Chapter 32

The source of all profits lies in “utilization”—using power, public opinion, and the psychology of the masses to gain traffic, and then monetize it.

The five of them sat around the table on the terrace, with the Huangpu River and Lujiazui’s nightscape just beside them. The water rippled gently, and for a moment, Gu Yi thought she was dreaming. Mr. File Transfer Assistant Liang Daiwen sat down, staring straight at the menu without glancing to the side. Gu Yi, under the table, stepped on his foot. Liang Daiwen cleared his throat, and his ears turned red again.

Gu Yi felt a little pleased. This seemed like the first step in her successful transformation of Liang Daiwen—his ears turned red when he was shy.

Yu Dule, as Gu Yi’s old friend, secretly sent a message: “Liang Daiwen looks like a monk in deep meditation. You should stop holding these sharing sessions and just let this Buddha enter the community.”

Gu Yi looked at her phone and laughed so hard she almost choked.

Guan Xingxin, sitting between two men, seemed to be at ease. She gave equal attention to both sides, and there was almost no ambiguity in their interactions. They all treated each other like friends. One was a young man she often met at home, and the other was a protector who had gone to jail for her. She was caught in the middle, yet she seemed like... an escort.

Gu Yi was startled by the thought, but Guan Xingxin’s almost flattering demeanor made her feel something was off. It seemed like the kind of subtle detail every man would like—gently tucking her hair behind her ear, constantly complimenting the food, and when subtly rejected, there was always a touch of sadness...

From a woman’s perspective, this kind of politeness seems like keeping people at arm’s length from the heart, making it hard to form real friendships. Guan Xingxin was still trying to create opportunities for Gu Yi and Liang Daiwen: “Why did you suddenly think of holding a sharing session? I remember Liang Daiwen never cared much for the mundane world; and since Liang Daiwen is so generous, we’re probably here thanks to Gu Yi’s influence.”

Liang Daiwen responded quickly, “No, no. Zhang Qingya is hosting, and it’s nice to have five people here, isn’t it?”

When Gu Yi heard this, the lid of the vinegar jar was suddenly thrown open—first, am I really so unimportant that it shifted so quickly? Second, Zhang Qingya is hosting? What’s their relationship?

Guan Xingxin’s smile became awkward.

Liang Daiwen calmly cut his steak, “I spent the money from my last design project already, and I’m a little short recently. The stair railing I designed made the news, and the group has a contract with me, so they sent me to do an inspection at a special education school. It was beyond my imagination—two classes, thirty students using only their nostrils and teeth to face me. There were only two teachers, dragging a room full of strange students—Down syndrome, intellectual disabilities, autism... The group donated 1.6 million, and I took my salary in cash to help the teachers buy daily necessities. The school next door is a prestigious primary school, and when school ended, all these very impressive-looking parents and children were outside... On the way back, I felt a little uncomfortable—probably sad.”

Gu Yi was stunned, while Yu Dule and Lu Ming didn’t quite understand this conversation. “Uncomfortable?”

“Honestly, I have alexithymia, I’m not very sensitive to emotions,” Liang Daiwen lightly placed his fork on the napkin. “If I were a little more sensitive, I’d feel torn—making money from the wealthy, while providing tiny help to a special group.”

“That’s impressive,” said Lu Ming. “Being so idealistic means you’re really not short of money.”

“Don’t moralize me,” Liang Daiwen’s logic was clear. “I’m not doing this to praise myself.”

Lu Ming seemed a bit awkward. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I’m curious, what exactly does this alexithymia mean?” Yu Dule asked.

“Just think of it as emotional blindness. I don’t really feel joy, anger, sorrow, or love.”

Yu Dule glanced at Gu Yi with concern.

Guan Xingxin took over the conversation, “Emotional blindness isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Many people choose not to pay attention to the darker sides of life because they can’t bear to see painful things. Maybe it’s because you can’t feel it that you’ve managed to last this long. Having normal emotions isn’t always a good thing—people are so complicated, the more you understand, the more painful it becomes.”

“I didn’t mean anything by it, just never heard of it before,” Yu Dule and Lu Ming felt awkward, and the atmosphere around the table immediately became lighter. They, like Gu Yi at first, were puzzled when they heard “alexithymia.”

Gu Yi felt a bit divided by this scene. The group sat in a refined restaurant, eating somewhat luxurious steak, but the conversation was about disabled children and emotional disorders—heavy topics. Liang Daiwen kept glancing at her and then quickly looking away. She understood what Guan Xingxin meant. Just like how the world wasn’t as beautiful as she imagined after her vision was restored, Liang Daiwen, who wanted to feel emotions, might not consider emotional blindness a bad thing after experiencing the complexity of human nature.

But she also understood that Liang Daiwen just wanted to be an ordinary person. Life’s ups and downs, happiness like fleeting sparks, being able to be an “ordinary person” was rare and precious.

The few of them joked as they entered the elevator after drinking. Yu Dule tripped and knocked into Gu Yi, almost falling into Liang Daiwen’s arms, but Liang Daiwen pushed her shoulder firmly to stop her from falling. Yu Dule pressed the elevator button, “Liang Daiwen, Gu Yi always looks like a terracotta warrior in front of you, so stiff. Do you know what that means? It means that no matter how far you go, even to Tibet, you’ll still be the kind of devout man who lacks oxygen but not faith. Is it really that hard for her to fall into your arms? Gu Yi, next time, just gain some weight. When he can’t push you away, you can just fall into his arms.”

Gu Yi had seen Liang Daiwen, who was uninterested in women, many times. She sighed, “Forget it. If I gain weight, I’ll just be a chubby terracotta warrior. He does push-ups so well; even if I throw myself at him, he could catch me and do ten push-ups.”

After saying this, Gu Yi felt better, while Liang Daiwen’s ears turned red—this was one of her rare joys lately. Thinking back to the night with the strawberry prints, she also looked forward to the day she could kiss Liang Daiwen. Until then, she would guard herself strictly, not letting even a mosquito come near.

On March 29th, Gu Yi’s heart skipped a beat. Everyone was waiting for the email announcing promotions at the end of March. Raises and promotions all hinged on that moment. Especially since Jacqueline was about to appoint a new chief editor for new media, either she or Pony would get the position. Gu Yi had given her report at HRD and had impressive collaboration data. Jacqueline had even taken her along for a major beauty project, so she felt confident.

At 10:00 AM, the email reminder popped up. Gu Yi opened the promotion list, which was sent to everyone. She read it three times, her heart sinking to the bottom.

Pony was promoted. Aside from Director Jacqueline, all future topics would have to be reviewed by Pony. Pony was congratulated wildly in the group. The email response was very polite: “It happens to be my 30th birthday, and this is the best gift. Thanks to Yizhou, thanks to all my colleagues. I’ll treat everyone to milk tea at the birthday party at the end of March.”

The intern who had pierced lips was officially promoted to content editor. The salary might be lower than Gu Yi’s, but the title was the same—just the difference between junior and senior. The intern didn’t seem to care, arriving to work in a sports car with a calm attitude. He moved his desk next to Gu Yi and leaned over to chat with her: “Lindsey, I look forward to working with you.”

Gu Yi didn’t respond.

“Are you angry? Come on, she’s a thirty-year-old woman, it’s normal to get promoted to a junior editor.”

“It should be based on ability.”

“This was probably Roger’s decision. There have been rumors that Jacqueline might leave, and HR has the power to make decisions.”

Gu Yi looked towards Jacqueline’s office. Roger, the big boss who rarely showed up, had been holding meetings with the upper and mid-level managers in the cold Alaska conference room upstairs.

“Honestly, Lindsey, I know why they promoted Pony. Her image is one that could be the face of ‘Yizhou,’ but you’re more casual with your style and your talk shows, you don’t really care about anything other than work, you don’t communicate much with your colleagues. It’s normal for the boss to choose someone who ‘looks’ capable.”

The conversation left Gu Yi feeling confused: “Do companies really care about this?”

“Of course. Pony embodies the persona of a pure Shanghainese—only buying fashionable items, high-quality knockoffs, and giving off a stylish vibe at first glance. She was at Fashion Week last time, didn’t send you a message, but Jacqueline knew, and Roger knew too. From a workplace perspective, everything she projects is aimed at reporting to her superiors. Your work is indeed better than hers, but if the top boss doesn’t see it, then the cost-effectiveness isn’t high. Don’t feel bad; I like you. Everyone hates Pony. When she says she’ll buy everyone bubble tea, it’s definitely just a joke.”

“I don’t understand why buying fake luxury goods and swapping bags with marketing people is something to admire.”

“Sigh, Lindsey, you’re really so straightforward. People like you in this industry are supposed to act like punks, right? You might as well work at Modern Sky. Do you know how good her relationship with Dior is? They always invite her to their shows because every time she goes to someone’s company, she carefully wears the latest bags, knows every new product inside and out, even memorizes the videos for her Instagram. That’s what clients need, not someone who confronts others and criticizes them for being flashy and uneducated while only associating with internet-famous rich women. If I were Dior, I’d also like Pony…”

The twenty-year-old boy knows things that she doesn’t. Gu Yi made it through to the evening, replaying her resignation letter a hundred times in her mind but still submitted her April-May schedule to Jacqueline’s office. She walked a few steps in the damp air, looking down at Jacqueline, who was wearing a purple-red shirt, probably just having finished a workout at the downstairs gym and showered before coming upstairs—she was always in such a lively state at the office. She... wanted to wait for Jacqueline’s comfort. They had worked overtime together so many times, and their chat logs were more frequent than those with Liang Daiwen or Guan Xingxin. Jacqueline might show more concern for her…

“Didn’t get promoted? Are you waiting for me to comfort you?”

“Huh?”

“Then why won’t you leave?”

“I... I just feel unwilling.”

“It’s because I didn’t choose you. You’re more competent than Pony, but you didn’t prepare in many areas.”

Gu Yi hated hearing the word “but” at work. Knowing that Jacqueline hadn’t chosen her, all her grievances turned into anger. Why? How could this happen?

“In the workplace, it’s not just about capability. How you speak, act, and handle people—all those aspects contribute to your persona. Don’t think that just because this is the media industry, you can be a piece of wood with a long plank. Having good content alone won’t get you on stage.”

“But I wasn’t good enough? Not new enough?”

Jacqueline paused before replying, “You haven’t learned to separate talent from work.”

“What?”

“This isn’t talent. Sitting in the office every day, struggling to come up with topics—what talent is that? It’s just about earning data. Don’t treat it as creation. The problem is, because you can’t separate the two, you end up with these high, lofty niche ideas.”

“Do mediocre people just rise by doing things to please others, and we’re just tools for the bosses?”

Jacqueline rare smiled. “Isn’t that the case?” She slammed her laptop shut. “When people treat this world with kindness, they’re met with pure poverty. When we’re young, friends can empathize with each other because the things we care about are not yet tainted by interests. The root of profit is all about exploitation. Using power, public opinion, and mass psychology to get traffic and then monetize it. You really do have ideas, but you haven’t learned how to cater to the market. You’re unwilling to let your brilliance be used for the market. Don’t expect me to say this to you again.”

Gu Yi only said, “You’re afraid of me.”

Jacqueline looked up. “What did you say?”

“You’re clearly using my enthusiasm. Pony doesn’t have the brilliance I do, but I’m willing to work overtime, willing to think. You even say I haven’t thought enough, but you’re scared of me, right? No need to be. You’re way more talented than me. I used to think it was because of age, but now I see it’s not. I don’t have your decisiveness about work, nor do I have your love for power.” Gu Yi walked out, repeating her words to Jacqueline: “I won’t say this again.”

Back in the office, Gu Yi received a call from Xu Guanrui: “I’m back from Japan. Where are you? I brought you a gift.”

“I’m at the office.”

“Great, I’ll come find you in three minutes.”

When Gu Yi saw Xu Guanrui, she felt a bit of bitterness in her heart. He greeted her with his usual casual smile, and that indifferent attitude came back. Gu Yi tried to forget the kiss joke, but Xu Guanrui was the type of guy that was hard not to be drawn to. Every pore of his body seemed to exude an air of flirtation. He held a large bag containing stationery from LOFT and a figurine from Tea Town. None of the gifts were cliché. The one Gu Yi liked most was a compilation album of Arashi, as she was fond of Matsumoto Jun. This made Gu Yi feel a bit confused: “You’ve read my column?”

Xu Guanrui smiled. Gu Yi tilted her head. “Feeling down?”

“The Japanese band visited the Yasukuni Shrine a few days ago, and the Meiben concert got canceled due to protests. I approved the process for seven months, and all of it was for nothing. This thing made me feel lost—entertainment provides spiritual value, but that visit made the organizers’ position awkward. It was very unprofessional, damn it.”

Gu Yi patted his shoulder: “Really, a loss alliance.”

“No need to feel sorry for me. Carpe diem, live in the moment,” Xu Guanrui smiled lightly. “I don’t think I’ve ever really worked hard for anything. I just feel if it’s not mine, I don’t try to force it. Right now, I’m just glad this thing isn’t my responsibility. I don’t have that much money.”

He fell silent and smoked quietly. Xu Guanrui was very thin, and he knew he was the white knight type. He often took naps on the terrace during lunch, and many girls in the park secretly took photos of him. Gu Yi remembered his column, where he wrote about taking the bus for the first time in Japan on his way to visit Hide’s grave at Miura Cemetery, meeting an aunt who asked if he had come to pay respects to Hide. He wrote: “Standing in front of the grave, I felt very calm. I kept thinking, how could you leave us so soon?”

This was completely unlike someone who lived in the moment; he seemed deep enough to care about things long gone.

Xu Guanyue, however, noticed her displeasure and proactively changed the topic: “Are you and Liang Daiwen doing alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s not just because of men that I’m upset—don’t think of me as someone obsessed with romance,” Gu Yi replied.

“But it really looks like you’re feeling quite wronged.”

“Do I look messy? Has the comedy undermined my professionalism? Is it because I neglected socializing that I wasn’t chosen?” A series of questions tumbled out, and Gu Yi felt the tears were about to spill. People leaving the office building noticed Xu Guanyue with his suitcase and Gu Yi with red eyes, glancing at them as they walked by. Xu Guanyue said, “Come sit on the suitcase, I’ll take you for a ride.”

He said, then pushed her onto the 28-inch suitcase and pretended to push her like a child. The sound of the wheels clattering echoed through the park, and Gu Yi was pushed against the wall, with Xu Guanyue’s tall, thin figure blocking the white light. “No fireworks sticks this time, but I can help block other people’s attention. Did your boss scold you? Or were you excluded by someone? A client criticized you? Don’t take it to heart,” he said, seemingly exhaling white vapor. “Crying is fine, honestly, I want to cry too right now. Crying in front of you doesn’t make me feel ashamed.”

Hearing this was too painful, and Gu Yi’s tears really started to fall. Xu Guanyue panicked: “Ah, I was just kidding. I can’t stand to see girls cry. I just got off the plane, and I’m all dirty. Seeing you like this, I can’t help myself…”

The scent of winter surrounded them as Xu Guanyue held her in his arms, his voice flooding in from above her head. The white light in front of Gu Yi’s eyes felt blinding through her tears, as if his words were soaked and each subsequent sentence echoed faintly.

“You’re not upset because of Liang Daiwen, so I’m relieved. How is it that we’re both synchronized in our misfortunes? It’s really strange. I don’t know why, but I feel nothing after my pointless trip to Japan, but I can’t stand seeing you upset. No one has ever thought you were pretending to be strong, have they? The first time I saw you, I saw through it. It’s okay to cry in front of me. It’s alright. We’re like comrades in the ‘defeated front alliance,’ right? If you ran away with me, I’d go willingly...”

Jacqueline walked by, her bag on her back, and happened to see Gu Yi. Xu Guanyue noticed someone passing by but kissed her without a second thought. Holding her fragile shoulder, he pressed her against the wall and kissed her lips. The soft touch passed quickly, and the second kiss was more like a polite peck on the corner of her mouth, a gentle reassurance. The third kiss was on her forehead, and the hand on her shoulder turned into an embrace, as though to soothe his suddenness… Gu Yi didn’t pull away. This wasn’t something that could be solved with logic, nor was it something that could melt away with love. She just wanted to show weakness to someone close to her, without guilt. Xu Guanyue might have misunderstood. From the corner of her eye, she saw Jacqueline. She felt sorrowful and thought, when you’re weak, the armor absorbs your warmth, and perhaps it’s hard to take it off. But at this moment, she still longed for the comfort it gave her when it protected her.

Jacqueline glanced at the two embracing for a few seconds as she walked by, then silently left, as if blending into the night.