Chapter 3

It wasn’t until they stepped out of the elevator that Wen Xin’s heartbeat finally began to steady.

She had studied design in college and done reasonably well. After graduation, she had landed a job at a private firm as a cultural and creative product designer, sticking with it for two years. Then the company folded, and through an introduction from a friend, she moved to her previous employer, pouring another three years of her youth into it.

Had it not been for that incident a little while back, she figured she’d still be there, chugging along. The pay wasn’t great, but the office was close to home, holidays rarely meant overtime, and with such a small department of mostly quiet colleagues, she could skip the pointless socializing whenever she wanted.

Wen Xin had been there so long that her days blurred into sketching designs, building models, and the occasional outing to check out exhibitions or scout the market. Beyond using her brain, hands, and eyes, there wasn’t much need for talking.

Over time, her already lackluster speaking skills had withered even further.

That might have been the spark that got her fired. The economy had been rough the past couple of years, and while big players like Qi Qing thrived, smaller outfits were feeling the pinch. Their company was no exception. After struggling for ages, they finally resorted to layoffs.

As one of the two least senior people in the department, Wen Xin’s position was precarious. Fortunately, the projects she’d handled lately had turned out well, so by ability alone, she should have been safer than the other newbie.

Yet she was the one who got the axe. For a whole month, Wen Xin had racked her brain trying to figure it out, eventually chalking it up to her poor communication skills and lack of polish in dealing with people. Then a somewhat kindhearted colleague had clued her in: her rival was the department manager’s brother-in-law.

…

Regardless, her awkwardness with words was an undeniable fact. So before starting this new job, she’d learned her lesson the hard way and scoured the internet for high-EQ scripts to handle common workplace chit-chat. It had worked fine enough.

But it didn’t cover whatever had just happened back there.

Wen Xin furtively touched her ear—it was still burning. The sensation of Shi Qianyu’s fingertip lingered, as vivid as ever even after all this time.

In the moment, she hadn’t known what to say. She’d hemmed and hawed before blurting out, “I-Is it?”

Shi Qianyu just smiled without replying, gently withdrawing her hand. At last, she let Wen Xin off the hook. “Let’s go.”

Wen Xin let out a breath of relief and hurried to catch up with her.

They’d only just passed the Lesser Heat solar term, but the outdoor temperature was already pushing forty degrees Celsius. Luckily, the restaurant Shi Qianyu had mentioned was nearby. Sticking to the sliver of shade under the eaves, they arrived quickly.

Shi Qianyu had apparently reserved a private room ahead of time. Even for a simple lunch, she was eating with utmost refinement. She didn’t drink sodas, so she’d brought her own tea, handing the leaves to the server before fetching the menu and passing it to Wen Xin.

“Take a look and see what you’d like.”

“Okay.” Wen Xin nodded obediently and flipped through it. Dining with the boss, she couldn’t order nothing, but she didn’t want to overdo it either. After some comparison, she settled on two dishes.

A cold appetizer and a veggie stir-fry—the most budget-friendly options on the menu.

“Wen Xin, going this light in a Sichuan restaurant? Something on your mind?” Shi Qianyu seemed a touch exasperated. She took back the menu and promptly added several hot dishes, all the restaurant’s signatures.

“There are just two of us. We won’t finish all that,” Wen Xin couldn’t help pointing out, her frugal instincts kicking in. “It’d be a waste.”

“No, it won’t. I’m starving today.” Shi Qianyu sighed dramatically. “Is my big sister really so stingy she won’t spend this on me? Fine, I’ll cover the bill.”

What on earth?

Wen Xin regretted it deeply. It was all because she’d been tipsy that night and insisted Shi Qianyu call her “sister.” Now it had become ammunition—Shi Qianyu teased her with it endlessly, at every opportunity.

A shiver ran through Wen Xin, like a thousand ants crawling over her skin. Shi Qianyu was stunningly beautiful; no one could withstand her playing cute like that. Except she was the boss.

“Director Shi, please don’t tease me,” Wen Xin said, her cheeks heating up. Just then, the server brought over freshly brewed tea. She lowered her gaze, pretending to sip while stealing glances at Shi Qianyu’s expression. “Everything I said that night was drunken nonsense—it doesn’t count. Don’t take it seriously. If I offended you, I apologize. You’re magnanimous; please forgive me.”

“From now on, we’ll just be a normal boss and subordinate. Let’s pretend nothing ever happened and move on…”

It was rare for her to rattle off so much in one go.

Shi Qianyu stayed silent for a long stretch. Not knowing what she was thinking, Wen Xin waited and waited but got no response. She finally lifted her head a fraction higher, sneakily gauging Shi Qianyu’s mood.

To her surprise, Shi Qianyu was mimicking her posture, teacup in hand and rim poised at her lips. But unlike Wen Xin, she seemed wary of the heat. Right then, she was pursing her lips and blowing gently, trying to cool the liquid.

One puff, two… Bored out of her mind, Wen Xin silently counted in her head. It took until the seventh or eighth before Shi Qianyu finally took a slow sip.

She set down the cup and raised her head.

Wen Xin felt inexplicably tense. Those words had come out rather gravely; she worried Shi Qianyu might take offense or scold her outright. Her heart was in her throat.

Then Shi Qianyu blinked, looking puzzled. “Huh? Did you say something just now?”

“I was lost in thought and missed it.” She smiled easily, grabbing a wet wipe from beside her to clean her hands. Her expression and tone were as casual as ever. “Was it important? Mind repeating?”

…

An awkward silence descended.

After a moment, Wen Xin slowly shook her head. “No, it’s nothing. Forget it.”

The saying went that you strike while the iron is hot—strong on the first try, weaker on the second, and done for on the third. But for Wen Xin, there was no second try; it was straight to exhausted. Heaven only knew how much courage those words had cost her.

Right on cue, the server arrived with the first plates. Shi Qianyu didn’t press further and simply spun the lazy Susan, sliding the meat dishes toward Wen Xin’s side.

“Let’s eat,” she said softly.

~~~

The portions at this restaurant weren’t large—which was probably a blessing. Wen Xin eyed the plates in front of her and relaxed. Good; with some effort, they could polish it all off without waste.

Shi Qianyu grew noticeably quieter over the meal, as if determined to focus. Unfortunately, a few urgent work calls came in, and she had to take them.

Wen Xin, by contrast—a lowly employee with no parents or friends to bother her—faced no such interruptions. She savored every bite.

It had been ages since she’d had Sichuan food this good.

Most of her childhood memories had faded, including how many times her family had moved. But she remembered one particular city where the Sichuan cuisine was incredible—unique flavors that had the young, gluttonous Wen Xin begging her parents to take her whenever they had time.

Until they moved again.

She’d thought about going back these past few years, but her memory was too fuzzy; she couldn’t recall the exact spot. Eventually, she’d given up.

Come to think of it, this place tasted remarkably similar.

“Full?” Shi Qianyu had finished her calls without Wen Xin noticing. Seeing her lost in thought, she reached out and flicked her forehead.

Wen Xin jumped, blurting out in a louder voice than intended, “Hey, what was that for!”

“Nice and loud.” Shi Qianyu laughed, her eyes crinkling like a beautiful, haughty cat. “You’re getting feisty with me.”

“I wasn’t.” Realizing her tone, Wen Xin dropped back to normal volume. “Yeah, I’m full.”

“Then let’s head back—it’s about time for work.” Shi Qianyu wiped her hands and, at some point, produced two mints from her bag, handing one to Wen Xin. “Wait for me; I’ll go settle the bill.”

“Okay.” Wen Xin nodded and followed her downstairs. The restaurant boss happened to be free and was lecturing his staff, looking all stern—until he spotted Shi Qianyu. His furrowed brow instantly smoothed.

“Director Shi, you’re here.” They clearly knew each other well. Wen Xin hung back and couldn’t catch the details, but she overheard him offering to comp the meal.

Shi Qianyu naturally refused, brushing it off with some excuse.

“See you.” She insisted on paying at the front desk, then called to Wen Xin as they left. Mindful of the bill, Wen Xin pulled out her phone and transferred the money via app before they even reached the door.

Shi Qianyu didn’t rush to check it. They walked back to the office side by side and rode the elevator up.

“The food okay today?” Shi Qianyu asked casually, as if making small talk.

“Really good,” Wen Xin replied honestly.

“Alright, that’s good.” Shi Qianyu nodded, saying nothing more. As soon as she fell silent, an awkward tension filled the confined space of the elevator.

Wen Xin couldn’t bear the quiet. After a few seconds, she murmured, “Director Shi, are you close with that restaurant’s boss?”

No sooner had she spoken than Shi Qianyu turned her gaze sideways to look at her.

Wen Xin thought she’d chosen the wrong topic and hastily turned her head back to stare at her own feet. That morning on her way to work, she’d marveled at how fast the elevator ran. Now, though, she was inwardly grumbling that it was moving too slowly.

Fortunately, Shi Qianyu spoke up quickly. “We’re pretty close. I used to eat at his place all the time. One year, his business hit a rough patch, and I happened to have some spare cash on hand, so I helped him out a bit.”

“I see.” Wen Xin nodded mechanically. “Director Shi is beautiful and kind-hearted.”

With that, the elevator finally dinged to a stop on the right floor.

By now, most of the colleagues who had gone out for lunch had returned. Wen Xin didn’t want anyone else spotting her in the elevator with Shi Qianyu, so she slipped away like greased lightning.

Before she dashed off, though, she didn’t forget to remind Shi Qianyu, “Don’t forget to collect the money.”

“Got it.” Shi Qianyu acknowledged her and stepped leisurely out of the elevator. She watched until Wen Xin vanished from sight before pulling out her phone and opening Wen Xin’s WeChat chat.

Wen Xin had rounded it up for her, transferring an extra seventy cents.

Shi Qianyu shook her head. She’d added Wen Xin on WeChat too hastily at lunch and hadn’t had a chance to set a nickname. Now she finally had the time.

Wen Xin’s profile was as prim and proper as she was—a landscape photo for her avatar and her full name as the display.

Rather than tapping to accept the payment, Shi Qianyu navigated to Wen Xin’s profile page and opened the nickname field. She slowly deleted the original two characters.

After pondering for a moment, she settled on a new name for her.

【Little Heartless.】

—To pay her back for those words she’d tossed out at the dinner table.