Jing Yuqi spoke directly into Shu Chi’s ear. Both of them were wearing heeled shoes—Jing Yuqi’s heels even higher, just the right height.
Shu Chi was startled by her words, her gaze as if she were staring at a lunatic.
Jing Yuqi asked, “Why are you looking at me like that?”
It was damn freezing outside, but the indoor heating was cranked high. Jing Yuqi’s coat was being held by her assistant, and her form-fitting fuzzy sweater clung to her hot figure, her ear-grazing highlights striking.
Shu Chi said, “Don’t talk nonsense.”
Jing Yuqi said, “I’m just curious, okay? Hey, why are you blushing?”
Shu Chi wasn’t fair-skinned, so her blushes weren’t easily noticeable unless the light was strong or you were very close.
Shu Chi said, “I’m not.”
Today, since she was out working, Shu Chi had even dressed up a bit and put on a pair of non-prescription glasses for effect before leaving.
Seeing her push up her glasses several times already, Jing Yuqi’s teasing tone turned a bit more serious. “No way? You really hooked up?”
Shu Chi sighed. “Helped Sister Yu deliver a dog and met her.”
Jing Yuqi let out a meaningful “Oh.” She’d known Shu Chi for so many years; she knew this person’s personality inside out.
Not so easily embarrassed or flustered.
Though Shu Chi and she were both factory girls originally, Shu Chi always seemed kind of… slow. Back in their street vendor days, Jing Yuqi had even seen Shu Chi get scammed out of money.
Maybe those years as a mute made her unaccustomed to talking back. Though she’d improved a bit the last few years, it wasn’t by much.
Jing Yuqi asked, “Then why are you blushing? Delivering a dog was love at first sight?”
As Jing Yuqi walked forward with Shu Chi, the receptionist guided them toward the meeting room. Passing Ding Ya, Jing Yuqi even looked at her a couple of extra times.
Thinking: I just knew this was her type, right? She looks so young.
Cute, though. Very cute.
Shu Chi said, “No such thing.”
Not long after Ding Ya and Ying Qixin returned to their cubicles, the department head came hurrying over again.
Ying Qixin asked, “Wasn’t the design for this collaboration already finished? What else is there to handle?”
Ding Ya poured water while looking at her messages. “Seems like they called for me…”
Ying Qixin shrugged. “Since their side brought a lot of people, no harm in going to see.”
Ding Ya asked, “Did the collaborators bring models this time? I only saw four people just now.”
Ying Qixin glanced at her phone. “The Wellpond company doesn’t have super strict role filtering. The boss is still a KOL herself, and the other one, the one with glasses we saw earlier, is the other owner…”
Ying Qixin muttered to herself, “Why does she feel familiar.”
She didn’t dwell on it, turning to ask a colleague in the row of cubicles behind them, “Did they say who’s shooting?”
“Little Zheng went over just now. Ding Ya, you should go too.”
Ding Ya gave a sound of acknowledgment.
Recent role optimizations meant a lot of personnel changes. Couldn’t be helped. Ding Ya didn’t find it troublesome; she grabbed her badge and headed out.
The photo studio was in Building B. As Shu Chi walked over, following the people sent by the partner company, she overheard snippets of introductions.
Negotiating business was always Jing Yuqi’s domain. As the company grew, these matters basically didn’t need Shu Chi’s involvement.
Generally, things only crossed Shu Chi’s desk when actual work was about to begin—the boss approves, preparations start. No complicated processes.
Shu Chi was purely here today to pad the headcount, plus Jing Yuqi’s earnest insistence that this collaboration was a major undertaking, and as an owner, she was duty-bound to participate.
Also, most of our models are sweet types. Only you aren’t sweet, so you’d be a perfect match with Mu Ling.
When Ding Ya arrived, the models were already getting ready. After checking in with her colleagues, it was just light work, lending a hand as needed.
Photography and makeup were all brought in-house by Wellpond. At first glance, the whole studio was as bustling as their own company.
A colleague told Ding Ya, “They just need to keep one of our people here.”
Ding Ya said, “Oh.”
This was practically no different from openly slacking off. She hung her badge and stood to the side watching.
This collaboration included shoes, apparel, and bags. The styling was simple, but there were many outfits to change into.
Ding Ya watched as Shu Chi finished changing and came out, standing to let the makeup artist do her work.
They were somewhat far apart, but that didn’t stop Ding Ya from sizing her up from head to toe. Plenty of others were watching anyway.
After arranging the scene, a colleague asked Ding Ya, “Do you need to write the internal team log for this? You wrote the last promotion piece too, right?”
Ding Ya replied, “The intern wrote it, I edited it.”
They were in different positions, but overtime was the norm at this company. Even with interns, it wasn’t much easier.
Besides, during workforce optimization, one person could end up doing several people’s jobs. No wonder outgoing colleagues called the company a mom-and-pop shop.
The colleague laughed. “Tough work. Anyway, you’ll still need to write the details after this. The finished products are hanging over there—you can look for inspiration.”
“The department head mentioned it to me as well.”
Ding Ya nodded.
This season’s theme was minimalist, focused on showcasing the clothes’ design and texture.
Ding Ya had seen plenty of models from partner companies at her office. In this industry, looks and temperament were all uniquely outstanding. Yet right now, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from Shu Chi.
How is her waist so slim?
Even with the trench coat’s belt hanging that loose, you could still tell.
She even looks great in a headband, huh?
This wig suits her face well too. Long hair seems to make her look gentler.
Though Shu Chi hadn’t done studio shoots in years, she made no mistakes working with professional models.
Under the flashbulbs, her face remained mostly expressionless, fitting perfectly with this quarter’s clothing aesthetic.
During duo shots, her aura was totally different from the model’s, creating an interesting contrast.
After several outfit changes, they broke for halftime. Shu Chi removed her headband.
The model she was working with was someone she’d met before—a big-name affiliate Jing Yuqi specially invited, basically heavy artillery with exorbitant appearance fees.
Mu Ling said, “Boss Shu, still a woman of so few words? Do you hate me that much, can’t even spare a chat?”
The other woman was two years younger than Shu Chi, had gotten married this year (Shu Chi attended the wedding), but divorced just a few days ago—fast and furious.
Shu Chi shook her head. “No such thing.”
Mu Ling was closer to Jing Yuqi. Even after sharing several meals with Shu Chi, she’d never managed to really get conversation flowing. She was used to this woman’s disposition by now.
But perhaps people are born with a bit of mischief in them. Shu Chi looked kind of fierce at first glance, but after meeting her a few times, you knew she was a gentle, honest soul. Most people enjoy teasing such sincere types.
Mu Ling reached out to adjust Shu Chi’s wig, but Shu Chi immediately stepped back.
If anyone else did that, Mu Ling might have felt a bit uncomfortable, but Shu Chi was just like that. She could only laugh, pat Shu Chi’s shoulder, and say, “Honestly, pushing me away like that… I’ll be heartbroken, you know.”
Shu Chi replied utterly seriously, “I’m sorry.”
She simply felt having someone touch her hair was too intimate.
Mu Ling waved her off and went to get some fruit.
Ding Ya had just finished talking with the design department folks from Wellpond. Passing by Shu Chi, who was holding a cup of coffee, she greeted her.
Ding Ya said, “We meet again.”
Shu Chi stared at her. Just last night, she had thought they wouldn’t cross paths again. Reality had slapped her in the face remarkably fast.
She hummed in acknowledgment. “You already knew we’d meet again?”
Ding Ya loved wearing dresses to work. Colleagues joked that her skirts never repeated through the whole week.
Shu Chi noticed that today’s skirt had a different hem pattern from yesterday’s. The buckles on her platform shoes were dotted with pearls.
Her feet were so small too.
Ding Ya nodded. “You didn’t expect it, right?”
She smiled, then pulled out her phone to show Shu Chi. “I was actually going to send you the photos.”
Her lock screen was a freshly changed screenshot. She’d gone through a lot of trouble to extract a screenshot of that recycled virtual native dog from an old, shut-down game.
Shu Chi spotted it instantly.
She remained silent, but her mind was like a boiling kettle, the steam screaming at her to ask.
But Ding Ya had already unlocked her phone. She opened her gallery to show Shu Chi. “Here, the pictures the owner sent me. Not retouched yet. What do you think? Aren’t they quite beautiful?”
This one was taken in the lakeside pavilion. They looked distant yet close, with a definite sense of story no matter how you looked at it.
Even someone as habitually obtuse as Shu Chi sensed something unusual.
She recalled the excessive closeness between them last night and pressed her lips together. “Very beautiful.”
Before Ding Ya could speak, Shu Chi added, “You don’t need to send them to me.”
Ding Ya: …
What kind of person is this?! Who does she think she’s snubbing?!
Even in platform shoes, Ding Ya wasn’t much taller. Holding her phone up was somewhat strenuous. This one sentence from the other woman instantly soured her mood.
Just as she was about to turn and leave, Shu Chi reached out and grabbed her wrist.
That faint soap fragrance she’d smelled yesterday washed over Ding Ya’s face again. Shu Chi looked down at her. “Are you angry?”
Ding Ya said, “I’m not.”
She was lying. Her brows were furrowed, her lips pursed, and she wasn’t meeting Shu Chi’s eyes.
Shu Chi didn’t let go of her arm. Ding Ya’s arm was getting sore. She let out a soft, frustrated sound. “What are you doing, still grabbing me?”
Shu Chi took the opportunity to look at her lock screen.
Ding Ya said, “I’m sorry, I thought you were angry.”
She thought: I am angry! But the other person is still the owner of the collaborating company. How am I supposed to say that?
Not far away, Mu Ling, munching on fruit, asked an employee from Wellpond Company, “That girl in the dress… a newcomer at your company?”
The employee shook her head. “No, she’s not. The badge she’s wearing is clearly from the partner company.”
Mu Ling let out an “Oh.” “She seems pretty close with your boss, though. They’re holding hands and all.”
Wellpond Company had a great work environment. Maybe because the owners were both women, they took relatively more into consideration.
Benefits were excellent, and genuinely practical ones at that. Beyond high-end holiday gift boxes, there was also daily-use stuff or bulk cooking oil, rice, and flour.
Cash bonuses in red envelopes weren’t rare either, causing the internal referral intern program to exceed quotas every year.
There wasn’t much distance between the owners and the employees.
Plus, Jing Yuqi seemed lively to the point of death—handling work, love, and everything else, strong as if she could prop up the sky on her own.
The accompanying employee glanced at Shu Chi, who had just released her grip.
At company meetings, Shu Chi also disliked talking. Compared to Jing Yuqi, her presence was faint.
Everyone knew both owners had built the business from scratch. Shu Chi handled some long-standing clients and was away from the office two or three days out of the week.
When she was in, she’d stay until midnight.
Her love life? A total blank. Teased at every annual meeting, yielding zero results every year.
When teased, she showed little emotion, looking like a telephone pole come to life.
Colleagues joking around, when Boss Shu came up, would say, “Very much has a flavor, but you get the feeling she’s the type to just bloom beautifully… alone.”
Never thought Shu Chi could be involved romantically with anyone.
But at this moment, anyone could feel that something was definitely going on between those two.
Mu Ling remarked, “Shu Chi looks so damn stiff, like she’s forcibly stealing a commoner maiden.”
Employee: Miss Mu, you’re still on someone else’s set, could you keep your voice down a bit?!
Ding Ya had originally intended to use the photos to prod Shu Chi’s memory. But she found this person genuinely had a few screws loose mentally. After letting go, she’d come even closer, staring at Ding Ya without saying a word.
Ding Ya thought: She’s not that tall, really. Male models are taller. It’s mostly her eyes that look a little fierce.
Intimidating.
So, back when she’d typed all those sappy words… what expression had she worn?
Could those eyes be tinted with any other emotions?
Ding Ya pursed her lips. “Does Boss Shu have something else to say?”
Ding Ya’s tone wasn’t exactly gentle, but her voice itself was wired that way—even anger sounded like a playful complaint.
Shu Chi’s gaze was too intense, so much so that Ding Ya, meeting her eyes, nearly couldn’t hold steady.
Just as Ding Ya finally couldn’t bear it and was about to walk away, Shu Chi finally asked the question Ding Ya had been hoping she would ask—
“Your… lock screen. That dog. Where is it from?”
