The Early Spring - Chapter 8

Chapter 8 - Always Hard, Occasionally Soft

Shang Zhitao pushed the door open and walked in, believing her posture carried a somewhat imposing aura. Yet the moment she entered, she saw Luan Nian beaming brightly as he spoke on the phone. Seeing Shang Zhitao holding a folder, he simply pointed at the desk, signaling her to put it down.

Her imposing momentum instantly wilted, though she was still beating a small drum in her heart—the moment he opened fire, she would pound the battle drums right back. Every single one of her little thoughts was written plainly across her face, appearing to Luan Nian like absolute mental deficiency.

Yet he smiled at Shang Zhitao for a split second—an indifferent, casual smile—and pressed a single finger against his lips, making a shushing motion.

Shang Zhitao was left somewhat dazed and confused. She walked over, set the folder down, and heard him say in a gentle, soft-spoken tone, "Then I'd be honored to have dinner together this weekend. The concert you mentioned wanting to see last time—I had someone pull strings to get two tickets."

With one hand holding the phone, he used the other to open the folder, beginning to read from the very first page.

From the other end of the phone came a woman's crisp, melodic laughter: "Am I being given special treatment by you?"

"It's my absolute honor." Luan Nian read through the documents while talking on the phone, paying zero attention to Shang Zhitao standing right there.

Shang Zhitao felt rather awkward. Last time it was a breakup; this time it was a date. Oh my goodness, when it rains, it really pours. The moment he had said he wanted to change people, she had walked right into his line of fire. She felt as though she had inadvertently overheard far too many of Luan Nian's secrets, and if this kept up, he certainly wouldn't tolerate her presence. Thus, she reached out and waved her hand in front of him, pointing toward the door to convey: Should I head out?

Luan Nian cast a brooding glance her way, saying neither yes nor no. Shang Zhitao had no choice but to stand there and listen to him talk on the phone. The damned speed at which his fingers flipped through the documents was painfully slow, making every second feel like a year to Shang Zhitao. She looked out the window, where the lights of the opposite office building had already dimmed by half, then stole a glance at her watch. The last bus had already departed; tonight, she would have to enjoy the company's taxi-fare welfare.

"Then I'll come pick you up tomorrow evening. I've booked a restaurant, let's grab dinner first." Luan Nian finally hung up the phone and began reviewing the project documents in earnest. Sitting there reading documents without saying a word made the wait excruciating for Shang Zhitao.

Yet the most agonizing part wasn't even that, but the fact that Luan Nian was stalling on signing, acting as if he were reading the document for the very first time. When he finally reached the signature line on the last page, a spark of joy bloomed in Shang Zhitao's heart—only for Luan Nian to ask, "What is the total expenditure for this project?"

"Seventy-four hundred thousand."

"Accurate to two decimal places."

Shang Zhitao blinked, frozen. She had no idea what the figures were to two decimal places; she had merely helped Lumi get Luan Nian to sign a document, glancing over the paperwork and total amount before entering without committing the exact decimals to memory.

"Seventy-four point one three hundred thousand." Luan Nian settled back into his chair. "Next time before you communicate about work with anyone—especially me—make sure you've looked through every single detail clearly, or else we're changing people."

Next time? So he wasn't changing people this time?

Shang Zhitao suddenly felt that this man's personality was truly bizarre. Wasn't he the one who had typed out the words "change people" on the internal chat software just moments ago? Was someone else operating his computer?

All of Shang Zhitao's thoughts were written right on her face, and Luan Nian could read them at a single glance. Stupid beyond all remedy. Had Zhang Ling and Tracy lost their minds? Were they afraid their team was moving too fast, so they recruited such a dead weight?

With a swift stroke of his pen, he signed his name and handed the folder back to Shang Zhitao.

She took it and said earnestly, "Then I leave the rest to you."

"Leave what to me?"

"The wrap-up work for these projects. Please guide me through it."

Luan Nian wasn't the least bit surprised to hear her say that. She was the kind of person who could write "Luke advised me to change jobs" directly into her interview feedback log—what couldn't she do?

"I've saved your number in the internal directory, but my personal phone system hasn't logged it yet. I'm calling you right now, please save it. In case of any emergencies, I'll call you." Blasting through her words in one breathless stream, Shang Zhitao took out her phone and dialed Luan Nian. She had figured it out: she wasn't going to be afraid of him anymore. Since things had already started off this terribly, the absolute worst-case scenario was that he fired her. What was there to fear? At worst, she'd just start over from scratch!

She placed the call and waited for Luan Nian to mock her, but to her surprise, he picked up his phone and asked, "How do you write your name?"

"Shang as in lofty and noble [Shang], Zhi as in the classical particle [Zhi], and Tao as in peach blossoms [Tao]."

"English name?"

"Flora."

Luan Nian saved Shang Zhitao's number, placed his phone back on the desk, and said, "Flora Shang, anything else?"

"Nope. Have a great weekend."

Shang Zhitao picked up the folder, strode quickly out of Luan Nian's office, and walked back to her workstation to let out a long breath of relief. Her first week of work was finally over. It seemed terribly difficult, yet somehow manageable. Unable to articulate her exact feelings, Shang Zhitao sat quietly at her desk for a while, sorting out her tangled emotions before standing up to leave the office.

She desperately needed a good night's sleep; the turbulence and chaos of this week had left her feeling exhausted only at this exact moment. Standing at the entrance of the company trying to flag down a taxi, she waited for ages without a single empty cab passing by. Across the street, a drunken man let out a whistle in her direction, instantly reminding her of the joke about prostitutes, clients, and advertising folks her colleague had mentioned on day one, sending a shiver of terror through her.

Driving past, Luan Nian spotted the drunk across the street and Shang Zhitao shivering on the roadside like a pitiful, abandoned puppy. He sighed, stepped on the brakes, reversed his car right up in front of Shang Zhitao, rolled down the window, and asked, "Where to?"

Seeing Luan Nian, Shang Zhitao looked at him as if he were her savior. Rather than being harassed by a drunk, she'd take Luan Nian's sarcasm any day. She pulled open the door and hopped inside. "I can't get a cab. Could you drop me off at a busier district?"

"As if you can catch one in a busy district," Luan Nian retorted.

Shang Zhitao had no concept of just how difficult it was to hail a cab on the streets of Beijing at midnight. Her face flushed. "But I live a bit far away, I'm sorry to trouble you."

"You're sorry to trouble me, yet you got in my car?" Luan Nian hated such strange formalities. What was there to be formal about?

Shang Zhitao genuinely wanted to hit him.

In her brief twenty-two years of life, she had never encountered such a bizarre specimen, but sitting right here in his car, she felt a sudden loss of confidence.

She forced a grin at Luan Nian, her mouth stretching into an awkward smile.

Hehe.

Truly bizarre.

"Where are you going?" Luan Nian didn't plan on exchanging pleasantries and asked directly.

"North Fifth Ring. Much obliged!" Having spent a week hanging out with Lumi, Shang Zhitao had already mastered the core essence of Beijing slang.

Without wasting another word on her, Luan Nian started the engine. His car smelled pleasantly of a refreshing men's cologne that instantly invigorated Shang Zhitao's mind. Not knowing what small talk to make with Luan Nian—fearing that a wrong word would make him scare her again—she tightly sealed her lips and looked out the car window. The city had shed its daytime clamor, and even the street vendors operating at night were quiet. After what felt like an indefinite stretch of time, she heard Luan Nian speak: "Do you know the way?"

"Huh?"

Luan Nian glanced at her and pulled the car right over to the side of the road. "Guide the way. Can you do that?"

Having moved in only a few days ago and possessing a terrible sense of direction, Shang Zhitao was completely stumped by Luan Nian's question. She peered out the window at surroundings that felt both unfamiliar and vaguely recognizable, then shook her head blankly. "I'm sorry, I just moved here..."

Luan Nian wasn't surprised in the least. Tapping the car's GPS navigation system, he asked her once more, "Which residential compound?"

Shang Zhitao named the complex, a place Luan Nian had heard of—famed as Beijing's ultimate bedroom community. With her poor brain refusing to factor in time costs, wasn't her salary enough for her to pick a place closer to the company?

Stupid girl.

Mentally cementing his verdict on Shang Zhitao once again, he started the car, dropped her off right at the entrance of the residential compound, and drove off into the distance with a roar of the engine without uttering a single superfluous word.

Shang Zhitao didn't even have time to thank him.

She entered her apartment, finished washing up, and finally crawled into bed, though sleep eluded her. Gripping her phone tightly for a long while, she felt she ought to maintain at least a shred of politeness, so she pulled up Luan Nian's chat and sent him a message: "Thank you, Luke."

Luan Nian didn't reply—of course he wouldn't.

Luan Nian was the epitome of lazy; he despised tedious socializing and ineffective interactions. Having bestowed an act of charity, he expected no gratitude in return.

That was simply the kind of man he was.