If Yuan Fenghui were to score Wen Ying’s performance in Hunan Province, she’d give 99 out of 100.
The one point deducted isn’t due to dissatisfaction with Wen Ying; it’s to keep her from getting too proud!
Honestly, Yuan Fenghui hasn’t felt such an exhilarating rhythm in a long time.
No matter what opening move Yuan threw out, Wen Ying could seamlessly follow, and that feeling was just too thrilling.
Working with fools often drove Yuan Fenghui to despair, so finding a smart person like Wen Ying was something she deeply cherished.
Even a hard-hearted boss needs to offer employees some encouragement—can’t expect the horse to run fast without feeding it properly.
After sending off the dazed Director Fan, Yuan Fenghui expressed her stance to Wen Ying:
“You played a huge role in securing Mengjiao’s endorsement so quickly. As I’ve said before, if you come to work full-time at Tianjiao, I’d dare offer you a 30,000 monthly salary. If it’s part-time, it’s 3,000… but when we get back to Rongcheng, I’ll apply to Mr. Li for a bonus for you.”
Merit deserves reward!
Both spiritual and material rewards are needed to retain talent like Wen Ying.
Indeed, Yuan Fenghui felt Wen Ying fully earned the title of “talent,” even though she was still a minor, just a first-year high school student. Ancient prodigy Gan Luo became a minister at twelve, and Wen Ying’s performance left Yuan Fenghui in awe—though not to the point of dissecting her for study.
Wen Ying was smarter than most peers, but still within normal bounds. A person’s energy is limited, and it’s said Wen Ying’s school grades were average, suggesting her skills were a bit lopsided.
When Yuan Fenghui offered a bonus, Wen Ying accepted with a beaming smile.
After this trip, risking being torn apart by Manager Chen upon return, wasn’t a little extra reward only fair? Wen Ying felt no guilt taking the money.
Anyone saving for a house could understand Wen Ying’s mood—10,000 more here, 10,000 more there, and the house could be a few square metres bigger. Just thinking about it felt great!
Wen Ying was still curious about how Yuan Fenghui negotiated the 2.8 million endorsement fee, but Yuan wouldn’t spill, and Wen Ying couldn’t force it out of her.
Li Mengjiao was still in the recording studio.
With a 2.8 million endorsement fee, Li Mengjiao had to nail this song!
Mr. Liu stood outside the studio, hands in pockets, smiling. After a while, he called Yuan Fenghui over.
The two discussed details for tomorrow’s ad shoot, leaving Wen Ying alone.
The day wasn’t even over, yet Wen Ying felt time dragging, probably because too much had happened.
She checked her phone—no messages from Manager Chen.
Great, this must be the calm before the storm.
Worse, no messages from Xie Qian either!
Was the storm upgrading to a hurricane or tsunami?
Weighing just over 100 pounds, Wen Ying felt she couldn’t withstand a tsunami.
She decided to tackle them one by one.
Manager Chen couldn’t be provoked—one wrong move, and she’d explode.
Xie Qian, being more rational, could be a breakthrough.
Wen Ying hid in a corner, typing a long message, then cleverly edited it down, splitting it into several texts.
She described today’s events.
Breaking it up made it more dramatic, more engaging.
No, she wasn’t trying to hook him—she just hoped her male idol would take pity on her, forgive her for running off to Hunan without notice, given how exhausting today had been.
The texts were sent.
Wen Ying, proud of her first-place win in the New Concept Composition Contest, wrote today’s events like a gripping short story.
But Xie Qian didn’t respond at all!
Did he not see the messages?
Wen Ying considered calling, but it was too noisy here.
Racking her brains, she remembered weekend homework and tentatively asked Xie Qian if she’d forgotten any assignments.
Two minutes later, Xie Qian finally replied.
“You forgot more than one subject, didn’t you?”
“…!”
She hadn’t forgotten, but she needed an excuse to get his attention.
Resigning herself to playing the academic slacker, Wen Ying pestered Xie Qian with questions. He replied to some, ignored others, leaving her troubled:
Her dad, Old Wen, could be won over with 500 yuan and a leather jacket.
Manager Chen might need an enthusiastic apology and shameless flattery upon return.
But Xie Qian—what would work on him?
Bribing him with money wouldn’t do; he was much richer than her.
Flirting? How could she flirt with Xie Qian and keep her dignity?
Maybe she could ask him for a stack of practice papers?
Ten was too few.
Twenty was passable.
Thirty might make Xie Qian slightly happy—after all, a stubborn slacker showing progress.
Forty… forget it, with forty, she wouldn’t see if Xie Qian was happy; she’d collapse halfway through the Long March!
Wen Ying typed and deleted messages, wavering between pleasing Xie Qian and drowning in practice papers.
Li Mengjiao finished recording and saw Wen Ying sneaking messages in the corner, alternating between smiles and frowns. She couldn’t help rolling her eyes: people in relationships act so weird—even Wen Ying couldn’t escape that rule!
…
“Xie Qian?”
Jiang Youjia glanced sideways, trying to see who Xie Qian was texting, but couldn’t.
Distracted, constantly checking his phone to reply—this was the Xie Qian he knew?
Was Xie Qian in love?
The thought, once it arose, couldn’t be suppressed.
As for who Xie Qian was with, it was obvious.
Jiang Youjia had long believed Wen Ying was intentionally getting close to Xie Qian, but no one believed him when he said so!
Now look.
The untouchable Xie Qian had been plucked by the unremarkable Wen Ying… Jiang Youjia wanted to shed sympathetic tears for himself.
Being one step ahead makes you a genius.
Two steps ahead, and you’re a lunatic.
He was that lunatic, a clown!
If he told his wife Lin Lin or Zou Weijun that Xie Qian and Wen Ying were dating, he wouldn’t earn their gratitude. Lin Lin wouldn’t believe him and would scold him for meddling.
Zou Weijun, who adored Wen Ying and had invited her to dinner multiple times—a privilege others didn’t get—was even less likely to care.
Jiang Youjia reined in his thoughts, avoiding Xie Qian’s phone, and got to business, “You were right. Zhao Dong’s contacting me again. He’s asked to meet two or three times, but I brushed him off. What’s he scheming?”
Xie Qian put his phone away, thought seriously, and said, “Probably about his autobiography. With your dad in the publishing group, Zhao Dong’s definitely targeting you.”
Targeting Jiang Youjia was a pretext; the real goal was Zou Weijun.
How long has it been, and Zhao Dong’s autobiography is already done?!
