In her sophomore year, Lin Xuqing had told Jiang Min a small lie too.
Jiang Min had been swamped with work back then and hadn’t watched her closely. Once, driving past Mingchuan University, she had spotted Lin Xuqing doing a part-time job by the roadside — and somehow getting into a scuffle with someone, shoved hard, falling to the ground.
Jiang Min stopped the car, put a stop to it, and took Lin Xuqing to the campus clinic.
The fall had left only a light scrape on her elbow. But the doctor’s findings weren’t good: malnutrition, plus low blood sugar.
Jiang Min asked where her money had gone. The girl, in an oversized hospital gown, head bowed, said in a small voice that she’d seen her roommate buying cosmetics and bought some too, so she had no money left for food.
And yet she was plainly bare-faced, with heavy dark circles under her eyes — and working part-time on top of it. How could she possibly not afford to eat?
Jiang Min didn’t need to ask to know she was lying. Most likely something had gone wrong at home and she needed money. But that did nothing to quell her anger.
Jiang Min’s face went cold. “Lin Xuqing. When you lie, you look me in the eye.”
Nineteen-year-old Classmate Little Lin raised her head, guilt written all over her. “I’m sorry…”
But twenty-nine-year-old Photographer Lin would not. She lifted her chin, her eyes calm, and said, “I really am finished.”
…
Knock knock knock.
Yu Sisi knocked and came in, greeting Jiang Min and saying the video’s post-production wasn’t finished — Lin Xuqing needed to hurry back and help.
Jiang Min didn’t keep her. “Go on, get to work.”
She checked the time, remembered tonight’s arrangements, and calculated she’d need to leave early.
There was still an hour before the evening rush; the roads weren’t jammed, but the car moved slowly.
President Jian had invited her to dinner tonight.
The dinner was secondary. Reporting on the work was the real task.
This meal was destined not to be an easy one.
Twenty minutes early, Jiang Min arrived at the Western restaurant they’d agreed on. When the hour hand touched six-thirty, Jian Yanping appeared precisely on time.
“Jiang Min. It’s been a long time.” Jian Yanping handed her silver coat to the waiter. She wore a plain qipao in an extremely pale color, her features deep-set and striking, her speech slow and soft.
“President Jian.” Jiang Min rose to pour her tea. “My fault — work piled up at year-end, and it’s been too long since I came to pay my respects.”
“Mm. I know your situation; I’ve read the earlier reports.” Jian Yanping looked at her, smile not quite reaching her eyes. “The situation isn’t ideal.”
Her tone was mild, yet she cut straight to the point.
Since Jiang Min had taken over Lingyin, the finances had never been good. This year, having failed to land a project from the higher authorities, they were spending more than they took in. The last two months’ salaries… had been sorted through Jiang Xuezi coordinating with Jian Yanping’s secretary.
Over these six or seven years, Jian Enterprises had invested a steady trickle of funds.
Jiang Min had heard whispers about the reason behind it. Back then, Jian Yanping’s reputation had suffered over certain matters, and she’d needed to build a better public image. Lingyin wasn’t called Lingyin yet in those days — it was called Duzhou. Jian Yanping had approached the team’s leader at the time, offering to sponsor a sum of money; in exchange, Duzhou completed a number of public-welfare projects for Jian Enterprises.
But Jian Yanping was far too forceful and shrewd a woman to play charity forever.
“As for next year’s work plan, I’ve drafted a proposal — still polishing it. I intended to send the final version to your secretary next week.”
“Shall I report to you first, President Jian?”
Jian Yanping gave a slight nod. “Go ahead.”
Jiang Min let out a soft breath.
That Jian Yanping was still willing to listen to her at all was already a very good sign.
Jiang Min didn’t touch her cutlery. As she reported, she kept refilling the other woman’s tea. “The work still breaks into three main parts. First, projects from the higher authorities — we’ll keep actively pursuing approvals, but that funding is limited. Second, we’ll expand cooperation with enterprises. We’ve actually built up a few relationships these past two years; the question is how to put those resources to use. Third, we need to get our social media accounts running properly.”
Jian Yanping nodded thoughtfully. “So you’ll be hiring again?”
“No.” Jiang Min’s answer was crisp. “The key is making better use of the people we have. No new spending unless it’s unavoidable. If necessary, I will cut staff.”
Jian Yanping’s lips curved. “Sound thinking. But it’ll be hard in practice. People’s wishes, after all, rarely survive contact with reality.”
Jiang Min’s gaze was steady. “I believe people make their own outcomes.”
Jian Yanping studied her, then suddenly smiled. “Enough — eat, before it gets cold. You’re still the same; start talking shop and you forget food exists.”
Jiang Min laughed too, dropping the businesslike tone, and the talk drifted to jade, opera, qipao — the very subjects Jian Yanping loved.
After the meal, she saw Jian Yanping out, left the perfume she’d bought on the way in the car, and took her leave with perfect courtesy.
Emerging from that ambush of a dinner, Jiang Min rubbed the space between her brows.
She got in the car and saw Jiang Xuezi’s missed call, calling back. “Xuezi. What’s up?”
“Nothing. I just knew you were seeing President Jian tonight and wanted to check in — then I was afraid of interrupting, so I hung up right away.”
“Mm. Dinner’s done.”
“What did she say?”
“At least through the first half of next year, the investment continues.”
“Half a year…” Jiang Xuezi suddenly laughed. “That President Jian of ours — still just as suffocating. I don’t like talking to her; it’s like wearing a too-tight collar. It’s a good thing we have you. Every meal with her wears you out like this, and you still keep your composure.”
“I don’t mind — I only face her a few times a year. It’s you I worry about, always going to her secretary about money, always swallowing insults. That’s the harder lot.”
At that, the line fell silent.
With their credentials and abilities, they could find any job they liked — far easier and far more respectable than this. But Jiang Min wouldn’t.
Doing what you want to do is never easy.
“All right, nothing else, I’m hanging up.”
The heater was off in the car. Jiang Min rolled down the window; cold wind poured in.
But Jian Yanping’s words kept circling in her head.
People’s wishes, after all, rarely survive contact with reality.
Jiang Min looked out the window. The street trees swept backward in a blur. New Year was closing in, and the branches hung heavy with red lanterns, their glow warm and bright.
And yet here, now, she was alone, and tired.
Once the team had rested and regrouped, Jiang Min began arranging the final shoot before the New Year.
This was a public-welfare project secured in September. With the year’s end approaching, under many of Mingchuan’s bridges the homeless still slept in numbers. The relevant authorities had tried sending these people away before, with poor results — it had even sparked a public-opinion crisis.
The project had been established through the combined push of several parties. On one hand, the authorities wanted to reach this group and understand why they wouldn’t leave, so they’d have something to show their superiors; on the other, they needed to answer the earlier public controversy — and the magazine office where Ning Rou worked would cooperate with interviews.
The project funding was relatively substantial, backed by a state-owned enterprise, but the shoot would be difficult, with no small element of risk.
When Jiang Min finished laying out the project’s overall situation, she set down the file. “I had everyone familiarize themselves with the basics these past two days. Now let’s hear your thoughts.”
You Hui frowned. “This is nothing like our corporate partnership projects. You can’t solve it with a proposal document. We can hardly get near this group, let alone win their trust — and without that, there’s no filming to speak of.”
Jiang Min nodded. “Which is exactly why I didn’t assign this to the project team. I want everyone brainstorming and bringing me ideas.”
Everyone sank into thought, and the room went quiet.
“Then every group submits a proposal to me. I won’t waste more time here today — submissions Monday morning. The earlier video still has revision notes; Sisi needs to push those fixes out today. Little Lin, assist her.”
Yu Sisi glanced at her phone. Half past four already. She hesitated before speaking. “I…”
She wasn’t feeling well today, and had been hoping to get home early…
Lin Xuqing, beside her, said quietly, “Give it to me.”
Yu Sisi shot her a grateful look at once. “Thank you.”
Lin Xuqing shook her head carelessly. “It’s nothing.”
The short meeting ended quickly.
Yu Sisi followed Lin Xuqing out of the conference room. “Little Lin, let me walk you through what still needs changing. Two spots have background music that doesn’t fit, and here the voice track…”
The two walked to Lin Xuqing’s workstation, talking — and Jian Ming watched them, not even bothering with a skin-deep smile, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Photographer Lin is so very capable. Then the proposal each group owes — you can take that on too.”
Beside them, Yun Shu shot Lin Xuqing a warning look — don’t agree — but Lin Xuqing answered crisply, “Fine.”
Yun Shu and Yu Sisi exchanged a glance and both went silent.
This was no simple shoot. How could she just agree like that!
And this was so plainly Jian Ming putting Lin Xuqing in her place.
They could only stand there listening, unable to say anything.
“Sister Sisi, go on, I’ll take the second half.” Lin Xuqing put on her headphones, as if the whole exchange had already slid off her.
Near six, Jian Ming shut down first and said to Yun Shu, “Off work. What are you still sitting there for?”
Yun Shu had no choice but to shut down too.
She’d wanted to stay and help, but didn’t quite dare cross Jian Ming openly. Picking up her bag, she left with a troubled look.
Lin Xuqing, headphones on, gave her a nod and bent back over her computer.
She hadn’t expected Yun Shu to come back so soon.
“Um… actually, before this project, the team leader gathered some preliminary information — through his own channels. I don’t have any of that on my end…”
“You handling this alone is far too much. If Sister Wen were back, she’d have materials too.”
“It’s fine.” Lin Xuqing’s gaze was clear and calm. “I can manage here. Go home.”
“But there’s no one to even lend you a hand…”
“I’ll do it myself. Go home.”
“You just pulled an all-nighter, and now you’re working late again tonight? It’s just a job — don’t work yourself to death.”
Seeing her genuine concern, Lin Xuqing couldn’t help a small smile. “Then I’ll die getting the video and the proposal out.”
“All right, then.” Yun Shu sighed. “I’m off, then.”
Lin Xuqing appreciated the kindness and walked her out.
The two stood at the door, and before leaving, Yun Shu added one more instruction. “Don’t stay up too late. Take care of yourself.”
Lin Xuqing looked up toward the building and murmured, barely audible, “I know. She’s waiting for my proposal.”
At the end of the second-floor corridor, the light in that office was still on.
All around was stillness. The white lamplight caught the snow drifting through the air, and for no clear reason it quieted the heart.
She gazed at that light and said softly, “She’s waiting for me.”
