The phone rang. Seeing the caller ID, Gu Siqiao walked over to the office window to answer it. “Well, what a rare guest.”
“Gu Siqiao,” his older brother, Gu Sicheng, sounded thoroughly displeased over the line. “What’s the deal with the internal voting for the head of procurement election? They said I ranked dead last!”
“It means exactly what it says,” Gu Siqiao said, watching the bustling traffic outside the window.
“Bullshit!” Gu Sicheng cursed. “You were pulling strings behind my back!”
“Listen, procurement is an important gig, the election rules were set by Dad, and I can’t manipulate that many votes,” Gu Siqiao said.
“Isn’t it hilarious for you to bring Dad up now? You’re the one stripping Dad of his power, so why are you acting like a wolf in sheep’s clothing here?!”
“I’ll say it one more time—I don’t even need to move a finger to kick you to the curb,” Gu Siqiao said. “The voting results reflect the popular will.”
Gu Sicheng: “Still acting tough, huh? Fine.”
“Going to cry to Dad again?” Gu Siqiao shot back mockingly. “Go ahead, you fragile little boy who can only run to Papa crying his eyes out.”
“You dare say you haven’t been waiting for a chance to make a move these past two years? Just look at the family dinner the other night—Dad only asked you a couple of questions about Secretary Liu, and you threw a tantrum and walked out. What a temper you have!”
“Secretary Liu leaving can be considered escaping a life of misery, in a sense.”
“What?”
“Did you really think I didn’t know? When Secretary Liu was around, you ran outside my office every few days to flirt with her, shamelessly pestering a married woman for her WeChat,” Gu Siqiao sneered. “Don’t you fucking act all righteous and high-minded in front of me, Gu Sicheng. You’re just a dog in heat all year round.”
A sudden wave of noisy static filled the other end of the line—the sound of Gu Sicheng cursing up a storm.
“I’m laying it down right here today,” Gu Siqiao continued unhurriedly amid the barrage of curses. “I’ve hired a new secretary now, and once he takes this spot, he’s not leaving. And guess what? Because he is my high school classmate.”
“Weren’t you saying I was ousting rivals and expanding my own domain? Sorry, but I am choosing nepotism. I’ll wait and see what you can possibly do to me.”
He hung up the phone and casually blocked Gu Sicheng’s WeChat in one go.
Having done all this, Gu Siqiao raised his head, feeling utterly wonderful. Even the reinforced concrete CBD streetscape outside the window had become pleasing to the eye.
Gu Siqiao sat back down in his executive chair, spinning left and right in full circles, squinting his eyes as he replayed his flawless performance in the argument just now.
President Gu, oh President Gu, you really are a genius. The way you utterly crushed that scoundrel—it was insanely cool.
Knock, knock. Hearing the knock at the door, Gu Siqiao leisurely spun back around, tapping the armrest in high spirits. “Come in.”
*
However, very soon, Gu Siqiao was no longer feeling so joyful.
Xue Lou’s work performance could only be described as a complete mess.
Secretary Liu had completed the handover with Xue Lou, and Kang Shuai, who was away on a business trip, offered remote guidance, but it was still a drop in the bucket. Xue Lou clearly lacked any clerical or administrative work experience, making it impossible for him to hit the ground running.
Simply put, Xue Lou was stretched far too thin, making constant mistakes big and small. But that wasn’t even the worst part.
He lacked the judgment to prioritize tasks, instantly falling into a state of utter confusion whenever multiple assignments coincided. Every department head acted as if their matters were matters of life and death, while Gu Siqiao’s schedule was extremely precious; yet Xue Lou couldn’t distinguish who should be let in first to give a report.
He strictly enforced rules and regulations, which wasn’t wrong in itself, but his lack of experience left him unable to discern whom to accommodate or give a green light to. Frequently, because of unfamiliar faces, crucial business partners were turned away at the door by Xue Lou under the pretext of “having no prior appointment,” requiring Gu Siqiao to personally offer explanations and apologies to his partners afterward.
And so on… there were too many instances to count on one’s fingers.
The post Xue Lou took over wasn’t an ordinary secretarial role; he was the head of the entire secretarial team in the President’s Office. After hiring Xue Lou, Gu Siqiao had briefly calmed down and questioned whether placing a newcomer with zero experience in this position was somewhat inappropriate.
At the time, he comforted himself by thinking that even if Xue Lou hadn’t received a graduation diploma, he was still an exceptionally gifted top student—maybe he could manage.
Reality proved that he had to bear the cost of his own impulsive heat.
The ideal scenario he had envisioned—a “brilliant academic top scorer parachuting into a key confidential role, easily mastering everything with keen intelligence”—didn’t happen at all.
Yet the work at headquarters wouldn’t pause for Xue Lou alone to wait for him to grow.
In the beginning, Gu Siqiao would generously take over the burden.
However, after a week went by, he began to regret the big talk he had boasted right in front of Gu Sicheng.
At two in the afternoon, Gu Siqiao checked off an item on his schedule, picked up the landline receiver, dialed a number, and set it back down after two rings.
There was no response for half a minute. No need to guess—someone from the secretarial team must be looking for Xue Lou with an issue, and this academic god was currently tied up with work.
Only after a while did the landline ring back.
He answered, and a male voice with a slight echo came through: “Hello?”
“If you have time to call back, couldn’t you just walk in?” Gu Siqiao said helplessly.
A moment later, Xue Lou knocked and entered the office. His eyes flickered away, avoiding direct eye contact with Gu Siqiao.
Gu Siqiao: “Go through the OA system and reserve a meeting room. I’ll email you the attendee list.”
Xue Lou agreed. Still feeling uneasy, Gu Siqiao instructed, “Make sure all the equipment is tested and working—the projector and all that.”
Xue Lou didn’t move.
Gu Siqiao: “What are you standing there for?”
Xue Lou: “Is there nothing else?”
Gu Siqiao: “What else do you want?”
Only then did Xue Lou look at him, hesitating to speak before turning to leave.
Only now did Gu Siqiao process the unspoken message in the other’s gaze: Then why couldn’t you just say that over the phone?
His temples throbbed with a faint ache. Why did everything need to be taught… Was he, Gu Siqiao, a kindergarten teacher?
Half an hour later, Gu Siqiao took the elevator downstairs. From a distance, he heard rustling and hushed conversations coming from the meeting room—the kind of dialogue made when people were tense and anxious.
Gu Siqiao entered the room. There were about eight or nine people inside, including department heads who were attending, group leaders under the heads, and Xue Lou. Xue Lou was fiddling with the projector, while a group leader holding a thick stack of materials was distributing them seat by seat—clearly stepping in to distribute them for Xue Lou after seeing how overwhelmed he was.
“President Gu,” everyone stood up.
“What’s going on here?” Gu Siqiao walked over to the head seat reserved for him.
“There’s a slight issue with the projector,” Xue Lou said without looking up.
His voice was dry, a thin layer of sweat covered his forehead, the sleeves of his cheap white shirt were rolled up, and his work badge swung across his chest before he swept it behind his back.
He was clearly frantic.
“This thing just glitches sometimes,” someone tried to smooth things over. “Please wait a moment, President Gu. It’ll be fine once we restart the frozen machine.”
This wasn’t a major meeting, so Gu Siqiao didn’t have a retinue of secretaries and assistants trailing behind him.
Because of this, when encountering an unexpected glitch like this, no one helped; most people in the corporate world possessed an indifferent attitude of staying out of other people’s business.
Xue Lou clumsily repaired the machine. The light flickering on the screen was somewhat glaring; Gu Siqiao instinctively narrowed his eyes and lowered his eyelids. This micro-expression was caught by a manager: “Little Xue, hurry up! Everyone is waiting for you! These things should have been prepared well in advance.”
Xue Lou was so thoroughly overwhelmed that he couldn’t spare the attention to offer a single response. Gu Siqiao sat down without joining in the rushing or saying anything further.
“Let me do it, younger brother,” the group leader offered a gentle way out. “Let me try.”
Xue Lou let go. Gu Siqiao paid special attention to him and found that Xue Lou’s face showed no sign of discouragement, looking as composed as a robot.
The group leader took off her ladies’ watch and began slapping the projector with force. A distinctly ungraceful Thump! Thump! echoed through the meeting room…
After a dozen hits like this, the group leader restarted the projector, turning back to offer a smile to Xue Lou and Gu Siqiao: “All set.”
A faint ripple finally appeared on the robot’s face as Xue Lou wore an expression of having learned something new: “Thank you, Sister Zhao. I’ve learned how.”
Gu Siqiao waved his hand: “Find your seats, let’s begin.”
Xue Lou dragged a chair over to sit in the farthest corner. Gu Siqiao’s hand twirled his fountain pen before stopping, pointing the tip toward him: “Remember to take meeting minutes. Don’t miss any items.”
Xue Lou offered a quiet mm, opening his notebook.
Looking at Xue Lou’s meek, submissive demeanor, Gu Siqiao felt pity for his misfortune yet anger at his lack of initiative. But beyond this impatience, another more subtle—yet far more malicious—thought uncontrollably crept into his mind.
A top scorer… turns out he’s just another guy who can’t get anything done. Besides, he doesn’t even have a proper graduation diploma—what kind of top student is that?
The meeting officially commenced. Gu Siqiao listened to reports from the managers and group leaders, with a discussion session in between. Gu Siqiao verified details one by one with several managers. He disliked running a one-man show, nor did he like using the title of President to pull rank on people; at his meetings, anyone could raise differing opinions as long as they were backed by evidence.
Gu Siqiao raised a question regarding a data point in the report. The manager slapped his chest, guaranteeing that it was absolutely error-free. As the two argued, Gu Siqiao leaned against the armrest: “Old Zheng, don’t argue with me. I signed that document myself back then, so how could I not know?”
“Why would I lie to you, President Gu? This is what came straight off the production line—I ran over there personally,” the manager said.
Gu Siqiao laughed: “You’re only acting tough because you see I came empty-handed today.”
“It really is like that!”
Gu Siqiao turned his head. Xue Lou happened to stop his pen, and the two exchanged a two-second gaze across the room. Gu Siqiao thought of something, pressing his tongue against his cheek.
Fuck, I forgot this is Xue Lou, not Secretary Liu.
If Secretary Liu were here, these data points would come rattling out of her mouth like a machine gun, citing sources and references with ease.
Otherwise, why would Gu Siqiao come to meetings empty-handed? His subordinates used to be so thorough that he had built a habit of relying on them.
Yet with Xue Lou sitting right there, he was the literal definition of naive and helpless.
“Let’s move past it for now. Come to my office later to discuss it,” Gu Siqiao exhaled, saying.
*
At five-thirty, the moment Kang Shuai stepped out of the subway station, Gu Siqiao’s call arrived.
“My good brother, when are you coming back?” Gu Siqiao asked over the phone. “Headquarters misses you to death.”
“Your good brother is having too much fun to think about home,” Kang Shuai said. “Bye-bye.”
“Kang Shuai!” Gu Siqiao raised his voice before lowering it again. “Stop fooling around. Your Fourth Brother is about to kick the bucket…”
“Just because of Xue Shen?” Kang Shuai said. “Have a little more patience. Aren’t all newcomers like this?”
“It’s not a matter of being a newcomer or not; he’s extremely stubborn.”
“That’s because he hasn’t been put through the wringer yet. He’ll get better in time.”
“Well, don’t make me be the one practicing with him. Besides, with you, my assistant, not around, I don’t dare hand over my personal life affairs to him. He can’t even handle Window’s business alone,” Gu Siqiao let out a deep sigh. “Right now I have a headache, a stomachache, and my heart hurts even more… Do you get it?”
“I don’t,” Kang Shuai said. “That night when you drank too much, you were still murmuring about him. That proves he’s in your heart. Work through it properly—I have high hopes for you!”
“You son of a bitch!” Gu Siqiao snapped angrily. “You’ve forgotten all the good your Fourth Brother did for you! In high school, when I helped you fight and settle scores, why didn’t you say you didn’t get it? When you got caught in puppy love and I took the fall for you, why didn’t you say you didn’t get it?!”
“Speaking of high school,” Kang Shuai slapped his thigh, “remember Qi Chen from our class? He went back to No. 1 High School to be a teacher. When he heard about the public welfare project, he called me today—obviously wanting to squeeze onto the last train. He’s insisting on organizing a class reunion for our grade, and he cordially invited you once again, Fourth Brother.”