To put it without exaggeration, Xia Wei’s hand holding the notebook was actually shaking, and the title of the very first line upon entering her eyes read: Director Song’s Habit Memo.
“Sister Xiaoqing, why do I feel like this looks like the rules of a horror game or strange talk?” Xia Wei raised her head to meet Xie Xiaoqing’s gaze. Although she was still joking, she was genuinely getting cold feet.
The hand Xie Xiaoqing pressed onto Xia Wei’s shoulder was also shaking; she was genuinely afraid that Xia Wei wouldn’t come tomorrow.
“This… Director Song is actually a really good person. Sometimes she is a tiny, tiny bit cold and ruthless, but when trouble hits she truly carries it; she won’t shift the blame onto us,” Xie Xiaoqing said earnestly, putting down her water cup.
Xia Wei’s mouth hung open as she looked at Xie Xiaoqing, then back at the small notebook in her hand.
Heaven knows that when she delivered coffee today, Song Qiao directly treated her like air, and just now she had scanned the rules and strange talks written in the small notebook:
Coffee: Double-shot iced Americano, no sugar, no milk, iced, and don’t make it less iced. Place it on the right-hand side of the desk before nine o’clock every morning, with the cup opening facing inward.
Xia Wei’s mouth twitched. The cup opening facing inward—even this has specifics.
In a movie she watched years ago, the domineering CEO in it was just like this. Has Song Qiao been marinated in this trope?
Has Song Qiao turned herself into a female domineering CEO?
Xia Wei’s gaze shifted downward, catching another item: Regarding overtime, if she works overtime, you cannot leave. But she won’t force you to work overtime; you figure it out yourself.
Xia Wei stared at this for three seconds.
What does “figure it out yourself” mean? Isn’t this disguised mandatory overtime? And yet it’s phrased as if it’s voluntary on the employee’s part.
Do not make suggestions to her on Monday mornings.
Do not look at your phone during meetings.
Do not continue explaining after she says “Got it.”
Do not ask her “Do you want to” or “Is it okay to”—just do it.
Xia Wei read down line by line, her expression shifting from curious to subtle, and then from subtle to an indescribable, complex mix.
Being Song Qiao’s assistant, this job is simply too exhausting.
The coffee needs to be a double-shot iced Americano, and even the orientation of the cup opening has requirements. Documents don’t use staplers, only tail-clip binder clips, and they have to be black. Speeches cannot exceed three minutes, and email subjects have a fixed format. You can’t ask questions, you can’t explain, and you even have to pick your days to make suggestions—Monday mornings are out, so what about Tuesday afternoon? Wednesday?
Every single detail is fastidious to a hair-splitting degree.
She flipped further back. The handwriting looked like it was still from the same person, but judging by how new or old it was, the content on this page seemed to have been added recently, and it was equally detailed, almost entirely concerning personal life.
The form of address used was no longer Director Song, but she…
She is very sensitive to smells. Do not wear strong perfumes, and do not eat foods with heavy odors when going to see her, especially garlic and chives.
Xia Wei instinctively sniffed her own fingers. What did she eat for lunch again? Burger and cola, no garlic, safe.
Her cup is a white ceramic mug, and there is only that one; if anyone else touches it, she will replace it with a new one. If you help her wash her cup, turn it upside down to air dry on a paper towel when finished, do not wipe the inside with a dishcloth.
So Song Qiao has mysophobia too, Xia Wei thought to herself.
She only drinks warm water when drinking water, never ice water. Coffee is the exception; coffee must be iced, the icier the better.
Xia Wei couldn’t help frowning. Is this person’s stomach made of iron? Drinking ice coffee and warm water at the same time, alternating cold and hot—isn’t she afraid of a stomach spasm?
She dislikes other people touching her things. Documents, computer, phone, pen—do not touch any of them. When handing things to her, place them on the desk, do not hand them directly into her hands.
No wonder she didn’t take the coffee when delivered this afternoon, just glanced at it. Xia Wei had thought she wasn’t worthy of letting her reach out her hand; turns out it was just a habit.
Her feet will hurt from wearing high heels all day, but she won’t say it. If you notice she has changed into flats, it’s best not to provoke her that day.
“Don’t provoke her”—Xia Wei silently recited these three words in her heart, feeling that this memo looked more and more like the rules for How to Coexist with the Big Boss in a Horror Game.
She doesn’t eat sweets much, but there is a box of mints in her office drawer. Only one brand, a silver tin box, which is not very easy to buy on a certain online shopping platform, so it’s recommended to stock up three boxes at a time.
On rainy days she becomes even more silent than usual. It’s not that she’s in a bad mood, it’s that she hates rain; try your best not to make her angry on a rainy day.
There is a fixed playlist in her car; do not skip songs, do not turn it off. If she falls asleep in the car, do not wake her up when you reach the destination, let her wake up by herself—dinner banquets excepted.
Xia Wei imagined the scene of herself sitting in the car waiting for her supervisor to wake up from a nap, and the more she thought about it, the more wrong it felt. Is this really just an assistant’s observation and list of precautions?
When she works overtime very late, she will stand by the window and stare blankly for a while. At times like that, don’t go talk to her; she’s just resting her eyes.
“Just resting her eyes”—Xia Wei felt this explanation was inexplicably a bit funny, but after smiling, she felt a pang of heartache.
She doesn’t like others making decisions for her. Don’t ask “Do you want me to help you order food” or “Do you want me to help you call a car”; instead, ask directly “What would you like to eat” or “What time are you leaving”. Give options, not true-or-false questions.
Xia Wei memorized this one. Multiple choice questions, not true-or-false questions, understood.
She is very punctual. Being late by one minute earns you a glance, being late by five minutes gets you asked what’s wrong, and being late by ten minutes—no one has tried that yet.
No one has tried that yet—these four words were more terrifying than any threat.
She doesn’t chat much about private matters. Don’t ask her what she did on the weekend, whether she has a boyfriend, or where she lives. If she wants you to know, she’ll say it herself.
When Xia Wei saw this line, her head swelled up—who would go pry into a supervisor’s private matters anyway?
She has a very good memory. What you’ve said, the mistakes you’ve made, the promises you’ve kept—she remembers all of it. So don’t lie, don’t goof off, don’t pretend to forget.
Xia Wei’s back felt a bit chilled. Had she said anything improper today? It didn’t seem like it. But she’d have to be careful from now on.
Do not interrupt when she’s speaking; wait until she finishes before opening your mouth. If she says “You speak”, then she genuinely wants you to speak, so don’t stand on ceremony.
When she criticizes people she doesn’t raise her voice, but it’s scarier than raising her voice. If you’re scolded, don’t talk back; just wait for her to finish and say “Okay, I’ll fix it” and that’s it.
Xia Wei imagined that scenario and felt she probably wouldn’t even be able to speak.
When she’s in a bad mood, she wipes her glasses. If you see her wiping her glasses, hide if you can.
Hide? Where to hide? Her workstation isn’t going to run away; hide in the bathroom?
Actually, she’s not really hard to get along with. As long as you do what you’re supposed to do, don’t do what you aren’t supposed to do, don’t ask what you shouldn’t ask, don’t touch what you shouldn’t touch, and don’t say what you shouldn’t say—she’s pretty good.
The text after the final dash had traces of blurring, like water spilled onto ink.
Xia Wei assumed that was water; surely it couldn’t be tears, right? Did that predecessor feel so reluctant to leave Song Qiao that she cried?
Xia Wei looked at that final line and stared at it for a long time. She closed the notebook, leaned back in her chair, and let out a long breath.
And they still call this “not really hard to get along with”? This is practically carving the words “Don’t provoke me” into every inch of air.
She thought of a message a friend had sent previously—”Want to quit and not work on the very first day”. Back then she had thought it exaggerated, but now she felt it wasn’t exaggerated at all.
She genuinely didn’t want to work anymore; she wanted to go home.
Watching Xia Wei’s expression, Xie Xiaoqing felt her heart turn half cold and hurriedly put in a good word: “Our Director Song is really quite good. Compared to other leaders who shift blame, Director Song is truly great. Once you spend more time around her, you’ll discover her good points.”
“Hehe…” Xia Wei let out an awkward laugh, took out her phone, and took photos of the contents in the small notebook. Even if she didn’t come tomorrow, she’d at least have material to vent to her friends tonight.
Having finished all this, Xia Wei returned the notebook to Xie Xiaoqing and glanced once more in the direction of the director’s office.
The light was still on, casting a white glow through the crack of the door. Thinking of what was written in the little notebook—If she works overtime, you cannot leave—her head throbbed. She turned her head and lowered her voice to ask Xie Xiaoqing.
“What time does she usually leave?”
“Hard to say. Early is seven or eight, late is…” Xie Xiaoqing shrugged, “It’s hard to say, usually won’t pass ten.”
Xia Wei sighed with a lifeless expression: “Then I won’t leave yet, I’ll wait and see.”
Xie Xiaoqing didn’t say anything else, patted her shoulder, and stood up to tidy her things and prepare to get off work.
People in the office left one after another.
Xia Wei watched the time outside tick by bit by bit. Seven o’clock—seven-thirty. The lights in the opposite office building grew denser and denser, and the humming sound of the air conditioning stood out exceptionally clearly in the quiet office area.
Xia Wei reviewed the rules and strange talks she had just photographed once more, created a new folder on her computer, and saved the afternoon’s meeting minutes and Starlight Plan-related materials inside.
She didn’t know whether she’d come tomorrow or not, but since she was still here, she’d get done what needed doing first.
Just as she finished saving the document, the door to the director’s office opened.
Song Qiao walked out holding her phone and car keys, still wearing the sharply tailored suit from the daytime, except that the top button of her shirt was undone, revealing her slender collarbones.
She swept a glance over the office area, her gaze landing on Xia Wei and pausing slightly.
“Haven’t left yet?”
“Organizing the afternoon’s materials.” Xia Wei stood up.
Song Qiao uttered an “mm”, looked down at her phone screen, her brows furrowed slightly as if looking at some unpleasant news.
Xia Wei hesitated. The rules and strange talks didn’t write down what to do in this situation. Should she proactively ask if she needs help, or pretend she didn’t see?
She decided to shut her mouth first.
Song Qiao pocketed her phone and raised her eyes to look at her: “Can you drive?”
Xia Wei froze: “Yes.”
“Drive me to a hotel.” Song Qiao’s tone was like telling someone to print out a document, so natural that it left zero room for negotiation. “There’s a business dinner tonight, I drank alcohol and can’t drive.”
Xia Wei only heard the first half and paid zero attention to the content of the second half.
She glanced up at the clock on the wall, then looked at Song Qiao’s expression. That face held no particular expression, but she knew the other person was urging her to hurry up.
“Okay, let me pack up.” Xia Wei bent down to shut down her computer and put on her backpack.
Song Qiao leaned against the hallway wall waiting, looked down at her phone again, typed a few characters on the screen quickly, and then turned it off.
Xia Wei shouldered her bag and walked over; Song Qiao had already turned and walked toward the elevator.
There were only two of them in the elevator.
Xia Wei stood toward the back, her peripheral vision sweeping over Song Qiao’s profile.
The elevator lighting illuminated her contours very clearly—high brow bone, straight bridge of the nose, smooth and defined jawline. She certainly possessed a face capable of bewitching all living beings.
Yet that face still bore little expression, even carrying a trace of unperceived fatigue, though her makeup remained exquisite.
When the elevator reached the basement floor, Song Qiao walked in front, her high heels making crisp sounds as they struck the ground, echoing in the empty garage. Xia Wei followed a not-too-close, not-too-far distance behind her.
Song Qiao stopped in front of a black car and pressed her key; the headlights flashed.
Xia Wei didn’t say much, walked around to the driver’s seat, sat down, adjusted the seat and rearview mirrors. Song Qiao got into the back, and seeing Xia Wei’s actions, didn’t say anything either.
The interior trim of the car was very simple, with no excess decorations. The center console was clean and bare, with only a very small wooden aromatherapy pendant hanging from the air conditioning vent, emitting a faint cedar scent.
Xia Wei started the car: “Which hotel are we going to?”
“Park Hyatt.” Song Qiao leaned against the backrest with her eyes closed.
Xia Wei searched on the map; the Park Hyatt wasn’t too far from the company, taking about twenty minutes of normal driving. Song Qiao’s voice sounded again: “Best to arrive before eight.”
As soon as these words came out, Xia Wei immediately checked the time—she was literally given a twenty-minute time limit.
She stepped on the accelerator, and the car pulled out of its parking space.
At the first intersection, there were still three seconds left on the green light, and Xia Wei stepped on the gas and rushed through.
The person in the back seat opened her eyes.
“Attached to this world no longer?” The voice wasn’t loud, but it was chillingly cool, as if blown directly out of the air conditioner’s vent.
Xia Wei tightened her grip on the steering wheel. She knew it—drive fast and she’d get scolded, yet she was only given twenty minutes and wasn’t allowed to drive fast either… Truly hard to please.
“No, just afraid you’ll be late…”
“Drive properly.” Song Qiao’s tone was flat. “There’s still time.”
Implied meaning: What’s the rush?
Xia Wei shut her mouth and softly eased off the gas pedal. Fine, she’s not in a rush, she’s not in a rush at all.
At the next intersection, red light. She obediently stopped and only slowly started moving again when the green light turned on.
The car behind her honked its horn.
Song Qiao turned her head to look at her without speaking, but that look was more uncomfortable than words—as if saying, “Do you even know how to drive?”
Xia Wei felt that no matter how she drove, it was wrong. Drive fast and she’d get told she had nothing tying her to this world; drive slow and she’d get honked at by the car behind, while a real-time commentator sat in the back seat.
She took a deep breath, feeling like Song Qiao was staring at her from behind like pins and needles on her back, so she simply focused on the road ahead.
Coming to another intersection, the green light had already flashed twice.
This time she behaved, released the gas early, and stopped steadily before the white line.
Song Qiao glanced at her watch.
Catching this movement out of the corner of her eye, Xia Wei’s heart skipped a beat—does she think I’m driving too slow and wasting time? Driving fast isn’t okay, driving slow isn’t okay, what on earth does this person want?
“Um… right past this intersection ahead and we’re there,” she said cautiously, trying to prove she hadn’t delayed anything.
Song Qiao ignored her and looked down at her phone.
Taking advantage of the red light gap, Xia Wei quietly rolled her eyes; she really wasn’t coming tomorrow.
“Are you rolling your eyes?”
Xia Wei’s back stiffened.
She stiffly turned her head to meet Song Qiao’s semi-smiling expression.
“No!” Xia Wei hurriedly denied, her voice rising half an octave higher than usual, “I didn’t, I was looking in the rearview mirror, checking the rearview mirror.”
Song Qiao stared at her for two seconds, neither saying she believed it nor that she didn’t, just letting out a light “hmph” and continuing to look down at her phone.
What was that “hmph” supposed to mean? Disbelief? Or too lazy to expose her?
Xia Wei’s face burned fiercely, wishing she could grab that eye-roll back out of the air and stuff it into her own eyes.
How did she get caught? The lighting inside the car was so dim, how did Song Qiao see it? Is her eyesight that good? Or was she just bluffing her?
The green light turned on, and she stepped hard on the accelerator, causing the car to jerk forward abruptly.
The person in the back seat tilted slightly forward before leaning back against the seat again.
Song Qiao raised her eyes to look at her through the rearview mirror. This look said nothing, yet Xia Wei felt it was scarier than speaking.
Gritting her teeth, she pressed down her speed, drove steadily through the final intersection, and turned into the entrance of the Park Hyatt Hotel.
Seven-fifty-five—even faster than she had anticipated.
Xia Wei secretly glanced in the rearview mirror. Song Qiao’s face still didn’t show much emotion, but she somehow felt Song Qiao looked slightly displeased.
“We’re here,” Xia Wei said softly, her tone carrying a touch of a guilty conscience.
Song Qiao straightened up, took out a mirror from her bag to check her look, tidied her hair, and reapplied a layer of lipstick.
The entire process was quiet and rapid, like something rehearsed countless times.
Xia Wei waited quietly, her fingers resting on the steering wheel, calculating in her mind how to explain that eye-roll later—no, she didn’t roll her eyes at all, she was looking at the rearview mirror, checking the rearview mirror! Normal driving actions!
Song Qiao put away her mirror and pushed open the car door.
One foot had already stepped out of the car when she suddenly pulled it back.
Xia Wei froze for a moment, thinking she was going to settle accounts for being late, or bring up that “rearview mirror” business.
“Didn’t eat?”
“No.”
“Come inside with me.”
Xia Wei’s eyes narrowed instantly. Go inside with her?
Nighttime, hotel, business dinner, asking her to go inside together?
Combining these four phrases, no matter how she thought about it, it didn’t seem quite right.
She instinctively straightened her body, her brain spinning rapidly through several thoughts.
Could this be some strange test? Or rather… she suddenly remembered news stories about workplace unspoken rules online, sending a chill down her back as she completely forgot what Song Qiao had said before.
Noticing the wariness on her face, Song Qiao raised an eyebrow, seeming amused, but showing no intention of explaining.
“Are you coming or not?” she asked, her tone sounding like she was stating the most ordinary matter in the world.
Xia Wei hesitated for two seconds.
She stared at Song Qiao’s expression for a long time, attempting to read something from that face.
Song Qiao just looked at her like that, unhurried, without explaining, as if waiting for an answer she was certain would follow her inside.