Chapter 26

Right ahead of the deadline Jiang Min had set, the second revised draft of the video was finished.

Yu Sisi and Xu Chun, sporting massive dark circles, each clutching a cup of coffee, looked like people who’d collapse if they had to work one more day.

Jiang Min knew she’d been working them brutally hard lately, and asked jokingly, “Sisi, Sister Chun, you haven’t come to me to expense that coffee yet.”

“Ugh, Sister Min, now that you mention it, I’ve been meaning to ask—can all-nighter coffee be expensed?”

Yu Sisi replied listlessly.

“If Little Lin hadn’t stayed up helping us revise last night, we’d probably have pulled an all-nighter,” Xu Chun said with a yawn, glancing at Lin Xuqing’s still-fresh face. “I have to say, youth really is everything. We all stayed up, but only Little Lin still looks full of energy.”

Yu Sisi moved to add something, then held it back.

Sister Chun had it wrong. “Helping” was a stretch—Lin Xuqing had actually done most of the work herself. Saying it out loud would just be embarrassing.

Lin Xuqing was writing something with her head down. At those words she looked up, her face clean and lovely, without the slightest trace of having stayed up all night.

Xu Chun’s mind started turning. “Little Lin doesn’t have a boyfriend yet, right? Twenty-nine this year? Thirty after the new year, I’d bet.”

Jiang Min froze for a beat.

Come to think of it, all this time, she’d never actually learned anything about Lin Xuqing’s current life. In years past, Ning Rou would occasionally mention a little about her—but only work. Family, personal life—Jiang Min knew nothing at all.

Lin Xuqing shook her head. “No.”

Jiang Min looked at her and thought, Oh… no one.

Xu Chun slapped her thigh, looking mortified. “Ah! It’s all because year-end is so busy—I haven’t looked after you properly. That’s on me, your older sister. Is your family pressuring you? What type do you like? Got your eye on anyone?”

“I…”

Lin Xuqing was stumped by the barrage and genuinely couldn’t answer.

Yu Sisi chimed in cheerfully to play along. “Sister Chun is a Gold-Medal Matchmaker—eight couples set up in a single year! Sister Little Lin, hurry up and grab the chance.”

Xu Chun feigned modesty. “Oh no, no, nothing of the sort. ‘Gold medal’ is too much. But then again…”

Seeing her spiral further and further off the rails, Lin Xuqing hurriedly said, “I’m not thinking about any of that right now. I just want to focus on doing my work well.”

Xu Chun declared her thinking all wrong: “Love and career—grab both! Miss neither!”

“Come, come, come—your big sister has photos on her phone. Let me pick some out for you.”

“Height, build—any requirements? Education? Income?”

Unable to withstand her enthusiasm, Lin Xuqing shot Jiang Min a pleading look.

“Sister Chun.” Jiang Min cleared her throat, cutting her off. “Let’s get back to work. There are still several places in the video that need fixing.”

“Oh… okay, Little Lin, we’ll pick photos later,” Xu Chun said, reminded, and only belatedly remembered they were still in Jiang Min’s office. Two seconds later, it dawned on her what Jiang Min had said about revisions. “Huh? There’s still more to change?”

“Yes. I’ll go through them now—write these down.”

“…Fine.”

Once Jiang Min finished listing her requirements, the Gold-Medal Matchmaker, crushed under the weight of work, forgot all about photos and matchmaking entirely, and left with a sour face.

“Thank you…”

Once she was gone, Lin Xuqing sagged with relief, her whole body relaxing.

Jiang Min shot her a disdainful look.

Utterly hopeless. Couldn’t even handle something this small.

Lin Xuqing read the disdain on her face and couldn’t have cared less. “Did you watch that short promo video?”

The one that had been tacked on at the last minute a few days ago. Xu Chun and Yu Sisi had both been at a loss for ideas, and Lin Xuqing had taken the job on herself again.

“Finished it. Oh, and I forgot to ask just now—which parts did you change in the main video?”

“Uh, I went through the whole thing twice.”

Lin Xuqing scooted her chair a little closer, eyes bright as she looked at her. “So? Is the overall work acceptable?”

Jiang Min found it a little funny.

This person was waiting to be praised. Thank goodness she didn’t have a tail, or it’d be wagging for sure.

Seeing her silence, Lin Xuqing asked again, “Is there something else that needs changing? I’ll do it tonight, I—”

“Sit.” Seeing her about to spring up, Jiang Min pressed her back down. “What’s the rush? I’ll walk you through it.”

“This transition here can be changed.”

“Give this section a scenic cutaway.”

“The closing copy needs another pass.”

Lin Xuqing noted down her comments. She probably hadn’t expected Jiang Min’s revision notes to be so extensive—compared to a moment ago, she seemed a little deflated.

Jiang Min watched her quiet, lovely profile. Only after finishing all her requirements did she add, flatly, “It’s acceptable.”

Lin Xuqing’s pen stilled. Two seconds later, it registered—she’d said the overall work was acceptable, since it was only minor tweaks left.

To hear a word of praise from a perfectionist with terminal OCD—that was no small feat.

Jiang Min pretended not to notice her brightening mood. “Get the revisions done quickly.”

“Okay, understood.” Lin Xuqing walked out hugging her notebook, her steps lighter than usual.

Jiang Min watched her retreating figure and smiled.

So easily pleased. Was one compliment really worth this much joy?

The video side was more or less settled now, but the article Ning Rou had produced left her deeply unsatisfied.

Jiang Min opened the document and saw the dense wall of red comments she’d added down the right side of the screen, and felt a headache coming on.

She’d already communicated with Ning Rou about the writing several times. Ning Rou had revised it over and over, but she was never satisfied. Somehow, the underlying tone of the interview always felt like it was looking down from on high.

The Magazine Office was anxious too, and had sent three or four people over that afternoon for everyone to meet and discuss the revisions—after all, the video and the interview piece needed to share the same core.

When the time came, Jiang Min went downstairs and ran right into Ning Rou’s group arriving. She greeted them. “Let’s use the conference room on the first floor.”

Jiang Min took the seat at the head, with the two core teams seated on either side. Ning Rou sat at her right hand, murmuring to her before the meeting officially began.

“Everyone’s here, and it’s about time. Let’s begin.”

“Let’s go around and hear everyone’s revision suggestions.”

You Hui and Jiang Xuezi spoke first, then Xu Chun and Yu Sisi offered suggestions for their respective sections. Only Lin Xuqing, eyes lowered, said, “I have no revision suggestions.”

Jiang Min was rather surprised.

By rights, Lin Xuqing should have had plenty of ideas.

Once the short meeting ended and the magazine people were seen off, Jiang Min stopped Jiang Xuezi.

“What is it, A-Min? More work for me?”

“Still about the article. I don’t think Ning Rou can… revise it any further. Help me give it a final check too.”

“No problem.”

“Oh, and…” Jiang Min paused, then spoke again. “Have you noticed—ever since Ning Rou arrived this afternoon, that someone has barely said a word?”

Jiang Xuezi asked with a smile, “Which ‘someone’?”

Seeing her play dumb, Jiang Min snapped back, none too pleased, “The one surnamed Lin.”

Jiang Xuezi deliberately drew out her tone. “Ohhh, Little Lin.”

“She was in such a good mood earlier, when she came to ask me about the video revisions.”

Jiang Min couldn’t quite understand the mood swing, and wondered if she’d imagined it.

Jiang Xuezi smiled faintly and played along. “Yes, how very strange indeed.”

After the meeting, Lin Xuqing returned to her workstation and, racing against the clock, finished every revision Jiang Min had proposed, merged them with Yu Sisi’s side, and submitted another draft.

Since it was only a pre-review, not the formal submission, Jiang Min didn’t push them to revise further. She relented, gave the word, and had the project department’s contact send it to the company.

Near quitting time, Lin Xuqing let out a breath of relief and tidied her desk at a leisurely pace.

Jian Ming stood with his arms crossed and delivered a barbed remark. “Quite impressive, Photographer Lin.”

Lin Xuqing’s expression stayed flat. “It was nothing.”

Jian Ming’s punch had landed on cotton. He sneered. “Young people really shouldn’t get too cocky.”

Still no emotional ripple from Lin Xuqing. “It was nothing.”

Jian Ming was so angered he choked on his words. He’d never imagined this quiet, unassuming person had such a sharp tongue.

Once Jian Ming stalked off with a dark face, Yun Shu, watching him enter the project department office, sidled over. “Hey, you’ve really and truly offended Team Leader Jian now.”

Lin Xuqing nodded. “I know.”

The shooting team’s leader was Jian Ming, not her. But she’d been the main force on this project, leaving Jian Ming with zero presence—almost completely marginalized.

Even Yun Shu, squeezed out by Jian Ming, hadn’t been able to contribute much.

“I know you’re sharp, but there’s something you don’t know,” Yun Shu said, voice dropping lower. “It’s about the payment disbursement for that project…”

“Hm? What?”

“Guess you really don’t know. Team Leader Jian also negotiates commercial deals externally. When he closes one, he takes a percentage cut. This project isn’t a commercial deal, but if he wanted to pull something, he still could.”

Yun Shu’s words were deliberately veiled.

But Lin Xuqing understood. Jian Ming was in cahoots with Manager Su—making You Hui hit closed doors several times, the message being that they should send some “gifts,” so Jian Ming could skim a cut. He hadn’t expected Lin Xuqing to wreck his plan outright. No wonder he couldn’t stand the sight of her.

Having worked it out, Lin Xuqing didn’t dwell on it. She said to Yun Shu, “Thank you.”

Yun Shu had told her this to signal she wasn’t one of Jian Ming’s people. But Lin Xuqing still appreciated the warning.

“I’m heading off. Bye.”

“Not working late today?”

“No, I have somewhere to be.”

Lin Xuqing was leaving work on time for once—Tang Xiaoyu was coming to pick her up to go ski-suit shopping. The suit needed trying on for size; the rest of the gear Tang Xiaoyu already had, so nothing else needed buying.

Eldest Miss Tang had driven a red convertible Ferrari today, waiting at the park gate. Lin Xuqing pulled open the car door. “You’re early.”

“Yep. Wanted to see if I could catch You Hui-jiejie.”

“She’s out talking projects this afternoon.”

“No wonder—waited forever and never saw her. Oh well, I’ll see her this weekend anyway. Speaking of which, you owe me thanks, don’t you?”

“Thanks for what?”

“Thank me! If not for me, would you be going out to play with Sister Jiang Min?”

At those words, Lin Xuqing’s brows smoothed and her eyes softened. “Mm.”

Tang Xiaoyu was long used to her terse manner and didn’t hold it against her. The car parked in the mall’s underground garage, and she dragged Lin Xuqing upstairs to shop for ski suits.

“This pink one. Pretty.”

“Pink? No. I don’t wear pink.”

“Trust me. I think Sister Jiang would like this color on you.”

“Tang Xiaoyu, do you think you’re a mind reader or something?”

“Ew, what worm, what reading,” Eldest Miss Tang said, utterly speechless. “Fine, don’t listen to me then.”

Ten minutes later.

“Tsk tsk. Didn’t you say pink wasn’t to your taste?”

“Where do you get all these words?”

“Hee hee. Wearing it for your dear sister to see, hmm? I’m telling you—can’t you stop being so sneaky about it? Can’t you just be direct for once?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

Lin Xuqing ignored her and walked on ahead by herself.

Tang Xiaoyu watched her retreating back, muttering to herself, “I wouldn’t understand? Nobody in this world understands. Where else would you find a Love Bodyguard as devoted as me~”

Ski suits bought, the two had a simple meal in the mall, then drove home.

They’d barely left the underground garage when Lin Xuqing’s phone rang.

The ringtone sounded, and she stared at the screen for a long while without answering.

“Whose call? Why aren’t you picking up?”

“My younger sister’s.”

With that, Lin Xuqing finally answered. “Hello.”

A gentle woman’s voice came through the line. “Jie, Dad asked me to check—when are you coming home for New Year?”

“Next week. I know the timing. Don’t worry.”

“Then… then take good care of yourself out there.”

“I know.”

The call was extremely brief—hung up in under thirty seconds.

Tang Xiaoyu marveled, “Funny thing, isn’t it? All the good genes in your Lin family seem to have gone to you alone. Your sister and brother’s grades… about on par with mine, I’d say.”

Lin Xuqing offered no comment. “Maybe.”

“Was that them rushing you home?”

“Yes. I’m going back early this year. My mom passed away last year. By custom, I need to go back early to burn paper offerings for her.”

Lin Xuqing’s tone was flat, her expression calm.

Tang Xiaoyu listened, then carefully studied her face, remembering when she’d seen her at the start of this year… The woman had seemed like a wandering ghost, utterly devoid of any human warmth.

Only recently, bit by bit, had she come back to life.

“Um… about your family,” Tang Xiaoyu said, choosing her words with rare care, “does Sister Jiang know?”

“Why would I tell her? What obligation does she have to deal with my affairs?” Lin Xuqing suddenly laughed. “I’m a grown adult. I solve my own problems.”

At that, Tang Xiaoyu didn’t dare respond carelessly. She gave a murmur of acknowledgment and kept driving.

Lin Xuqing gazed out the window, lost in thought.

Suddenly she remembered that winter, the year Jiang Min’s job transferred her away from Mingchuan.

Ever since that day below her dormitory building, when Jiang Min had said she would no longer involve herself in her affairs, Lin Xuqing had never spoken to her again.

It was a Saturday. She was at the library working on her graduation thesis. Jiang Xuezi came to ask her—Jiang Min was leaving Mingchuan; two days ago everyone had gone out for a farewell dinner, so why hadn’t she shown up?

That was how Lin Xuqing learned Jiang Min was leaving. She didn’t dare ask which train she was taking, much less where she was going.

A little later, Jiang Xuezi sent her the ticket information, saying Jiang Min wouldn’t let them see her off, that she’d only just sent the ticket details, and departure was very close now.

Lin Xuqing couldn’t even spare a moment to thank Jiang Xuezi—she hailed a taxi and raced for the station, heart in her throat the whole way, only to get stuck in traffic. She abandoned the cab and ran two stops’ worth of streets. It was freezing cold, and every layer of her clothing was soaked through with sweat.

She searched the vast station for one familiar figure and couldn’t find her anywhere. She bumped into several people, apologizing over and over. Still nothing. Tears welled up in her eyes until she could barely see the road.

Nearly despairing, she walked out of the station.

It was raining outside—and when she looked up, there, impossibly, was the very person she’d been searching for. Jiang Min had just gotten out of a taxi, somewhat flustered, holding up her handbag to shield herself from the rain.

Lin Xuqing fished an umbrella out of her canvas bag, rushed over, and held it over her.

Jiang Min was visibly startled to see her. “What are you doing here?”

Lin Xuqing didn’t dare meet her eyes. “A friend came to visit. Just left. I was seeing her off.”

“What a coincidence,” Jiang Min said, as if believing her. “I’m leaving too.”

“You… where are you going?”

“Job transfer. I’ll be in the south for a few years.”

“Oh.”

Lin Xuqing had nothing left to say.

After their last argument, they hadn’t spoken since. If today weren’t so exceptional, Jiang Min probably wouldn’t have acknowledged her at all.

After all, their sponsorship arrangement had already ended.

By their original agreement, once she found an internship and could support herself, Jiang Min would end the sponsorship.

“Let me walk you into the station.”

“Fine. Thank you.”

Lin Xuqing held the umbrella, tilting it toward Jiang Min until more than half her own body was drenched by the rain—though fortunately, the black coat hid it well enough.

The winter rain was bone-piercingly cold. She felt as if her whole body had been split in two: the half near Jiang Min was warm, while the rain-soaked half was so cold it was going numb.

Just like her heart at this very moment—one half clinging greedily to this closeness of walking beneath one umbrella in the rain, the other half near despairing: I may never see this person again for the rest of my life.

At the station entrance, Jiang Min said, “All right, you should hurry back too. Before the downpour starts—it won’t be safe.”

Lin Xuqing nodded. “Mm… okay.”

She said okay, but she didn’t move.

Jiang Min said nothing either, as if waiting for her to speak.

Sadly, the words never came.

Jiang Min checked the time and finally spoke. “My train leaves soon. You can get home by yourself, yes?”

Lin Xuqing gave a murmur. “No problem.”

Jiang Min looked at her. “Fine, then I’ll leave you to it.”

The girl who had kept her head lowered the whole time finally raised it, her eyes reddening all at once. “You won’t look after me anymore?”

Jiang Min, for once, looked away, and smiled. “You’ve grown up. I don’t need to worry anymore.”

“All right. I’m off.”

Lin Xuqing watched her take a step back, withdrawing from beneath her umbrella—as if watching her step out of her world.

Jiang Min turned, walked into the station, and never looked back.

Lin Xuqing watched her figure vanish into the crowd, closed her umbrella, turned, and walked out—stepping straight into the cold winter rain.

She wept in the winter rain.

From the moment she’d made her decision, she had foreseen this moment.

She had always known what kind of person Jiang Min was, and that her own choices would carry a price.

But still…

She could never forget the moment Jiang Min stepped back from beneath her umbrella. That single instant.

She had watched, with her own eyes, as the last thread holding them together snapped.