Song Qiao lowered her gaze, turned her head slightly to look out the window, and curved the corners of her lips in a place Xia Wei couldn’t see.
“I’m going.” Xia Wei unbuckled her seatbelt as if a hero facing death, pushed open the car door, and got out.
The wind after nightfall blew against a person with a chilly bite. Xia Wei immediately pulled her clothes tighter around herself, whereas Song Qiao stood straight, holding her bag and walking with large strides toward the hotel entrance.
Xia Wei followed closely behind. When Song Qiao pushed open the private dining room door, Xia Wei immediately scanned the situation inside.
The potbellied leaders she had expected did not appear; there were only a few women of different age groups. There was no fermenting smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol, only a faint scent of perfume.
Upon smelling the perfume, Xia Wei immediately looked at Song Qiao. She remembered that Song Qiao disliked it, but nothing showed on Song Qiao’s face, and the corners of her mouth still hung with a just-right smile, looking just like she was wearing a mask.
“Director Song is here, come sit quickly, we saved a seat for you.” The person who spoke was obviously the protagonist of this dinner party.
Xia Wei originally intended to sit nearby, but as soon as she made a move, her wrist was suddenly grasped by someone, and a force pulled her to follow right behind Song Qiao.
“Sister Ming.” Song Qiao walked toward Sister Ming’s side. The person next to Sister Ming saw Song Qiao holding Xia Wei’s hand and yielded the seat with great situational awareness.
Sister Ming glanced at Xia Wei, then looked at the person by Song Qiao’s side, a trace of a smile surfacing in the depths of her eyes: “Really not planning to use her anymore?”
Right at that exact moment, Xia Wei noticed a fleeting trace of distraction flash across Song Qiao’s perfect face.
Who is she?
“She has a better path ahead,” Song Qiao smiled and replied softly, without expanding the topic.
Sister Ming was a seasoned expert; seeing that Song Qiao had no intention of chatting further, she didn’t pursue the topic either.
“Eat and chat as we go, little sister don’t be formal.” The last half-sentence was said to Xia Wei.
Xia Wei nodded: “Thank you, President Ming.”
Song Qiao called her sister, so she called her president; that shouldn’t be wrong.
“I recently met a kid, quite interesting. Is there still a spot in your side’s Starlight Project?” Sister Ming’s mouth held a smile, yet her eyes carried shrewd sharpness as she looked at Song Qiao.
The private room fell quiet for an instant—not the kind of quiet where no one spoke, but the kind where everyone was waiting for Song Qiao to speak.
Xia Wei sat beside Song Qiao, her peripheral vision sweeping over the expressions of the others at the table—some lowered their heads to pick food, others picked up their wine glasses pretending not to hear, but their glances kept drifting over this way.
Were there any open spots in the Starlight Project? Of course not.
The six candidates had long since been finalized, contracts had been signed, and preview-stage promotional materials had already been filmed.
Xia Wei had looked at that list while sorting data in the afternoon, and right after every single name was the phrase “already signed”.
Yet what Sister Ming was asking wasn’t whether there were open spots, but rather: Can you squeeze out a spot for my sake?
Song Qiao picked up the teacup in front of her, gently blew away the floating foam, and took a small sip.
Her movements were very slow—so slow that the air in the private room seemed to congeal a bit along with it.
She put down the teacup, raised her eyes to look at Sister Ming, and smiled.
That smile was just right—neither distant nor overly intimate. Xia Wei wondered if Song Qiao had specifically practiced it in front of a mirror.
“Since Sister Ming has brought it up, by rights I shouldn’t refuse.” Song Qiao’s voice wasn’t loud, but everyone in the private room heard it clearly. “It’s just that the candidates for this term of the Starlight Project were decided three months ago; the contracts went through the legal department, and the promotional materials entered the studio. Changing people at this point, I’m afraid it won’t be very easy to give an account to the other side.”
She didn’t say “no”, nor did she say “there are no spots”, only saying “it won’t be very easy to give an account to the other side”.
Sister Ming was a smart person; she naturally understood who the “other side” referred to—platforms, brand sponsors, and the management companies of already-signed trainees; none of those parties were easy to mess with.
“Is that so…” Sister Ming smiled, her tone light and casual as if speaking of an insignificant matter. “Then what about the next term? Your project surely won’t only run for one season, right?”
The smile on Song Qiao’s face didn’t change, but Xia Wei noticed the hand she placed beneath the table tighten slightly.
The next term? The first season of the Starlight Project hadn’t even aired yet, and the second season hadn’t even been proposed; Sister Ming was forcing her to draw a pie in the sky (make empty promises).
“If the next term can be done, the very first spot will be reserved for Sister Ming.” Song Qiao picked up her teacup, raised it slightly toward Sister Ming’s direction, “At that time, I’ll still have to rely heavily on Sister Ming’s support.”
The words were spoken eloquently, offering both a promise—reserving the first spot for you—and leaving an escape route. As for whether it could be done and when it would be done, that wasn’t something that could be determined today.
Sister Ming looked at her for two seconds, then also picked up her wine glass, gently clinking it against Song Qiao’s teacup: “Fine, when Director Song speaks, I feel at ease.”
Cups clashed, emitting a crisp sound.
Watching from the side, Xia Wei broke out in a sweat on her palms.
From beginning to end throughout this meal, Song Qiao hadn’t said a single “no”, yet not a single person Sister Ming wanted to shove in managed to get stuffed.
She lowered her head to drink a mouthful of soup, thinking that this person’s mouth was probably made of iron—immune to both soft and hard tactics, and capable of sending people back with a smile.
Sister Ming didn’t bring up the Starlight Project again, shifting instead to chat about other things—recent market conditions, a certain mutual acquaintance, which restaurant’s food was cooked well.
Song Qiao answered them one by one, unhurriedly, occasionally smiling, occasionally chiming in with a couple of echoing remarks. She looked utterly relaxed, as if that clash just now had never happened at all.
Seeing Song Qiao looking so poised and at ease, Xia Wei unconsciously relaxed her shoulders. Just as she picked up her chopsticks and was about to pick up a dish, right as her chopsticks were about to touch it, the lazy Susan spun, and her desired dish slid away past her eyes.
Fortunately, Xia Wei reacted quickly and didn’t look at the person who had spun the table, instead reaching directly for the food right in front of her. What Xia Wei didn’t expect, however, was that—that dish spun right back.
That familiar hand was resting right on the edge of the lazy Susan, its owner still chatting and laughing away with Sister Ming, her gaze pausing for a split second on the face of the person who had just turned the table.
Xia Wei hurriedly picked up a mouthful and lowered her head to eat. Was this Song Qiao’s silent resistance?
Throughout the entire dinner banquet, Xia Wei noticed that the chopsticks in front of Song Qiao had hardly moved at all.
When the party was breaking up, Sister Ming held onto Song Qiao’s hand and spoke a few more words—nothing more than polite clichés like “let’s gather often when you’re free” and “I’ll treat you next time.”
Song Qiao smiled and agreed, courteous and thorough, leak-proof at every point.
Coming out of the private room’s door, when only the two of them were left in the corridor, Song Qiao’s footsteps paused slightly.
Following right behind, Xia Wei almost bumped into her.
“What’s wrong? Director Song, did you leave something behind?” Xia Wei turned slightly and asked.
Without turning her head, Song Qiao handed the car keys from her bag to Xia Wei, her voice very light, as if speaking to herself: “Go bring the car over, wait for me at the entrance.”
Xia Wei acknowledged, walking quickly toward the elevator direction.
After taking a few steps out, she looked back.
Song Qiao stood under the corridor lights, head lowered, one hand pressing against her temple, her shoulders drooping slightly.
The person who had been completely airtight inside the private room looked at this moment like a string pulled taut all day long, finally loosening.
Xia Wei pulled back her gaze and pressed the elevator button.
She suddenly felt that being a director was also quite exhausting; after an entire dinner party, she hadn’t even eaten a couple bites of food, spending the whole time dealing with people instead.
Sister Ming’s car left first. Song Qiao stood at the hotel entrance, watching that black sedan merge into the traffic flow, the smile on her face fading bit by bit.
When Xia Wei drove the car over, Song Qiao was already standing by the roadside waiting. The night wind fluttered the hem of her suit jacket; she stood with her arms crossed over her chest, looking even more slender and frail than during the day.
Xia Wei stopped the car steadily, unbuckled her seatbelt, got out, and handed the car keys to Song Qiao, deliberately pinching a tiny corner to avoid touching Song Qiao’s hand. Song Qiao glanced at the car keys, reached out to take them, and strode toward the driver’s seat.
“Get in, I’ll send you back.” Song Qiao’s voice was somewhat hoarse, as if she had caught a chill from the wind or was simply too exhausted.
“Back where?” Xia Wei looked at Song Qiao, who was already pulling open the driver’s side door, still completely dazed, though the question had already slipped out.
Song Qiao’s hand pulling the door paused slightly, raising her eyes to look at Xia Wei with a gaze that seemed to look at someone worthy of care.
Xia Wei instantly snapped to her senses—Song Qiao was going to drive her back home. Sure enough, preconceptions had poisoned her mind; her very first reaction had actually been that Song Qiao was taking her back to the company for overtime instead of sending her home.
Once in the car, Xia Wei originally intended to proactively input her home address into the car’s navigation system, but remembering the “rules and strange talks”, she withdrew her outstretched hand.
“Input your address yourself.” Song Qiao caught sight of Xia Wei’s small movement out of the corner of her eye.
Receiving the instruction, Xia Wei quickly typed her address into the car system and then obediently fastened her seatbelt.
Song Qiao glanced at the address Xia Wei inputted, her pupils constricting slightly, but she didn’t say a word.
Road conditions at night were very good. Xia Wei felt that it was only right for Song Qiao to disdain her driving skills; Song Qiao drove so smoothly that it made Xia Wei want to fall asleep right then and there.
Yet her boss was driving while she fell asleep…
Xia Wei kept trying hard to keep her eyes open, but her head bobbed down every now and then; it was hard for Song Qiao not to notice.
Song Qiao watched the street views flashing by continuously—a feeling both familiar and unfamiliar. She hadn’t returned to this neighborhood for a long time; her entire high school career had been spent right here.
“We’re arrived.” Song Qiao parked the car downstairs at Xia Wei’s building.
With a hazy gaze looking out at the familiar scenery outside, Xia Wei subconsciously pushed open the car door and stepped out, forgetting not to tell Song Qiao as she shut the door: “Thanks, driver.”
“Huh?” Song Qiao pressed down the front passenger window, turned her body slightly forward, raising her eyes to look at Xia Wei standing outside.
The night breeze swept across Xia Wei’s cheeks, giving her a sudden jolt. She had actually dozed off and thought Song Qiao was a ride-sharing driver.
“Thank you, Director, for bringing me back.” Xia Wei bent over toward the inside, smiling ingratiatingly: “Director, drive slowly on your way back.”
Song Qiao pulled back her gaze, the car window rolled up, and she drove away.
Watching Song Qiao’s taillights disappear into the night, Xia Wei yawned as she headed upstairs.
Zhou Ci was already asleep, leaving a small nightlight on in the living room. Xia Wei hung her bag on the hook behind the door and shuffled back to her room in slippers.
Emerging after a shower, Xia Wei wiped her hair with one hand while picking up her phone to dial her friend Fang Tian. The other end answered almost in a second.
“Hey, Weiwei, how was the first day?” Fang Tian’s voice carried a smile.
Xia Wei threw her entire body into the bed, staring up at the ceiling and letting out a long sigh: “I want to quit.”
“Ah? You want to quit on the first day?” The sound of pages turning came from Fang Tian’s side—she was probably rushing to finish something, but upon hearing Xia Wei’s tone, the book closed again: “What happened?”
“My boss is too difficult to deal with.” Xia Wei casually forwarded the “rules and strange talks” to Fang Tian: “Take a look yourself.”
While Fang Tian was looking at the message, Xia Wei continued venting: “She didn’t leave work, so I couldn’t leave either. Look at the stuff written on this, and also, I had to tag along with her to a business dinner tonight…”
Xia Wei practically recounted everything that had happened throughout the day.
She spoke faster and faster, getting more and more indignant, until her voice rose by half an octave at the end: “You tell me, am I an assistant or a driver? Does she think of me as her personal maid?”
Fang Tian listened quietly on the other end, then suddenly chuckled.
“What are you laughing at?” Xia Wei asked, dissatisfied.
“I’m laughing at you,” Fang Tian said. “Do you know how long it’s been since you’ve talked this much in one breath?”
Xia Wei froze.
“Before, you used to mope at home all day long. When I invited you out you wouldn’t go, and when I called you’d just go ‘uh-huh’, ‘oh’, ‘okay’, hanging up in three sentences. Today you ranted at me for nearly twenty minutes—listen to how full of vitality your voice sounds right now.”
Xia Wei opened her mouth to retort, but found that she indeed seemed… quite energetic, though it was out of anger.
“So,” Fang Tian pressed her advantage while the iron was hot, “you really can’t quit this job.”
“Why on earth should I?” Xia Wei rolled over onto her side, sweeping her hair back.
“Because you look like a living person right now,” Fang Tian’s tone grew serious. “You think your director is hard to deal with, but don’t you realize—once you get busy, you won’t have time to dwell on those messy thoughts.”
Xia Wei fell silent.
Of course she knew what “those messy thoughts” that Fang Tian mentioned referred to: her ex, the breakup. Those half-year periods of depression, locking herself in her room without seeing anyone.
“And besides, you said she made you drive, made you tag along to the dinner, made you do this and that—” Fang Tian paused, “Have you ever thought that this shows she trusts you?”
“Trust my foot, she just lacked someone to boss around.” When Xia Wei said this, the conversation between Sister Ming and Song Qiao flashed through her mind.
Was the person they spoke of who had a “better path” the previous assistant predecessor?
“If she lacked someone to boss around, why didn’t she look for someone else instead of specifically picking you? Didn’t you say she even asked if you ate and drove you back home? That shows she isn’t a completely un-empathetic boss after all.”
Xia Wei was choked up once more, as she visualized that hand resting on the lazy Susan, turning the dish she hadn’t been able to reach right back in front of her, along with those tired yet very bright eyes.
Tonight’s dinner banquet didn’t require her to go inside at all, nor did Song Qiao need her; it seemed she really had just gone inside purely to chow down.
Even though she herself was very tired, she had still driven her back.
“Don’t try to gaslight me… actually, she…” Xia Wei was arguing verbally, but the balance in her heart had already begun tilting toward Song Qiao.
Before Xia Wei could finish her sentence, Fang Tian spoke as if she had made up some sort of mind: “How about this.”
“Stick with it for half a year. If you still want to quit after half a year, I’ll treat you to a trip out—anywhere you want to go, plane tickets and hotels are on me.”
“Really?” Xia Wei’s eyes lit up, swallowing all the words she was about to say back down her stomach, though she immediately grew suspicious: “When did you get so generous?”
“I’ll buy you that action figure too,” Fang Tian added. “That limited edition one you’ve been whining about for several years and never dared to buy.”
Xia Wei abruptly sat straight up from the bed: “Are you serious?”
“Serious. But under one condition—you have to stick it out for a full half year. Not a single day less.” Fang Tian’s tone carried a smile. “If you bail halfway, you get nothing.”
Xia Wei clutched her phone, her heartbeat accelerating. She had been eyeing that action figure for three whole years, quietly closing the window every time she saw its second-hand market price. Half a year… half a year didn’t seem that long either.
“And just think about it,” Fang Tian continued painting a rosy picture, “half a year from now will be autumn. We’ll take a leave of absence, find a beach to lie down on—how wonderful that’ll be. If you quit right now, you’ll just fall right back into that previous state of yours, staying cooped up at home all day, and auntie will start nagging you again.”
Xia Wei recalled Zhou Ci saying earlier today, “If it’s too much, don’t do it, mom will support you,” feeling a softness and a sting in her heart.
“Fine.” She gritted her teeth, “Half a year.”
“Deal then, I’m recording this, don’t you go back on your word.”
“What are you recording…”
“Already saved.” Fang Tian let out a laugh, “Alright, go to sleep early. Tomorrow at nine you still have to go buy coffee for your female-devil boss; morning coffee shops get super crowded.”
Hanging up the phone, Xia Wei placed her phone beside her pillow and stared up at the ceiling. She didn’t want the people who cared about her to worry anymore.
Fang Tian, her mother—they all hoped she could walk out of it.
Half a year.
She rolled over, pulled the quilt over herself, and conjured up the image of Song Qiao’s eyes in the rearview mirror from tonight.
Calm, tired, yet very bright.
Whatever, consider it doing it just to trick that cheapskate Fang Tian.
Just as Xia Wei closed her eyes, the next second she bounced right back up from the bed—she still hadn’t dried her hair, and grandma had always said that if you don’t take good care of your body now, you’ll suffer terribly when you’re old.