn’t matter. A year-end review show it would be. Wen Yan could still bring innovation and substance to a year-end review.
She opened the database and began searching for relevant reports, industry data, expert opinions…
Her fingers flew across the keyboard, her gaze focused and bright.
Setbacks and suppression might hinder her temporarily, but they couldn’t extinguish her dedication and pursuit of her profession.
She would prove her worth with solid content and impeccable performance.