The Little Duck 1

Chapter 1

“Do you think you’re excellent?”

“I’ve been excellent since I was a child. My grades were good, I was good-looking, and my family was wealthy enough to send me to art school. I’m an optimist with a cheerful personality. Back in school, my teachers and classmates all adored me.”

“Then what have you achieved between the ages of eighteen and twenty-eight?”

“I’ve achieved… a mental shift from ‘all roads lead to Rome’ to ‘all roads lead to being a beast of burden’.”

She had to admit it—the passionate youth she once lived, the dreams she once chased with all her might.

Like a certain person, they had long since parted ways with her.

*

It was late August, and the afternoon sun was so hot the glass windows were scorching.

The office air conditioning was blasting, and her colleagues were all busy with their own tasks. Only Jian Xin was sweating profusely, slumped listlessly at her workstation, a handheld mini-fan blowing directly in her face as she stared blankly at the unfinished work on her computer.

A few minutes ago, she had just returned from the blazing sun outside.

She hadn’t gone out during work hours for business, but merely to buy a loaf of bread and some yogurt for Director Niu, who hadn’t wanted to eat lunch earlier but was suddenly hungry now.

As a working stiff, running errands for a superior wasn’t really something to complain about.

The problem was, after running this errand, she didn’t even get a single “Thank you for your hard work.” Instead, she was met with a round of criticism.

“I don’t even eat red dates. Why did you buy red date yogurt?”

“I didn’t know. You said to just grab anything…”

“You didn’t know? Couldn’t you have asked?”

…Didn’t I ask you what flavor you wanted from the very beginning?

Just because I didn’t ask the ‘right’ question, does that mean you couldn’t have just said it?

“Out of so many options, you just had to buy the one thing I can’t eat.”

“…” Jian Xin took a long, deep breath.

Right, right, out of so many options, you just had to dislike the one I like.

It seems our stars really aren’t aligned; our fates must be in conflict.

After that, the conversation devolved into the same old, tired lecture.

For the next few minutes, a ceaseless torrent of reprimands washed over Jian Xin’s ears.

It was clearly a trivial matter unrelated to work, yet Director Niu’s temper was inexplicably foul.

Perhaps she’d been chewed out in the morning meeting and desperately needed an outlet for her frustration. Jian Xin, the unlucky soul, had just happened to cross her path. She’d been rambling on for ages now with no intention of stopping.

Fortunately, this wasn’t the first time. Jian Xin was already quite used to it.

She pressed her lips together, her eyes downcast, diligently managing her expression to appear humble and obedient. She let the critical words go in one ear and out the other, her mind wandering for a good while before she was finally “released from custody” and allowed to return to her workstation to “atone for her crime.”

“Xiao Jian, did you get told off?”

The female colleague in the next cubicle leaned over and asked.

“Yeah,” Jian Xin replied softly.

“Our department’s performance has been poor this quarter. Director Niu took some heat this morning, so she’s in a bad mood,” the colleague said, lowering her voice. “She’s definitely going to be taking it out on us for the next few days!”

Jian Xin sighed. “Sometimes I really just want to quit.”

Her colleague shook her head and muttered, “Jobs are hard to find right now. You should probably cool your head.”

Right, cool my head.

It wasn’t like the criticism had any substance anyway.

In the end, it was the same old story: she wasn’t clever enough, she didn’t put her heart into her work, she only did something when prodded, she couldn’t think outside the box. Who knew where her mind had wandered off to.

To be honest, Jian Xin didn’t know where her mind had wandered off to either.

A few years ago, she had actually quite liked this job.

She clocked in and out on time every day and had weekends off. Although the salary wasn’t high, her material desires weren’t high either. As long as she stayed away from music, she could even save a little each month. Life was quite leisurely.

But the good times didn’t last. The economy slumped after the pandemic, and wave after wave of layoffs forced Jian Xin to join the life-or-death battle to keep her job.

Thinking back, ever since two senior employees in her department were laid off last year, she had been in a constant state of splitting herself in two just to get things done.

Her workdays were a flurry of activity, and her evenings were spent collapsed in exhaustion. Day in, day out.

Getting home late at night was the norm, and there were always one or two days a week when she couldn’t even catch the last subway.

Countless times, she would lie in bed after a shower, wanting to clear her head. Soothing music, perfect for lulling one to sleep, would be playing, but just seconds after closing her eyes, work messages on WeChat would start ringing like a cursed call from a horror movie.

She couldn’t help but wonder, I don’t even make that much money, so why is the work never-ending?

With her life in such a state, what could possibly be on her mind?

If there was anything, it was the thought of dying, but then she’d feel that someone else deserved it more.

Speaking of which, today was her birthday, but she didn’t even have the time to ask a friend out for a meal.

Even if she had the time, she didn’t have the energy.

Thankfully, tomorrow was the weekend. She could at least get a good night’s sleep tonight.

Perhaps it was the lingering heat she’d brought back from outside.

Or perhaps it was the inexplicable scolding that had soured her mood.

Jian Xin had been sitting in front of her computer for a while now, the small fan blowing on her face, but she still couldn’t muster an ounce of motivation to work.

After some thought, Jian Xin decided to slack off for a few minutes. She would focus on work once she had calmed down.

But slacking off only made her feel worse.

If you had to ask why, it was regret.

She regretted her own damn itchy fingers, clicking on a message she shouldn’t have!

Jian Xin had a high school class group chat that she kept on “Do Not Disturb.”

The group always had a red notification dot, but she never opened it.

But just now, she had picked up her phone, opened WeChat, and with a casual glance, her eyes were caught by the half-visible message from the group.

[Class 8, No. 3 High School Official WeChat Group]

[[87 Messages] Wang Xiaofeng: Yan Lu is now…]

Without much hesitation, as if by instinct, Jian Xin clicked open the group chat she had ignored for years.

Qi Xia: [Image]

Qi Xia: Oh my god! Is this Yan Lu?!!

Qi Xia: She really became a famous author!

Zhang Danya: Right?! I saw this on Weibo too. It looked like her, but I didn’t dare to assume until you said something!

Li: Huh?

Li: What Weibo post?

Qi Xia: [Weibo Link]

Eat Well, Drink Well, Be Well: [Dazed] Holy cow?

Yang Tian: [Shocked]

Yang Tian: Isn’t this the drama I’ve been watching recently?

Yang Tian: The novel was written by Yan Lu?

Wang Xiaofeng: Yan Lu is so pretty now? She looks so different from how I remember her.

The messages ended there.

This high school group chat had been created many years after graduation.

When they had just graduated, WeChat wasn’t popular yet. By the time it was, many people had lost contact.

There were nearly seventy students in their class back then. When the class president was creating the group, he had to piece contacts together from all over. In the end, including the head teacher, he only managed to gather fifty-nine people.

The Yan Lu they were all discussing was not among those fifty-nine.

After so many years, the relationships between people had long since faded. Who would ever chat in here on a normal day?

Even these few messages had been trickling in since the night before last, with someone piping up every half a day or so, turning the chat into something of a message board that couldn’t even fill three screenshots.

Jian Xin glanced at the chat history, clicked on the photo at the top, and stared at it for a long while. Then, she silently exited and clicked on the Weibo link below.

The Weibo post was from a popular young actress named Lin Xiyu.

The caption was just one sentence.

[Lin Xiyu: Ta-da! Treating my favorite author to a cheat meal!]

There was a particularly popular drama starring Lin Xiyu currently airing, and the original novel was also extremely famous.

Jian Xin had seen many clips of it on various platforms and was quite interested, but she had never found the time to watch it.

The photo her classmate had sent in the group chat was from this Weibo post.

It was a selfie of Lin Xiyu with another person. The other person in the photo was the original author of the hit drama—Perched by the Roadside.

Lin Xiyu was making a one-handed heart sign at the camera, her smile radiant.

Beside her was a table of exquisitely plated dishes. The author, a non-celebrity, was sitting at the white dining table behind her.

At the moment the picture was taken, this person was holding a marker, its tip poised over a book. Her head was half-raised, and she was looking sideways at the camera with a somewhat surprised expression, clearly caught mid-signature.

It’s often said that there’s a world of difference between celebrities and ordinary people, but this author didn’t lose any of her luster when photographed next to such a beautiful actress.

The author was very beautiful, with a scholarly air about her. She seemed to have a gentle and reserved demeanor, very much the picture of a serene and timeless “white moonlight” from a novel—she was completely, utterly Jian Xin’s type.

Normally, if Jian Xin saw such an elegant beauty who so perfectly matched her aesthetic, she would at the very least save the picture and search for other photos of the person to soothe her work-weary eyes.

But this one, Jian Xin took one look and turned off her phone screen.

Her old classmates in the group chat were not mistaken. This superstar author posing with a celebrity was indeed Yan Lu.

And as fate would have it, this person was her ex-girlfriend who had vanished off the face of the earth.

Seven years since the breakup, without a single word.

Even her current, wildly popular pen name was different from the one Jian Xin had known.

That heartless woman had truly cast her past aside, leaving not a single trace.

Jian Xin unconsciously took a long, deep breath.

Mmm…

The familiar smell of secondhand smoke.

The heat on her body had yet to dissipate, and the colleague behind her had started smoking his wretched cigarette again, with no regard for anyone else.

Her phone suddenly buzzed.

When she looked down again, a new work message had appeared in WeChat.

Director Niu: Xiao Jian, I see you’re quite free, just sitting there spacing out for a while.

Director Niu: This is very urgent. Since you’re free, you do it. It’s due Monday morning.

Director Niu: [Attachment]

Jian Xin subconsciously glanced back at Director Niu’s office.

Through the window, she could see her standing by the water cooler, holding a cup of freshly dispensed hot water in one hand and her phone in the other, a look of utter nonchalance on her face.

If her phone could feel pain, it would surely be in agony from her grip right now.

Jian Xin suddenly felt a lump in her throat, unable to catch her breath.

Alright, alright, so impressive!

Chewing me out just now wasn’t enough, now you have to be passive-aggressive while assigning a task, is that it?

Perhaps it was the increasingly pungent smell of smoke in the air.

Jian Xin stared at the message, lost in a long, deep thought.

—How much longer do I have to live this wretched life?

Honestly, she didn’t think her life was particularly hard.

Or rather, most people in this world had their own struggles. At least she didn’t have to worry about food and drink and had a stable income, unlike her recently laid-off colleague who was still frantically looking for a job.

In truth, this kind of life wasn’t unlivable, but emotions are a subtle thing.

It reminded her that, in some distant memories, she had never been one to follow the rules.

So, for a fleeting moment, Jian Xin suddenly didn’t want to go on like this anymore.

The moment she made up her mind, her brow furrowed. She abruptly slammed her hands on the desk, stood up, grabbed a stack of files, and with an exaggerated motion, fanned the cigarette smoke back toward its source.

The smoking colleague looked at her as if he’d seen a ghost. “What the hell are you doing? Having a fit?”

Jian Xin didn’t reply. She just slammed the files back down on her desk as if she’d eaten several pounds of dynamite and sat back down with a thud.

The chair creaked under her weight. She opened a new document and typed large characters onto it.

—NOTICE OF RESIGNATION!

***

1. Perched by the Roadside (沿路而栖, Yán Lù Ér Qī): This is the pen name of the author in Chinese pinyin.

…

Jian Xin:

Yan Lu: