Shen An silently set down his lunchbox, pulling back the curtain on a two-week “hellish prelude.”
These two weeks were probably the busiest of his life, at least as far back as he could remember.
From Monday to Friday, his classes were packed from dawn till dusk.
Beyond that, he devoted every lunch break and moment after classes without reservation to the Art Troupe—even his weekends weren’t spared.
To be precise, he devoted them to the infuriating Zhao Qingyu!
In short: classes when there were classes, Art Troupe interviews when there weren’t. He headed out at seven-thirty every morning and didn’t get back until at least eleven at night.
His life boiled down to a rigid three-point routine: the apartment, classes, and the Art Troupe.
It was more grueling than slaving away from nine in the morning to nine at night, six days a week.
And gradually, he realized that Zhao Qingyu’s so-called “simple task” was anything but simple.
First off, after Zhao Qingyu became Deputy Troupe Leader, she had completely disbanded the Office’s roster.
By all rights, every department should retain at least a couple of members from the previous year—enough to fill the roles of head and deputy head.
Given the Art Troupe’s size and structure—mirroring the other departments and Performance Groups—even without any freshmen yet, each department should have had four or five holdovers.
Typically, that meant a head and deputy plus veteran members, or one head with several deputies.
So before Shen An joined, the Office had consisted solely of Zhao Qingyu and Qi Taili.
Strictly speaking, Zhao Qingyu was the Deputy Troupe Leader, superior to the Office, while Qi Taili’s main role was Group Leader of the Singing Group; her stint as Office head was just a temporary gig.
Thus, once Shen An came on board, he was the Office’s only official working member.
But one person was still a person!
Now Shen An finally understood the meaningful look that Organization Department head Xu Ling had given him back then.
Though the Office roster had been disbanded, the work still needed doing.
As a result, the Office duties had been temporarily handed off to the Organization Department.
Now that Shen An had joined the Office, Xu Ling—eyes brimming with grateful tears—had dumped all the original Office responsibilities onto him as well.
No wonder Xu Ling had been so eager. She’d found the perfect patsy.
And that patsy was him.
So Shen An wasn’t just handling interviews; he was also managing communications, coordination, and all the Office admin work.
As for this so-called “private secretary” title, it was utterly useless—just a fancy name. Shen An figured “ultimate workhorse” suited it better.
But hardship forged brilliance! Shen An wasn’t without gains.
Amid the frantic two-week hustle, he quickly built connections with all seven groups and five departments of the Art Troupe—befriending quite a few senior sisters in the process.
The relentless workload had propelled massive strides in his social circle.
He was a quick study to begin with, swiftly grasping the ins and outs. Day one felt a bit awkward; by day two, he was handling everything like a pro.
Coupled with his phenomenal memory, Shen An single-handedly kept the entire Office running.
Shockingly, over those two weeks, there wasn’t a single slip-up—every task executed flawlessly.
He was handsome to boot, and good-looking guys were always popular.
But a capable, handsome guy? Irresistible.
Shen An tackled the heavy, tedious workload without a single complaint. He had a warm heart too, never turning down requests from others. He went above and beyond, lightening the load for the regular departments countless times.
By the end, the other senior sisters trusted him enough to leave the interviews entirely in his hands.
Well…
It was trust, sure—but also a chance for them to slack off.
All in all, after two weeks of tireless effort, Shen An had fully integrated into the Art Troupe. His stellar work ethic and enthusiastic, witty personality had won him heaps of praise and goodwill.
Even Ye Xin, the Publicity Department head who’d given him the cold shoulder at first, had done a complete one-eighty.
This gave Shen An a deeper read on Ye Xin’s character.
Her stern, rigid demeanor matched her first impression perfectly, but she was incredibly diligent—responsible to a fault, with a hidden soft side beneath the icy exterior.
The other department heads occasionally slacked off, offloading work onto Shen An.
Not her, though—not once. She handled everything personally and even bailed Shen An out several times.
As for Zhao Qingyu, Shen An rarely saw her around during those two weeks, and there was no word from her.
When he asked, others just said she was tied up with something.
Shen An suspected she was playing slacker boss, dumping everything on him.
Though being a busy workhorse wasn’t fun, Shen An secretly enjoyed his status as the Art Troupe’s social butterfly at times.
And he was certain his displayed competence would earn even more trust from Zhao Qingyu.
In other words, he’d get more chances to get close to her.
His importance to her would extend beyond being just a “pawn on the board.”
So even without her showing up, Shen An wasn’t anxious at all.
It was like fishing.
You had to be patient to land the big one.
Rushing to show off or prove himself in front of her right away would backfire.
The perfect scheme was one no one even noticed was a scheme.
His “capable but obedient junior” persona was playing out flawlessly so far.
That summed up the Art Troupe work side of things.
Next: his personal relationships over those two weeks.
Chen Nannan was just as swamped as he was. As head of a major department, the pressure on her shoulders dwarfed his.
They barely had a chance for private meetups or meals.
At best, they’d bump into each other when Shen An visited the Student Union for a quick chat, or exchange messages in bed after “clocking out” back at the apartment.
Shen An wasn’t in a rush. Letting time brew things might be better.
Especially for a relatively “slow-burn” girl like Chen Nannan.
Xu Yijing’s schedule was even worse. If Chen Nannan was slammed as a department head, then as Student Union Vice President—and a standing committee one at that—Xu Yijing probably didn’t even have time to breathe.
By the time Shen An woke up each day, Xu Yijing was already gone from the apartment.
They only crossed paths when she returned.
And they stuck strictly to their original agreement: just polite hellos, nothing more. Live and let live—she did her thing, he did his.
Classes remained as dull as ever.
Sandwiched between Wang Yuqiong and Song Rui, Shen An had zero chance to doze off.
But he gained Song Rui’s reliable daily wake-up calls—and breakfast runs.
As for the trio’s interviews, Shen An had participated in all of them as an interviewer.
Coincidentally, Wang Yuqiong’s final round had featured only him as interviewer.
For Song Rui and Shen Lianyao, he’d been there as an observer.
Luckily, Shen An had run mock interviews with Song Rui beforehand, sparing the silly girl from freezing up and going speechless.
Of the three, Song Rui was the only one he truly worried about.
Wang Yuqiong and Shen Lianyao’s skills were top-notch; no need for concern.
Any interviewer with eyes wouldn’t pass them up.
Song Rui had his deal with Zhao Qingyu, so entry was guaranteed.
But Shen An didn’t want her screwing up or stumbling—he wanted her to sail through smoothly.
It wasn’t just about saving face; he hated the thought of her being ridiculed.
So when Song Rui, though a bit nervous, handled the questions smoothly overall, Shen An felt a swell of “proud dad” satisfaction.
At least she hadn’t wasted his pre-exam leaks and practice runs.
If she still messed up that badly, he’d be out of options.
A few more days passed, and Shen An finally reached the end.
That night, he lounged comfortably on his bed, multitasking a chat with Song Rui and Wang Yuqiong on his phone.
And tonight was the night the Art Troupe announced interview results.
Both girls were on edge.
Shen An got it, so he kept his responses extra gentle, soothing their nerves.
Song Rui especially.
The poor girl was pacing the balcony, needing his reassurances just to calm down a bit.
But Shen An had already gotten the inside scoop: both had passed.
The only question was whether they’d land their preferred departments.
That was out of his hands; he’d have to wait for the details.
Wang Yuqiong’s top choice was the Office—no backup. She wasn’t leaving herself an out.
Song Rui’s first pick was the Singing Group. She hadn’t fully followed Shen An’s advice during the interview, sneaking in a bit of personal bias.
Her second choice was the Office, as he’d suggested.
First and second choices—it really did sound like filling out college major preferences.
Shen An cracked a joke about it, then got Song Rui’s message.
“Shen An! I passed!!!”
Well…
That excitement felt even more like getting college admissions results.
“Look at your reaction. It’s like you’re even happier than when you got accepted into your dream university.”
Shen An teased, “What’s up? Did the Singing Group take you?”
“No…”
Song Rui’s mood plummeted in an instant.
“I… my second-choice department approved me. I… I’m with the Office now.”
“Really?”
Song Rui silently forwarded the results text to Shen An.
“Awesome! Now the Office won’t just be me handling everything.”
Shen An said, brimming with excitement.
“Mm…”
Song Rui sounded glum.
“Hey, you should’ve seen this coming, right?”
Shen An comforted her. “Besides, the Office is great. I can look out for you. Don’t you want to stick with me?”
“No… I… I do.”
“It’s just… a little disappointing.”
Song Rui let out a sigh. “But hey, I still made it in.”
“Thanks, Shen An… I… let me treat you to dinner!”
“Forget it. You still haven’t paid me back for breakfast.”
“No need… If you won’t let me buy you dinner…”
“Fine, fine. Now can you finally get some rest?”
“Mm, thank you. Really… thank you so much!”
Song Rui kept thanking him over and over. Shen An had to coax her patiently for quite a while before she finally calmed down and went off to bed.
Then he turned to Wang Yuqiong.
“Results out?”
Wang Yuqiong’s reply was flat. “They are.”
“Hey, congrats?”
“I…” Wang Yuqiong hesitated.
“Hm? Don’t tell me you didn’t make it?” Shen An’s brow furrowed slightly.
“No, I passed.”
“Jeez, with all that buildup, you had me worried.”
Shen An grumbled. “If you passed, what’s the problem?”
“But… I got assigned to the Drama Performance Group.”
Shen An: ?????
Wang Yuqiong sent him her results text as well.
Shen An read through it in silence, the corner of his mouth twitching uncontrollably.
Of all things…
She’d actually been placed in the Drama Group.
With Wang Yuqiong’s skills, serving as an Assistant in the Office would have been a breeze for her.
She was even a top contender for the next Office Director—or potentially the Art Troupe Vice Leader.
And yet, here she was, assigned to the Drama Performance Group.
That was her biggest weakness.
She had zero experience in drama performances.
By all logic, there was no way she should have ended up in the Drama Group. If it had been the Model Group, that might have made some sense.
But no—she was in the Drama Group.
In that instant, Zhao Qingyu’s face flashed through Shen An’s mind.
Those fox-like eyes of hers seemed to gleam with sly triumph.
After all, Zhao Qingyu was the Office’s direct superior. She personally decided who joined.
