“It’s nothing major,” Lin Yuan said, sitting at his workstation and taking a sip of coffee. “The Starlight Project is going to do a headliner interview, and Director Song wanted to book Chen Yu, but Chen Yu’s schedule is booked through next month.”
Lin Yuan paused: “Director Song asked to find a way to move it earlier, and I said ‘it might be a bit hard to handle,’ and she…”
He didn’t finish, but everyone understood.
“Still, that’s no reason to throw such a huge temper, right?” someone whispered.
“It’s not because of this,” Lin Yuan shook his head. “That client we booked before had already agreed, but yesterday they suddenly went back on their word and said they didn’t want to do it anymore. Director Song called them personally, and the other party wouldn’t even answer the phone.”
“Which client?”
“That one—” Lin Yuan lowered his voice and said a name.
Xia Wei didn’t catch it clearly, but she saw the expressions of several people around her change. Some frowned, some curled their lips, and some showed a knowing “so it’s that one” look.
“That’s definitely hard to book; notoriously famous in the industry.”
“Director Song really has it hard. If anyone else faced this kind of thing, they would have given up long ago.”
“That’s why you’re someone else, and you’re just sitting here.”
A few people chuckled softly, their voices very low, and they quickly stopped.
Xia Wei sat to the side without speaking.
During lunch, Xia Wei and Xie Xiaoqing sat in the restaurant downstairs.
At the next table were a few colleagues from other departments. Their chatting voice was neither too loud nor too soft, just right to be heard.
“Did you hear that the production and publicity department exploded again today?”
“Of course, Song Qiao was throwing a tantrum early in the morning, and Lin Yuan got blasted out as soon as he went in.”
“Is it worth it? Isn’t it just an interview?”
“You don’t know, that client is notoriously difficult to deal with. Several people went to book them before and were rejected. Song Qiao insisted on booking them, and when she couldn’t, she threw a tantrum. Isn’t this just making things hard for herself?”
“Her personality is just like that; she has to grasp everything herself, wants everything to be the best, and doesn’t even look at the reality of the situation.”
“She’s the female devil, after all. How can she be a director without being a devil?”
A few people chuckled.
Xie Xiaoqing looked up at Xia Wei. Xia Wei kept her head down eating, saying nothing.
“Don’t mind them,” Xie Xiaoqing whispered. “They don’t understand.”
Xia Wei murmured an “mhm” and continued eating.
But in her heart, she was thinking—she didn’t understand either. She didn’t understand whether Song Qiao, when saying “Then I’ll go wait for them myself,” genuinely believed she could wait them out, or if she was just stubbornly fighting with herself.
“Why is Director Song so angry?” Xia Wei still wanted to know.
“That fellow Lin Yuan pulled seven or eight layers of connections himself, and the other party just gave him the runaround. He took it seriously and reported it straight up. Director Song already hates wasting time and expectations,” Xie Xiaoqing explained.
“If Lin Yuan hadn’t reported false news, we’d still have time to find someone else to build momentum for the Starlight Project, but now…” Xie Xiaoqing’s unsaid implication was that it was too late.
After finishing lunch and returning to her workstation, Xia Wei glanced at the director’s office.
The door was still open, and the shadow behind the frosted glass was motionless. She probably hadn’t eaten again.
Xia Wei sat at her desk for a moment, picked up her phone, and went downstairs.
When she stood at the door of the director’s office holding the meal bought from downstairs, she hesitated again.
Song Qiao raised her eyes to look at her, her gaze falling on the lunch box in Xia Wei’s hands. Neither of them spoke first. Xia Wei simply walked in, placed the lunch box on the desk, and pushed it slightly toward Song Qiao’s side.
“Take it away,” Song Qiao’s voice lacked temperature.
Xia Wei didn’t move. Meeting Song Qiao’s impatient eyes, she still didn’t retreat.
“I have no appetite,” Song Qiao said, lowering her eyes to look at the lunch box, her tone softening a bit.
“Director Song, let me go get you a cup of warm water,” Xia Wei mustered her courage.
Song Qiao looked at her own white ceramic cup, her pupils shrinking slightly as her gaze fell on Xia Wei’s hands—clean.
“Mhm. Rinse it once with plain water, then rinse it again with hot water,” Song Qiao added, “Thank you.”
This was different from the “rule-based weird tales.” Xia Wei was very happy about this new understanding, and the steps she took turning around to leave were much lighter.
Song Qiao sat at her desk with her notebook open, full of two pages of writing, but half of it was crossed out. A strand of hair slipped from behind her ear, hanging down the side of her face without being tucked back in time.
When Xia Wei came back carrying the cup of water, Song Qiao was sitting at the desk looking just like that.
“Director Song, your warm water.” Xia Wei placed the cup on the desk and pushed it toward Song Qiao’s hand.
Song Qiao raised her eyes to look at her, glanced at the cup of water, and said nothing.
“The coffee got cold, drinking it is bad for your stomach,” Xia Wei said, and without waiting for Song Qiao to react, she turned and walked away.
As she reached the door, she heard a very soft “mhm” come from behind her. She knew Song Qiao had taken it in.
Don’t ask her how she knew; she relied entirely on intuition.
Xia Wei closed the door and returned to her workstation.
Inside the office, Song Qiao stared at the cup of warm water for a few seconds. She reached out, picked it up, brought it to her lips, and then stopped—it was warm.
Not hot, not cold; just the right temperature to enter the mouth.
She put the cup down and continued looking at her notebook. After about five minutes, her stomach suddenly twitched—not painful, just that kind of empty feeling, like something had scraped across it.
She had only drunk a cup of coffee in the morning and hadn’t eaten anything at noon. Up to now, there was nothing in her stomach except caffeine.
She looked at the cup of water again, picked it up, and took a sip. The warm water slid down her throat, and that empty feeling in her stomach was suppressed a little bit.
Then she took another sip.
When she finished the last sip, she looked down at the empty cup, her lips moved, and she glanced at the lunch box on the side. She didn’t touch it, but put the cup on the desk, tucked back her falling hair, and continued working.
The afternoon passed very slowly.
After Xia Wei finished handling the things on hand, she glanced at the time—it wasn’t far from leaving work. She turned to look at the director’s office; the door was open, but no one was inside.
“Where’s Director Song?” she asked Xie Xiaoqing.
“Went out. Said she went to talk business,” Xie Xiaoqing said without raising her head. “Didn’t take you?”
“No,” Xia Wei said.
She couldn’t describe how she felt. It wasn’t disappointment, nor was it relief, just a kind of… strange blankness.
The past few days, Song Qiao took her everywhere—banquets, meetings, business talks. She thought she would follow along today too.
Now Song Qiao left alone, without even saying goodbye.
Maybe she wasn’t needed, Xia Wei thought. Maybe the business to be discussed today was very important, and bringing an assistant might be inconvenient. Or maybe Song Qiao felt she wouldn’t be able to help even if she went.
But previously she couldn’t even help block drinks, yet Song Qiao still took her along. Why not today? Could it be personal business?
Xia Wei couldn’t figure it out and didn’t bother to think about it anymore. Today was Friday, and there was no work tomorrow, so she could have a good rest.
Just as she finished packing her things and prepared to leave work, her phone buzzed.
Song Qiao: Come to the garage.
Three words, no punctuation, no cause and effect. Xia Wei stared at the screen for two seconds, then eagerly shouldered her bag, the corners of her mouth lifting involuntarily.
“Where are you going? It’s not off-work time yet.” Seeing Xia Wei carrying her bag and thinking she was leaving early, Xie Xiaoqing hurriedly stopped her.
“Director Song told me to go to the garage,” Xia Wei smiled and explained.
Xie Xiaoqing let go of her hand and watched Xia Wei leave. Xia Wei should be able to stay.
The lighting in the garage was very dim, and Song Qiao’s car was parked in its old spot.
When Xia Wei walked closer, she saw Song Qiao leaning against the driver’s seat, the car window rolled down a crack, and her fingers tapping rhythmically on the steering wheel.
Xia Wei pulled open the driver’s side door: “Should I drive?”
Song Qiao didn’t speak. She unbuckled her seatbelt and stepped out of the driver’s seat, moving a bit slower than usual, as if something was dragging down her body.
Xia Wei sat in the driver’s seat, fastened her seatbelt, and waited for Song Qiao to get in and sit down before starting the car.
“Where to?” Xia Wei asked.
“Park Hyatt.”
Park Hyatt again. Xia Wei didn’t ask further, set the navigation, and drove out of the garage.
On the way, Song Qiao didn’t say a single word. She leaned against the passenger seat, closed her eyes, and rested her fingers on her knees, motionless.
Xia Wei still observed Song Qiao out of the corner of her eye. Her complexion wasn’t very good, her lips were a bit dry, and that strand of hair that had slipped down in the morning had already been meticulously tucked back.
When the car arrived at the Park Hyatt, Song Qiao didn’t get out. She opened her eyes, glanced at the hotel entrance, and said, “Wait.”
Xia Wei didn’t know what they were waiting for, but she didn’t ask. She parked the car in the temporary parking area at the hotel entrance, turned off the engine, and waited with Song Qiao.
Time ticked by second by second.
Song Qiao sat in the passenger seat, unmoving, her eyes fixed on the hotel entrance as if waiting for someone who would definitely appear.
Xia Wei sat in the driver’s seat, not daring to speak, not daring to play on her phone, and even softening her breathing.
She didn’t know who they were waiting for, but she knew this person was very important to Song Qiao—important enough to make her drop all her pride and wait here blankly for nearly an hour.
The hotel doors opened and closed, with travelers coming and going: middle-aged men in suits, tourists dragging luggage, and couples holding hands.
But the person Song Qiao was waiting for never appeared.
Xia Wei’s stomach let out a growl, exceptionally clear in the quiet car. She quickly pressed it down with her hand and secretly glanced at Song Qiao.
Song Qiao didn’t look at her, but the corners of her mouth moved, unsure if she was smiling.
“Hungry?” Song Qiao asked.
“No,” Xia Wei said, and her stomach growled again.
“You go eat first,” Song Qiao looked at Xia Wei and said.
Xia Wei shook her head. She didn’t know how Song Qiao could resist hunger like this; when she went in to deliver documents in the afternoon, the lunch box was still sitting intact in the corner.
So, Song Qiao had only drunk a cup of coffee the entire day, plus the warm water she had fetched for her.
After who knows how long, the sky gradually turned dark.
A black commercial vehicle stopped at the hotel entrance. The door opened, and a man in his fifties stepped out, wearing a dark gray jacket and a duckbill cap, followed by an assistant carrying a bag.
Song Qiao’s fingers paused on her knees.
“We waited for them,” she said, her voice very soft, like talking to herself.
Xia Wei looked at the man; he looked familiar, but she couldn’t remember who he was. However, she saw Song Qiao push open the car door and step out.
Song Qiao walked over in high heels, her steps steady and her back straight, looking no different from how she looked in the office.
She walked up to the man and said something.
Xia Wei couldn’t hear clearly through the car window, but she saw the man stop and look at Song Qiao.
That glance was very short, so short it seemed impatient. He shook his head, said something, and then turned and walked into the hotel, with his assistant following closely behind without even looking at Song Qiao.
Song Qiao stood in place without chasing after him.
She stood for about a few seconds, then she turned around, walked back to the car, pulled open the door, and sat in the passenger seat.
“Let’s go,” she said.
Her voice was very flat, so flat that no emotion could be discerned, but Xia Wei saw her hands shaking—not the big shaking, but a kind of shaking where her fingers were slightly curled and her knuckles were turning white.
Xia Wei started the car and drove out of the hotel.
“Are we going back to the company?” she asked.
“Go to your place,” Song Qiao said.