Chapter 24 Part 1

On Monday, Lin Xuqing drove the car back to the office park, slowed down, and pulled to a stop.

“Morning, Little Lin,” Jiang Xuezi said when she spotted her, waving a hand.

Lin Xuqing locked the car and handed over the keys. “Sister Xuezi, thank you.”

“Thank me for what? I’m the one who asked you to drive A-Min home in the first place.”

“It’s not about the car.”

“Is it about that phone call I made last Friday night?”

“Not entirely.”

Looking into those clear eyes, Jiang Xuezi was suddenly reminded of something from eight or nine years ago.

Back then, Jiang Min had been swamped with family matters and had no time to visit Mingchuan University, so she’d once asked her to deliver some things to Lin Xuqing.

It was the only time she had ever gone to see Lin Xuqing alone.

At the appointed hour, she spotted from a distance a girl in a white dress sprinting toward her—and the moment she realized Jiang Xuezi had come by herself, disappointment flooded the girl’s eyes.

Jiang Xuezi did her duty, took her out for a meal, chatted with her, but even after telling dozens of jokes, she could barely coax out a smile.

Lin Xuqing just kept her head down, poking at her rice with her chopsticks, looking like she couldn’t manage a single bite.

It wasn’t until Jiang Xuezi asked, “Has A-Min ever told you about our school days?” that Classmate Little Lin’s head snapped up, her eyes lighting up. “What?”

Jiang Xuezi had only said it offhandedly, and seeing that eager expression, she felt a little awkward. She racked her memory for a long while before finally recalling it: one year, right after Spring Festival, her bunkmate below had somehow brought a rooster back from her hometown, and when the dorm supervisor came around for inspections, with nowhere to hide it, she had shoved the bird at Jiang Min.

Jiang Min had no choice but to clutch the rooster on her bed and hide for twenty minutes. The supervisor had been about to leave when, at the very last moment, the rooster let out a crow at full volume. The supervisor went pale with fright and demanded to know what on earth they were doing in that dorm room!

Lin Xuqing laughed so hard she nearly slid off her chair.

Jiang Xuezi went on to share other trivial little details, and Lin Xuqing listened with relish.

In short, it was a side of her that, in all those years, Lin Xuqing had never known.

Later, Jiang Xuezi mentioned a project from junior year that Jiang Min had done with a male senior classmate. As Lin Xuqing listened, her face slowly creased into a frown.

Seeing this, Jiang Xuezi teased, “You little rascal, don’t tell me you think she liked that senior?”

Classmate Little Lin’s expression changed at once. “No! Don’t go saying nonsense like that in front of her.”

Jiang Xuezi stared at her, a faint premonition stirring somewhere in her heart. After a long pause, she nodded solemnly. “All right.”

She kept her word. In all the years since, she had never breathed a word of it. If the people involved weren’t willing to admit something, she was willing to understand, and to respect that.

Only… sometimes she couldn’t help wondering whether this wasn’t just a little too bitter for them.

Until last night.

She didn’t quite know why she’d brought up that half refrigerator of steamed buns she’d once seen at Jiang Min’s place. Perhaps she simply couldn’t bear to watch them any longer—two people who so clearly cared about each other, yet knew nothing of it.

Jiang Xuezi pulled her thoughts back and changed the subject. “Oh, right. Yesterday I asked A-Min about what happened the night before, and somehow I hit a nerve. She got all flustered and angry and said I wasn’t allowed to ask. Then she insisted she couldn’t possibly be doing any better, and that we were making a mountain out of a molehill.”

“She’s always like that,” Lin Xuqing said with a helpless smile. She probably had a good idea why Jiang Min was upset. After a moment’s thought, she added, “Maybe it’s better not to bring it up.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t say a word.”

Jiang Xuezi watched her with a smile, letting her eyes say the rest—that phone call that night, everything that had happened, she would never breathe a word of it to Jiang Min.

Lin Xuqing felt the kindness behind it and said once more, “Sister Xuezi, thank you.”

No matter the moment, Jiang Xuezi was always gentle and accepting, always measured in how she advanced or retreated, like a spring breeze and fine rain, tenderly caring for the people around her.

Lin Xuqing had always been grateful to her.

Jiang Xuezi looked her in the eye and said, earnestly, “A-Min is the best friend I’ve ever had in this life.”

“I want her to be happy. I want her to be blessed.”

“So I don’t want to watch someone endlessly taking and taking from her kindness. I’d much rather see people being good to her—of course, in ways she can accept.”

Her words weren’t spelled out plainly, but Lin Xuqing understood. “I…”

“All right, hurry off now. A-Min didn’t come in this morning, but that’s no excuse for us to be late. After all, I’m the Head Housekeeper—when she’s away, attendance falls to me.”

“Where is she today?”

“Giving her work report to President Jian.”

“I see…”

Lin Xuqing relaxed. She’d been worried Jiang Min was unwell again. So it was just work. No wonder she hadn’t gone home to rest last Friday.

Come to think of it, she had never actually met this President Jian. She had no idea what kind of person she might be.

“Miss Jiang, President Jian is still in a meeting. Please wait a moment.”

“Of course. Thank you.”

Jian Yanping’s reception room was on the twenty-third floor, flooded with light, with a wide-open view.

Jiang Min stood at the floor-to-ceiling window, gazing out at Mingchuan Bridge.

The Magazine Office where Ning Rou worked was nearby too. That afternoon, Jiang Min had an appointment with the Editor-in-Chief of the magazine to discuss an interview piece from a previous collaboration. At noon, she planned to have lunch with Ning Rou.

Jian Yanping was slow in arriving.

But Jiang Min wasn’t pressed for time today, so she didn’t mind waiting. What worried her more was how Jian Yanping would respond.

The last work plan had been rough; this time she was reporting on a more refined direction, and she had no idea whether Jian Yanping would approve.

Just before eleven, the door to the reception room opened from outside.

“President Jian.” Jiang Min rose to greet her, offering her hand.

“Jiang Min, it’s been a while again,” Jian Yanping said, smiling as she looked her over. “What coffee would you like?”

“No need, thank you. Your secretary already poured me some tea.”

Jiang Min studied the poised, beautiful woman before her, not relaxing in the slightest because of the other’s affability.

She remembered the secrets she’d heard years ago. It was said that President Jian had been forced into an arranged marriage by her family when she was young—but somehow, the marriage never happened. The intended groom leapt to his death, and the father and brothers who had coerced her were pushed into retirement, leaving the vast Jian Corporation in her hands.

Outside opinions of Jian Yanping had never been kind—words like ruthless, black-hearted, and viper-tongued were all in circulation.

Still, one had to admit that President Jian had been quite tolerant of her, and very supportive of her work.

“Go ahead. How have things been lately?”

“The project I reported to you last time is basically finished.”

“Finished? That project wasn’t easy, was it?”

“No, there were quite a few twists along the way. The first draft is still being revised.”

Jian Yanping raised an eyebrow, seemingly uninterested. “And your plans for after the new year?”

Jiang Min noted the micro-expression and pressed on. “The homeless community we filmed this time was mostly men, but during the shoot we met a divorced woman—we call her Sister Song. She has a record for striking back at her abusive husband, and she runs a barbecue restaurant here in Mingchuan. It was with her help that we were able to get close to that community at all.”

Jian Yanping remained indifferent. “Send me the video later, then.”

Jiang Min stole a discreet glance at her.

Remembering the rumors about this President Jian, she found herself instinctively wondering which sentence had piqued her interest.

With that opening made, Jiang Min continued. “As I reported before, I took on this project purely because the funding was reasonably substantial. Personally, I have no interest in this kind of male-centered narrative. In the second half of the video, our storytelling logic will revolve around Sister Song.”

“And once this project is done, what’s the plan for next year?”

“So for the filming after the new year, I’d like to focus more on female-centered narratives. That may limit the government projects we can take on. Of course, if suitable charity projects come up, we’ll still compete for them, and any commercial collaborations with public benefit and positive externalities, we’ll still do.”

Jian Yanping tilted her head and let out a soft laugh. “Not worried the netizens will tear into you for profiting off gender politics?”

“I don’t care,” Jiang Min said, her gaze steady. “I’ve always believed that the only thing a creator needs to do is express themselves sincerely.”

All the rest of the noise, she didn’t concern herself with.

As for why she was reporting to Jian Yanping at all—it was because if they started being picky about projects, it could bring further financial strain. Lingyin was already surviving on a knife’s edge.

She needed Jian Yanping’s support.

Jian Yanping nodded slowly, as if thinking it over. “I look forward to your results. But everyone’s time and energy are precious.”

Jiang Min nodded. “I understand. Thank you, President Jian.”

This was a willingness to give her a chance to try—but with the unspoken condition that she stake her reputation on delivering.

She hadn’t expected to convince Jian Yanping in one meeting anyway. After all, the matter of Jian Ming was something she still hadn’t found the right moment to raise, and sooner or later after the new year she’d have to meet with President Jian again.

Following the usual routine, once the work talk was done, Jiang Min kept Jian Yanping company with some idle chatter.

“Look at that, I didn’t notice the time—it’s already half past twelve,” Jian Yanping said, glancing at the wall clock. “Perfect, let’s head down together.”

Jiang Min pressed the elevator for her, and the two rode down together.

“Do you have lunch plans? Join me.”

“I’m sorry, President Jian,” Jiang Min said, a touch apologetic. “I’ve already arranged to have lunch with Editor-in-Chief Ning Rou from the magazine. She’s the collaborating editor on this project.”

“I see,” Jian Yanping said with a small nod.

When the elevator doors opened, she stepped out first, with Jiang Min following two paces behind—just in time to see Ning Rou, who had probably grown tired of waiting and come up to find her.

“President Jian, that’s Editor-in-Chief Ning.”

Jian Yanping gave a soft acknowledgment, her gaze settling on Ning Rou in the distance.

The heating in the office building was running full blast, and Ning Rou wore a plain-colored qipao, her figure graceful, her curves elegant, her dark hair worn loose, her whole bearing gentle and soft.

Her coat was draped over one arm. Seeing Jiang Min, she smiled warmly.

Jian Yanping asked in a melodious voice, “I seem to remember you mentioning that you two are very close friends?”

Surprised that she even remembered Ning Rou, Jiang Min nodded and smiled toward her.