Meng Xinghui leaned heavily on the mop, wiping away a large bead of sweat from his forehead. The floor was spotless, gleaming as if new, without a single speck of dust. People passing by praised him one after another: “Little Meng is impressive,” “Little Meng is so hardworking,” “He’s always ready to help.”
The corners of Meng Xinghui’s mouth drooped. He dragged the mop aside to let employees pass, then retreated alone into the restroom. He turned on the faucet, and water rushed out to rinse the mop.
He opened his phone to a flood of messages from Li Li.
Li Li: How’s your first day at the company?
Li Li: Those white-collar jobs must be so easy and relaxed, right? You can even chat and slack off sometimes.
Li Li: Bro, you there? Sigh, looks like you’re busy. Keep grinding, bro.
Meng Xinghui read the messages with difficulty and slowly replied.
Meng Xinghui: It’s pretty good. The colleagues and managers are all very nice to me. But I’m still new, so there’s no real work for me to take over yet.
His gaze was fixed on the jade in his hands, his eyelashes casting soft shadows over his eyes. Charcoal lines traced the surface of the mutton-fat white jade. Water flowed gently, washing away the dust, while the polisher buzzed, its vibration guiding the tool along the drawn lines. As the lines were carved, the jade gradually revealed its tender, lustrous white, and the image of a white rabbit clutching a carrot emerged. His fingertips lingered on the smooth surface for a long moment.
Click.
The sound of Meng Xinghui’s door opening echoed through the hall, followed by a muffled groan as he stumbled, his knee knocking against something.
Shen Qiu’s brow furrowed. He pushed open his own door and found Meng Xinghui leaning against the wall, clutching his knee in pain. The man looked utterly exhausted, dark circles bruising the skin beneath his eyes.
Suddenly, Meng Xinghui’s door swung open further. He startled, quickly scrambling to his feet, desperate to hide his disheveled state from Shen Qiu. A forced smile touched his lips. “You’re still awake? I thought you’d be asleep by now.”
Shen Qiu’s expression darkened. “Why are you working overtime this late?”
Meng Xinghui’s almond-shaped eyes darted away. “A client is coming tomorrow, so I had to stay late. But don’t worry, once this busy period is over, I’ll definitely come home on time and cook for you. I’m sorry.”
The whirlpool in Shen Qiu’s eyes inexplicably radiated a sense of grievance, just like his owner. Especially with the heavy dark circles under his eyes, Meng Xinghui had been working for two weeks, and at first, he just came home a little late, but now it was already in the early morning hours. Yesterday, he arrived home at 2:44 in the morning.
“Why are you, a newcomer, working overtime?” Shen Qiu suddenly complained, his words sharp.
Meng Xinghui closed his eyes and argued stubbornly, “I’m a newcomer, so I have to work hard. I’m still on probation, unlike you, Mr. President, who was directly appointed. Not like us little nobodies, who can only do odd jobs.”
“Is someone bullying you?” Shen Qiu’s lowered hand wanted to brush past Meng Xinghui’s eyes.
His nose was a bit choked up, and Meng Xinghui said a soft “no,” and quickly closed the door.
With Meng Xinghui’s door tightly shut, Shen Qiu felt a bit confused.
System 003 was eating melons: “Holy cow, the little white flower must have been wronged. It must be that you stuffed him in there, and someone looked down on him and bullied him.”
Shen Qiu pressed his temples, “Is he throwing a temper tantrum with me?”
System 003 rolled its eyes: “Are you blind? Is there still a need to hesitate!”
Sometimes, he really wanted to replace this foul-mouthed System.
The printer hummed and vibrated, spitting out sheets of A4 paper one by one. He stacked them on the empty desk in order of page number.
“Here, I need these for tomorrow’s meeting. Make 30 copies. And remember to get to the office by 8:30 tomorrow morning.” A man handed him a promotional brochure to be copied.
Meng Xinghui had read up on a lot of workplace skills and was prepared for this. “Sorry, sir, I still have materials from our department to print. I won’t have time to do yours. Why don’t you print them yourself?”
“When I tell you to print, you print! You get paid so much, yet you have no degree or qualifications. What else can you do besides printing? Come in early tomorrow and make sure the tea and water are ready.” The man was annoyed with the new employee. Why does he get paid more than me? Why is his job so much easier? All he does is pour water and other mindless tasks.
After that tirade, Meng Xinghui took the brochure with a blank expression. Soon after, other colleagues began to approach him.
“Xinghui, my boyfriend is taking me out today, so could you please print 50 copies of this poster for me?”
“Um, Meng, I have a code that needs to run for a long time, and something came up at home, so I have to head back. Could you keep an eye on it for me?”
“Star Lin’s scandal is still trending. We can’t let her boyfriend cause a scene. Keep an eye on it for me—if anything blows up online, call me immediately!”
Meng Xinghui’s heart sank, suffocating in silence.
In the dimly lit office, only a single lamp remained lit as the printer hummed, its surface hot to the touch.
Whirrr—
Meng Xinghui glanced at the empty desk in the distance, his eyes downcast with sadness. Cheer up. Keep trying. I have to push through this. Once I’m experienced enough, I’ll be assigned my own projects. I can’t let Shen Qiu down.
He turned back to his work, binding the documents into neat booklets and carefully attaching sticky notes to label each one.
The full moon shone brightly, its light shifting behind drifting clouds.
The elevator doors slid open, and a striking figure stepped out, heading toward the office. The sound of leather shoes drawing closer echoed through the space.
Meng Xinghui turned, his heart leaping in his chest.
A man emerged from the shadows, the dim light illuminating his face. His brows were sharp, his gaze piercing, and his stature tall and commanding. He wore a black trench coat left open, revealing the subtle pinstripes of a dark suit beneath. The sapphire cufflinks at his wrists glinted faintly.
Shen Qiu raised an eyebrow, his thin, pale lips parting slightly as he glanced over the stacks of documents. “You were mistreated. Why didn’t you tell me?” He had instructed the company to take good care of Meng Xinghui, never imagining they would turn on him so quickly.
The manager had assured him Meng Xinghui was being well cared for. So this was their idea of care.
Meng Xinghui turned his head away, holding his breath as he printed the materials. “They didn’t bully me.”
“You’re the only idiot in the entire company working overtime. Are you sure you weren’t mistreated?” Shen Qiu pierced through Meng Xinghui’s fragile facade, closing the distance between them.
Meng Xinghui took a sharp breath, fighting to keep his thoughts in check. “No.” He squeezed his fingertips tight, and the stapler clicked down hard.
“If you—came here out of the goodness of your heart to see me, you’ve seen enough. You should go back now.” Meng Xinghui kept his eyes averted, terrified that a single tear would spill over at any moment.
Shen Qiu sighed. “I didn’t come to see you. I came to see my little crybaby. How can you be so foolish? Don’t you know you can call me? You’re holding a trump card and not playing it. Are you trying to overturn the whole game at the very end? Go on, rest.” His long-fingered hands took over the paperwork with methodical precision, as if he were handling a piece of art.
Meng Xinghui’s eyes welled up. “I’m not a little crybaby,” he muttered, his lips pressed firmly together.
By the time Shen Qiu finished his work, Meng Xinghui was already sprawled in the chair, his arms hanging limply at his sides. His eyes were rimmed with red, streaked with tear stains. Since his unexpected hospitalization that day, Meng Xinghui had grown much paler, and his face had filled out a bit.
The oversized fluffy jacket he wore didn’t fit snugly, making him look small and fragile.
Shen Qiu took off his trench coat and draped it over Meng Xinghui before lifting him into his arms with a single hand. Meng Xinghui rested his head against Shen Qiu’s chest, his eyelashes lowered. Shen Qiu’s silhouette was sharp and commanding, yet his footsteps were steady and silent, like a low-frequency sound wave, careful not to wake the sleeping man.
On the way back, Meng Xinghui’s eyelashes fluttered. The passing streetlights outside the car window reflected in his eyes. Shen Qiu was driving, the shifting light and shadow on his face accentuating his sharp, resolute profile.
Shen Qiu noticed Meng Xinghui had woken up through the rearview mirror. His voice was low and gentle. “You’re awake. I’ll go to work with you tomorrow.”
Meng Xinghui blinked his heavy eyelids, confused. “Don’t you still have over ten days of vacation left?”
“I’m going to back up my little crybaby,” Shen Qiu said, his thin lips parting slightly.