The afternoon sunlight streamed through the building’s glass curtain wall, casting bright patches of light on Wen Yan’s desk, which was piled high with documents. Yet, it couldn’t dispel the heaviness etched between her brows.
On her computer screen was the draft proposal for the “Analysis of Corporate Investment Trends in the First Half of the Year.” Beside it lay several other program proposals that had been sent back by the director with demands for revisions.
Ever since her show, Financial Frontier, had been temporarily downgraded to a recap program, and she had vaguely sensed resources shifting toward Gu Weiwei’s new show, the pressure on Wen Yan’s shoulders had grown heavier by the day.
Not only did she have to maintain the quality and quantity of her daily live broadcasts and existing program work, but she also had to deal with Gu Weiwei’s frequent provocations and displays of superiority, both overt and subtle. On top of that, she had to guard against the uncomfortable “concern” and veiled pressure from the station director, Zhou Zhengming.
“Wen Yan,” Li Jie, her colleague at the neighboring workstation, leaned over and lowered her voice, her eyes filled with sympathy and a hint of helplessness. “I just heard from Xiao Wang in the planning department that Gu Weiwei’s In-Depth Dialogue has scheduled its first recording for next week. They’re using that 4K ultra-high-definition studio system we applied for ages ago but never got approved. The lighting and sound teams are also the station’s top-tier setups…”
Wen Yan’s fingers paused briefly over the keyboard before resuming their rhythm, though her gaze grew colder.
She didn’t speak, only nodding slightly to acknowledge the information.
Li Jie sighed. “Ah, some people are just born lucky. Wen Yan, don’t push yourself too hard. Some things… just can’t be forced.”
“I know. Thank you, Li Jie.”
Wen Yan forced a faint smile and turned her attention back to the data charts on her screen.
She knew Li Jie meant well, but the words “can’t be forced” felt like needles pricking her heart.
She refused to accept it. She had graduated from a prestigious university, and her professional skills were widely recognized. She had spent countless sleepless nights and produced countless solid research reports. Why should she accept that some things “can’t be forced”?
Just then, a waft of perfume drifted by.
Gu Weiwei strode over in her high heels, stopping beside Wen Yan with an air of smug satisfaction. Her gaze swept casually over Wen Yan’s computer screen, and a meaningful smile curled at the corner of her lips.
“Oh, is the great anchor Wen still struggling with these boring data charts?”
Gu Weiwei’s tone was light but carried an unmistakable sense of superiority. “If you ask me, making a show isn’t just about data. You need connections and resources to bring big names in front of the camera. Take our In-Depth Dialogue, for example. Our first guest is Chairman Li, a heavyweight in the internet industry. That kind of influence isn’t something you can match by just compiling data.”
She held a printed document in her hand and patted it lightly, as if brushing off nonexistent dust.
“Anchor Wen, I heard your Financial Frontier has been revamped? Well, it’s probably for the best. Doing in-depth interviews all the time must be exhausting. Switching to something lighter is a good idea. If you ever need help, just ask—though I might be quite busy myself, hehe.”
Without waiting for Wen Yan’s response, she swayed her hips and walked away with the air of a victor.
Wen Yan’s knuckles turned white as she gripped the mouse.
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and forced down the anger and humiliation churning in her chest.
Engaging in a war of words with Gu Weiwei was pointless—it would only make her look pathetic.
She opened her eyes again, her gaze clear and resolute.
She couldn’t be defeated, and she certainly wouldn’t give people like Gu Weiwei the satisfaction of laughing at her.
Even if the program was demoted, even if resources were snatched away, she was determined to execute her work to the utmost.
She threw herself back into the planning proposal, overturning the originally somewhat bland review approach and deciding to incorporate more controversial and forward-looking topic discussions.
She began frantically searching for the latest firsthand industry reports, contacting familiar industry analysts and low-profile senior insiders, hoping to uncover some exclusive perspectives and case studies.
At the same time, through connections established from previous interviews, she tactfully extended invitations to several economists who had initially expressed interest but had scheduling conflicts, inquiring whether it might be possible to conduct in-depth dialogues in future episodes.
Even if the chances were slim, she had to give it her all.
During a break from work, she rubbed her tired eyes and glanced at her phone screen.
That pure black WeChat profile picture remained silent, with no messages.
Since adding each other as friends after that blind date, aside from system notifications, there had been no communication.
Friday—this date loomed over her heart like a gradually approaching boulder.
Her marriage to Li Yanzhou felt like an unknown storm, about to completely alter the trajectory of her life.
And before that, she still had to navigate the familiar battlefield of the television station, fend off open and hidden attacks, and hold her ground.
In the afternoon, she was summoned to Zhou Zhengming’s office again.
“Wen Yan, have a seat.”
Zhou Zhengming smiled warmly and personally poured her a cup of tea.
“Last time, you mentioned taking leave to register your marriage. I’ve been thinking about it, and I’m still a bit concerned. You’re young and inexperienced in society—marriage is no trivial matter. What does he do? What’s his family background? Tell me, so I can help you vet him.”
His tone seemed caring, but his eyes held a probing and scrutinizing gaze.
Wen Yan inwardly scoffed but maintained a polite distance on the surface:
“Thank you for your concern, Director. He’s a good person, and our families have known each other for a long time.”
She was tight-lipped, never uttering the name “Li Yanzhou.”
Seeing her reluctance to share, Zhou Zhengming’s eyes flickered with displeasure, but he didn’t press further, merely offering a few more platitudes.
Leaving the director’s office, Wen Yan felt utterly exhausted, both physically and mentally.
The pressure at work, the interpersonal conflicts, and that imminent, complex marriage—everything felt like a net tightening around her.
Returning to her seat, she stared at the dense data and text on her computer screen and suddenly felt a sense of disorientation.
Once, she had believed that as long as she worked hard enough and was professional enough, she could establish herself in this industry and realize her dreams.
But now, she realized that these alone were far from sufficient.
You needed connections, relationships, and some “external leverage.”
And Li Yanzhou might just be that “external leverage.”
This realization left her with mixed emotions.
On one hand, she despised the helplessness of relying on marriage and a man to break through her predicament; on the other hand, the harsh reality forced her to admit that this might be the fastest and most effective way to escape her current struggles.
It wasn’t until Thursday night, just after Wen Yan finished showering and stepped out of the bathroom while drying her damp hair, that the phone on her bedside table lit up silently.
It was a WeChat message.
Li Yanzhou: “Tomorrow at 9 a.m., I’ll pick you up downstairs. License plate: Jing A·*****. Please send me your location.”
She stared at the words for a few seconds, her fingertip hovering over the screen.
Then, she opened location sharing and sent it over.
Almost the instant the location was successfully sent, a new message came from the other side.
“Additionally, please pack your necessary personal belongings tonight. After we register our marriage tomorrow, you will move in with me.”
Wen Yan paused in drying her hair.
Although she knew that marriage meant living together, when the specific instruction to “move” was laid out so clearly before her, she still felt caught off guard.
Wen Yan stood still. The warm, damp air brought from the bathroom gradually dissipated, leaving a slight chill on her skin.
She remained silent for a long time, her wet hair slowly cooling and clinging to her shoulders.
Then, she raised her fingers and typed a reply in the message box.
“Okay.”
No extra words, no emotion, just the briefest confirmation.
Send.
A green bubble popped up, appearing thin and compliant.
Li Yanzhou did not reply further; the conversation ended there.
Wen Yan put down her phone and walked to the window.
The night was deep. The streetlights in the residential garden below cast a dim, tranquil yellow glow, occasionally broken by the headlights of a late-returning car.
This was a place she had lived in for many years; every corner was so familiar it brought comfort.
And after tomorrow, she would leave here and move into a completely unfamiliar space belonging to another man.
She drew the curtains, shutting out the night outside.
Turning around, she surveyed her own little world.
The bookshelf was filled with professional books and award certificates, travel photos hung on the wall, soft cushions lay on the sofa, and vibrant green plants sat on the windowsill… Every item carried her scent and memories.
And now, she needed to “pack her necessary personal belongings.”
Wen Yan walked to the wardrobe and opened it.
She began mechanically selecting clothes, folding them, and placing them into the suitcase.
Then came cosmetics, skincare products, a few books she was currently reading, and work notes.
Her movements were orderly, but her gaze was somewhat vacant, as if she were tidying up something unrelated to herself.
Until she picked up a photo frame from the bedside table.
Inside was a photo taken with her parents and grandfather on her university graduation day, on campus.
Everyone was smiling so happily; her grandfather had his arm around her shoulder, his face full of pride.
Her fingertips brushed over the cold glass surface. Wen Yan’s eyes finally focused, a faint, almost imperceptible ripple stirring within them.
She hesitated for a moment, then carefully wrapped the photo frame and placed it in a compartment of the suitcase.
Then, she closed the suitcase lid with a soft “click,” like the end of a chapter.
She walked to the desk, opened her computer, and began organizing the list of work matters she needed to hand over tomorrow.
The station director had already approved her leave; work arrangements had to be clear and accurate.
The sound of her fingers tapping the keyboard was especially distinct in the quiet room, carrying an almost deliberate focus, attempting to mask the turmoil deep within.
Her phone lay quietly on the bedside table, not lighting up again.
After finishing her work, Wen Yan turned off the computer and lay down on the bed.
The clothes she would wear tomorrow were already ironed and hanging outside the wardrobe; a small suitcase stood in the corner.
Everything was ready.
She closed her eyes but felt no sleepiness.
Her mind recalled Li Yanzhou’s words: “We each get what we need.”
So be it.
Wen Yan turned over, burying her face in the pillow.
The next morning, as dawn broke, it was a clear, beautiful day.
Wen Yan woke up very early, having barely slept through the night.
She changed into the clothes she had prepared the night before—subdued in color, clean in lines, appropriate for a visit to the civil affairs bureau without being overly formal or too casual.
She applied light makeup and loosely tied her long hair at the back, revealing her smooth forehead and slender neck. She looked neat and proper, yet lacked the joy one would expect from a bride-to-be. Instead, she resembled a professional about to sign an important contract.
At 8:58 a.m., a sleek, all-black Maybach glided silently to a stop outside Wen Yan’s building.
At exactly 9 a.m., Wen Yan emerged, pulling her suitcase behind her.
As she stepped out of the building, the driver’s side door was pushed open from the inside.
A tall figure stepped out.
It was Li Yanzhou.
He wasn’t wearing a suit today but a high-quality dark gray cashmere sweater, layered with a coat of the same shade.
Though he lacked the sharp, businesslike edge of formal settings, he still stood tall and carried himself with an air of distinction.
The morning light fell on his well-defined face, and his deep eyes calmly met hers.
“Good morning,” she greeted him politely but distantly as she approached the car, her voice steady.
Li Yanzhou’s gaze lingered on her face for a moment before he nodded slightly in acknowledgment.
Then, his eyes shifted to the suitcase in her hand.
Li Yanzhou lifted her suitcase effortlessly, his movements smooth and efficient.
Watching his tall, straight-backed figure, Wen Yan felt a momentary daze.
Today, this man was acting like an ordinary boyfriend—picking her up and carrying her luggage.
“Get in,” he said, closing the trunk and opening the passenger door for her.
Wen Yan hesitated briefly.
Li Yanzhou rested his hand on the roof of the car, watching her quietly as he waited.
Wen Yan pressed her lips together and bent down to take the passenger seat.
As the door closed, the crisp scent of cedarwood mixed with a clean car fragrance enveloped her instantly.
It wasn’t a sweet or cloying smell but a cool, slightly woody freshness.
Li Yanzhou walked around to the driver’s side and settled in.
The engine started with a low, pleasant hum, and the car glided smoothly into the lane.