Xia Wei looked at the two of them acting like veterans and nodded silently: “Yeah, I’ve witnessed it.”…
When Xia Wei came home after work, her head was still full of information about those six artists. Zhou Ci saw her muttering to herself even while eating, and was secretly terrified.
“Weiwei.”
“Weiwei.”
“Weiwei.”
Each voice was louder than the last. Until the final call, Zhou Ci couldn’t help slamming the table, causing Xia Wei to finally look up at her: “What’s wrong, Mom?”
“Have you been under a lot of pressure at work lately?” Zhou Ci weighed her words, leaving out the word “possessed.”
Xia Wei threw her head back and took a deep breath, letting out a heavy sigh: “No, I just have to accompany Director Song to see a client, and I’m memorizing materials.”
“Oh, so you were memorizing materials.” Zhou Ci breathed a sigh of relief.
“…” Xia Wei only then reacted, looking at Zhou Ci with a helpless expression: “Did you think I got possessed?”
“No,” Zhou Ci denied.
Of course Xia Wei didn’t believe it. Knowing her own mother, she was definitely already thinking about finding the shaman woman at the back of the building to take a look at her.
“Ahem… Are you guys busy lately?” Zhou Ci gave a light cough, as if covering up something.
Upon hearing this, Xia Wei narrowed her eyes: “What are you trying to do?”
To know one’s mother is to know oneself; with Zhou Ci looking like this, she must be plotting something.
Sure enough, Zhou Ci’s next sentence was: “Have time to invite your leader over for dinner at home, to deepen our relationship.”
“Mom… you said it yourself, she’s a leader. That day was really an accident, I’m… not close with her.” Xia Wei wanted to say there was nothing between them, but since they were superiors and subordinates after all, she could only say they weren’t close.
“Then go see that pretty sister instead.” Zhou Ci changed the subject.
Xia Wei didn’t speak. She quickly finished her meal, stood up, and said, “Mom, I don’t have time to date right now, and I don’t want to.”
“Do you like Song Qiao?”
Xia Wei sighed helplessly: “Mom, she really is just my leader.”
“Who told you I don’t like this type? Fang Tian?”
“Does it take little Tian to tell me? You’ve liked this kind since you were a kid…”
“Stop… Mom, my good mom, I’m done eating, and I have to work overtime tonight, so I’ll have to trouble you with the dishes.” Xia Wei didn’t want to continue bickering with Zhou Ci; her powerlessness wasn’t something her mother could see.
Xia Wei locked herself in her bedroom and started memorizing the printed materials…
On Tuesday morning, Xie Xiaoqing arrived right on the dot, carrying her eternal combination of steamed buns and soy milk.
“Morning, Sister Xiaoqing.” Xia Wei slumped over her workstation, her voice leaking a sense of powerlessness.
“Ah!!! Xiaowei, why are your dark circles so heavy? Didn’t you sleep well last night?” Xie Xiaoqing exclaimed in surprise upon seeing Xia Wei’s complexion.
Xia Wei yawned: “Memorized until two in the morning last night.”
Song Qiao had just stepped into the entrance of the Production and Promotion Department when she heard Xia Wei’s voice, and walked straight over: “Finished memorizing?”
This startled Xia Wei so much that she stood up; if Song Qiao hadn’t stepped back half a step, her chin might have suffered.
Song Qiao didn’t speak, her gaze appraising Xia Wei’s outfit for today—the white shirt and suit pants Xia Wei had worn to her interview.
“Mhm.” Song Qiao’s voice was neither salty nor sweet, impossible to read emotionally, but she took her own coffee away.
As soon as Song Qiao left, Xia Wei sat down and yawned again.
“Why don’t you get yourself a cup of coffee too?” Seeing her like this, Xie Xiaoqing suggested.
Hearing this, Xia Wei turned around and went to the pantry to make herself a double-shot iced Americano. She finally understood Song Qiao’s happiness now; it was truly refreshing.
In the morning.
Song Qiao received a phone call, sat in her office for a long time after hanging up, and then came out to call Xia Wei.
“Come out with me.”
Xia Wei didn’t ask where they were going; she grabbed her bag and followed.
The car drove out of the underground parking garage, and Song Qiao named an address—a creative park, different from the place where they met producer Chen Yu last time.
Xia Wei set the navigation and glanced at Song Qiao in the rearview mirror. Her expression was tighter than usual, but not nervous; it looked more like she was calculating something.
“Who are we going to see?” Xia Wei asked.
“Chen Yu.”
Xia Wei wasn’t surprised, nor did she ask anything else, focusing on driving.
The creative park was in the old city, and Chen Yu’s studio was in a quiet alley.
Song Qiao had Xia Wei park the car at the entrance of the alley, and the two walked in.
Blue bricks and gray walls, Boston ivy hanging down from the eaves, the afternoon sunlight filtered into fragments by the leaves, falling on the stone slab road.
Song Qiao walked in front, her pace neither fast nor slow, her high heels making crisp sounds on the flagstones.
Chen Yu’s studio was behind a vermilion wooden door, which was half-open with no sign.
Song Qiao knocked on the door, and a clear “Come in” came from inside. Pushing the door open revealed a small courtyard; the main house was the workshop, and the side rooms were guest reception rooms.
In the middle of the courtyard stood a pomegranate tree, neither flowering nor bearing fruit.
Chen Yu was sitting on a rattan chair under the tree, holding a book in her hand, with a cup of tea placed before her. She wore a dark blue cotton-linen shirt, her hair casually tied up in the back without makeup.
“Director Song.” Chen Yu put down the book, stood up, and smiled, “You really are persistent.”
“Teacher Chen.” Song Qiao walked over, stopped in front of Chen Yu, and revealed an appropriately measured smile.
Chen Yu’s smile faded a bit. Looking at Song Qiao, she didn’t speak.
“As for Producer Luo, I’ve seen him; he said his schedule is fully booked,” Song Qiao continued, looking at Chen Yu. “Fully booked means he feels Starlight isn’t qualified.”
Chen Yu picked up her teacup, took a sip, and didn’t reply.
“I disagree with his judgment,” Song Qiao said. “But I have no way to prove it to him, so I came to you.”
“Came to me?” Chen Yu put down the teacup. “I have no way to prove it to him either.”
“I know,” Song Qiao said. “But don’t you want to try?”
Chen Yu leaned back against the rattan chair, looking at Song Qiao. A few unreadable emotions showed in the depths of her eyes, a mix of curiosity and shock.
“You’re a very interesting person,” Chen Yu said. “Other people come to me asking me to help them; you come to me to let me try…”
“Try whether the Starlight Project can succeed,” Song Qiao said.
Xia Wei always felt these two were speaking in riddles. She felt like an ordinary person straying into a shady shop, unable to understand the slang, anxious and scratching her heart in suspense.
Chen Yu was silent for a moment, stood up, walked over to the pomegranate tree, and looked up at the barren tree with no flowers or fruit.
“What do you want to do?” Chen Yu looked back at Song Qiao.
Song Qiao’s eyes lit up, vanishing in an instant. Xia Wei watched as Song Qiao made a “please” gesture toward the side room, as if she were the owner of this house.
Chen Yu said nothing and walked toward the reception hall in the side room, with Song Qiao following closely behind.
Xia Wei just took a step forward to follow when Song Qiao looked back at her: “You stay here.”
“Okay, Director Song.” Xia Wei nodded, sitting down on the long stone bench under the pomegranate tree. Her gaze landed on the two in the tearoom, though she couldn’t quite hear what they were saying.
She could only see that Chen Yu’s expression didn’t look too good, while Song Qiao had a look of complete confidence.
Chen Yu saw Song Qiao out, and Song Qiao expressed her gratitude: “Thank you, Teacher Chen.”
“Don’t thank me,” Chen Yu waved her hand. “I didn’t help with anything.”
“Teacher Chen is being modest.” Song Qiao nodded slightly, glancing at Xia Wei, who immediately followed.
Song Qiao turned and walked outward, taking a few steps before stopping and looking back at Chen Yu. “Teacher Chen, if the Starlight Project succeeds, would you be willing to come as a guest for the debut ceremony?”
Chen Yu smiled, a smile a bit more genuine than the previous ones: “Talk to me after you make it happen.”
Once outside, Song Qiao stood in the alley and took a deep breath.
Following behind, Xia Wei saw her fingers lightly clench at her sides before slowly relaxing—that was a small habit she only had when relaxing.
“Director Song, are we heading back?” Xia Wei asked.
“No.” Song Qiao turned to look at her. “You stay.”
Xia Wei was stunned: “Me?”
“Starting tomorrow, you come to Chen Yu’s studio every day.” Song Qiao’s tone left no room for discussion. “Don’t do anything else, just come. Whatever she tells you to do, you do; if she doesn’t tell you to do anything, you just sit there.”
Xia Wei opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but swallowed it back. “For how long?”
“I don’t know.”
Xia Wei stood in the alley, looking into Song Qiao’s eyes. There was no hesitation, no doubt in those eyes, only a kind of thing she had seen many times—that calmness of “I know this matter is very difficult, but I still have to do it.”
Or more aptly, a stubborn mule.
“Okay,” Xia Wei said.
On the way back, Song Qiao drove, dropping Xia Wei off at the entrance of her residential community before leaving.
Xia Wei watched Song Qiao’s car drive away, and just as she turned around, Zhou Ci appeared before her with a smiling face.
“Mom, why are you here?” Xia Wei asked, holding onto Zhou Ci’s arm.
Zhou Ci smiled without answering.
“I was just out on fieldwork…”
“It’s not even time to get off work yet.” Zhou Ci interrupted Xia Wei’s words.
Xia Wei’s eyes widened slightly, as if finding it hard to believe. She pulled out her phone—was this Song Qiao’s compensation for exiling her?
“Aiya, it was just fieldwork, by the time we get back to the company it’ll be time to get off work anyway.” After finishing her explanation, Xia Wei snatched the plastic bag from Zhou Ci’s hand and strode forward.
Lying in bed at night, Fang Tian’s routine comfort time arrived, and her voice call rang on time.
“How is it? How was today?” Fang Tian asked.
Xia Wei rolled over: “Exiled.”
“What do you mean? You’re not in the Production and Promotion Department anymore?” Fang Tian pursued the question.
“No, starting tomorrow I have to go guard Teacher Chen Yu.” Xia Wei stared at the ceiling, her eyes filled with confusion.
If Chen Yu keeps refusing, is she going to stay at Chen Yu’s studio forever? And if she goes tomorrow, will she really not be kicked out?
After hearing Xia Wei’s melancholy, Fang Tian comforted her: “Then you don’t have to face the female devil for a while, isn’t that pretty good?”
Xia Wei fell silent. Actually—she was willing to stay by Song Qiao’s side. It gave her a strong sense of security, as if even if the sky of the Production and Promotion Department collapsed, Song Qiao would still be holding it up.
The next morning, Xia Wei didn’t go to the company and went straight to Chen Yu’s studio instead.
When she arrived, Chen Yu was watering flowers in the courtyard. Seeing her, she was startled for a moment, then smiled.
“Song Qiao sent you?”
“Mhm.” Xia Wei stood at the door, not knowing whether to step forward or retreat.
“Come in.” Chen Yu put down the watering can and pointed toward the side room. “There are books inside, read them yourself. I have to work and don’t have time to entertain you.”