Chapter 37

A screw cannot cry, or it will rust.

Trapped in the sofa, with a soft one-meter-five wide space on either side of Gu Yi, Xu Guanrui on the left and Liang Daiwen on the right, both wanted to whisper to her. Normally, with a limited mental capacity and a penchant for direct expression, Gu Yi was genuinely confused at this moment—talking about love should be a challenge, but dealing with these friends was especially taxing on her brain.

Lu Ming, holding the script with satisfaction, said, “I didn’t have much confidence going into this, but thanks to Liang Daiwen and Xu Guanrui, it seems to have turned out pretty well. You two really have your own styles—one cold and hard as ice, the other passionate as fire.”

Enough with the compliments, I’m still sitting in the middle!

“Xu Guanrui is really emotional. After finishing this part, I even wondered if it was a bit too explicit. But you reminded me that love is inherently crazy and reckless. Now, we’re the ones bound by reality. I was even thinking of closing the Rongmao Theater. With the annual rent of a hundred thousand, it’s a bit too extravagant for someone like me, still in debt. But now, I feel like money can always be earned again, but keeping your passion here for me to experience ‘being alive’—that’s worth it.”

This statement made everyone in the room feel a bit melancholy. Lu Ming, tall and big, sat on a small stool, lower than everyone else: “They say middle age is the beginning of the downhill path. At first, I didn’t understand. With a family, a career, and healthy parents, what’s scary about the downhill? As long as I keep exercising, my body can handle it. But then I realized the ‘downhill’ meant that everything I have in the future will gradually slip away, and everything is speeding up on me. No family, no reputation, relying on my parents and being looked down upon, dealing with young people in a small theater, gaining some envy and closeness from them because they don’t know my circumstances.” He let out a sigh. “I’m not really expecting love anymore. I can only write about it in scripts. With you friends, I always think of ‘downhill’—calculating the countdown to when you all will disappear.”

The deep, heartfelt lines in the script were Lu Ming’s final fantasy about love as a single man. Gu Yi understood this as well. From Guan Xingxin’s expression, she knew he was keeping his distance from her, and in this competition, he had suddenly given up. Thinking back to the time when Lu Ming had entered the police station for the second time, Gu Yi quietly opened Weibo. On April 2, Lu Ming had posted, “On my way to see my daughter, not sure if she’ll like these gifts.”

Of course, he never saw her. Deleting it would be embarrassing, so he kept it. Maybe reality had worn him down, or maybe the lines in his script had reminded him that his love was no longer pure. In any case, he gave up. Feeling sad and unsure how to change the subject, the stool suddenly snapped with a loud crack. Lu Ming sighed. “See, misfortunes never come singly.”

The group laughed in unison. Yu Dule, feeling confident in his position, propped his chin up and enjoyed the scene with great amusement: “Xu Guanrui’s acting is much better than Liang Daiwen’s, don’t you think, Uncle Lu?”

Liang Daiwen looked at his phone: “It’s already online chatting. If they see an ugly photo, they’ll start to dislike it. I can’t really relate to that feeling.”

Gu Yi looked at Liang Daiwen’s profile. He must have been in middle school when he first went to an internet café, and back then, Liang Daiwen’s emotional judgment system had already started to malfunction. This meant that the memories of his first love were all before the digital age.

Xu Guanrui was eyeing Liang Daiwen with a strange look. Gu Yi knocked on Liang Daiwen’s head: “I’ll teach you a way to understand it. From now on, just use metaphors. If something doesn’t make sense, compare it to something else. For example, one day you’ll see someone you like, and it’ll feel like facing a storm, and then you’ll know love has come.”

Fortunately, Liang Daiwen’s ears turned red, so Xu Guanrui didn’t notice the emotional shift in him.

Guan Xingxin glanced at her watch: “It’s getting late. After the live broadcast, I’ll have to read the script. I’m exhausted. Yu Dule, can you take me home?”

Of course, “home” didn’t just mean being dropped off at home. After hearing this, both Liang Daiwen and Xu Guanrui stood up. Gu Yi made a throat-cutting gesture: “You two, neither of you is taking me home.”

Xu Guanrui shrugged: “Well, the company is nearby. You’re going to run the WeChat public account and Weibo soon, so there’ll be plenty of opportunities to visit my place.”

Those who are emotionally abundant have a clear aim and easily win another round.

After staying up all night to finish the script, Gu Yi went for the last interview early in the morning. On the way back to the company, she suddenly received a phone call from her mother. Her mom, drunk at midday, asked on the phone: “Sweetie, is work going well? Is your salary enough for the month?”

Gu Yi understood right away. This question was likely prompted by her father, who must have called her mother to ask why their daughter was struggling alone in Shanghai. This was one of the few times they spoke after their divorce, and whether it was right for their daughter to fight alone in Shanghai could spark an argument that would shake the heavens. Her father’s viewpoint was that girls shouldn’t work too hard, stay close to their parents and do light work, marrying a reliable person and experiencing the bliss of being naive. Her mother, on the other hand, thought both men and women should go out and explore; the world was vast, and experience was more important than a man’s influence. Gu Yi understood well what had ultimately destroyed their relationship—their differing views. Her father’s reprimands usually focused on: “It’s because you’re too strong, always trying to outdo me, that I couldn’t stay with you. Now our daughter’s inherited your stubbornness, going to Shanghai to suffer, becoming a speck of dust in the big city, her life becoming thinner by the day.” Her mother’s retorts were even harsher: “All the men in the world are unreliable, and you have the nerve to tell me how to raise our daughter? You should first look at your own behavior, abandoning me and starting over.”

During the last winter break before graduation, the family had sat together in a restaurant to celebrate. The outcome was that they flipped the dinner table over, almost spilling hot water on a neighboring table. Her father insisted her mother wasn’t feminine enough, and her mother firmly believed all men were useless. When they married, it was because of a plate of leek-filled dumplings at a restaurant—her mother rarely got to eat eggs, and her father’s promise felt like conquering a kingdom: “It’s just eggs. As long as I live, I’ll make sure you get enough to eat.”

That day, the leek dumplings were also knocked to the ground. Afterward, when her mother checked in on her, it was most likely because her father had bombarded her with calls, questioning her why she hadn’t raised their daughter well.

There was a long silence on the phone. Gu Yi stepped aside to avoid passersby and entered a coffee shop to chat with her mom for a while. She couldn’t let anyone see her being out in the sun and wind, nor could she let her colleagues hear her mother, who was drunk in the daytime. On the phone, she asked, “Mom, where’s Uncle Yun?”

“I’m at the shop. There wasn’t much business this morning, so I called you.”

Gu Yi understood what that meant. Both her mother and father had past marriages, and their shared history only reduced their patience for each other. She had to admit that, with age, her reading comprehension skills had improved.

“I’m fine. If you don’t have pocket money lately, I can send it to you.”

“Your mom doesn’t need this little money. If you want something good, don’t be too frugal. If you’re in trouble, tell your mom, I’ll send you some.”

The mother-daughter duo awkwardly exchanged pleasantries, neither able to spare a penny more. Her mother, who had a fondness for drinking, spent money recklessly and often used her pension to help old friends. Gu Yi comforted herself by thinking that as long as her mother didn’t drink too much, get scammed into a pyramid scheme, or break the law, she could do whatever she wanted.

After all, her mother had once worked tirelessly at odd jobs to support her education. Gu Yi said, “Mom, I really have to go now. My colleagues are calling me for lunch.”

“Okay. Little rabbit, remember what I told you: self-respect, self-love, independence, and strength. Never depend on others.”

“Got it.” Gu Yi thought to herself, she could show weakness to anyone, except her mom.

Before entering the office, Pony sent back six WeChat drafts: “Our theme this time is the female dilemma, but these are all independent topics.” The tone was imitating Jacqueline.

It was like a reminder that her life wasn’t going well, and pretending to be strong was useless. Gu Yi read the interview drafts, getting more and more frustrated. The low desires of the celebrities, the directors obsessed with wolf culture, the PR founders sparking with flames, even intimacy payment and secondary cards had dilemmas... Wasn’t it all supposed to be about women’s issues?

She wanted to send the chat history directly to Jacqueline, but instead, Gu Yi changed the titles of the six drafts, making them stylistically distinct, and posted them in the content department’s group: “Freshly minted drafts, feel free to brainstorm.”

The group was unusually quiet. Gu Yi hated this kind of workplace environment, where everyone only agreed when the boss or the leader spoke, showering likes and heart emojis. This time, she was going to stand firm—why should the right content be changed?

Ten minutes passed, and the time for the report had ended. Someone in the office called out, “Gu Yi, come to my office.”

It was Jacqueline. Gu Yi stood up dramatically, feeling as if her heart was about to explode. She was nervous—was she going to be fired? She still hadn’t settled the talk about the stand-up comedy, and Xu Guanrui’s issue hadn’t caught up to her yet. Maybe this time Jacqueline had found her mistake.

In the cold office, Roger sat on the sofa, reviewing the latest sample editions, and Jacqueline didn’t look at her: “Posting content in the group directly, is that how confident you are in your work?”

“Yes.”

“Are you happy to bypass the hierarchy?”

“No, but I didn’t know how to revise it. So if you think it’s bad after reading it, I’m happy to make changes.”

“I got Pony promoted to be your boss for a reason. Why didn’t you listen to her revision suggestions?”

“She said she wanted it to be part of a crisis series. But the people being interviewed are all so successful, their crises are pretty thin. How can I add to the readers’ frustration with the dilemmas of people making eight figures a year? The interviewees are all women, founders of yoga studios who are married, telling me about their peaceful lives—where’s the dilemma? They all know Yi Zhou isn’t a gossip magazine…”

Jacqueline’s smile looked like it was permanently stuck on her lips. Gu Yi understood. Jacqueline was using her as a scapegoat. Pony was Roger’s favorite employee, recruited by Roger in the early years. But Pony’s position was hard to challenge, and Gu Yi was outspoken…

Promoting Pony was entirely to please Roger and annoy him at the same time. Anyway, it didn’t affect her personally. But right now, she needed to make Gu Yi swallow this bitter pill: “It’s wrong to bypass your superior. Content groups and meeting rooms are both public office spaces. Is it your way of working to make your superior lose face? If everyone did that, we might as well do all the content ourselves and publish it directly. Schedule your own meetings through Outlook; I’m solving this issue for you this time, but there won’t be a next time.”

Without mentioning any personal grudges, Xu Guanrui’s revenge was executed beautifully. As she left the meeting room, she exchanged a glance with Roger—his expression was unreadable, but his assessment was clear. Her rashness was a done deal. Gu Yi felt disgusted as she exited the meeting room. From here on, every step related to the six articles—reviewing, checking with agents, publishing—would remind her of the treacherous nature of the workplace. But she was absolutely right. If she really changed the theme, it would mean betraying all the effort she had spent traveling between the inner and outer circles for the past week.

As for what she had told her mother—”Everything’s fine”—what was so fine about it? Work was reliable, but the chances of feeling nauseous were just too high.

When she got home, she bumped into the neighborhood committee auntie who was knocking on her door. There had been a burglary in 503 downstairs. The wooden door in 503, old and often left ajar with just a mesh screen for ventilation, lacked proper security. The neighborhood committee auntie said a single-lens reflex camera was stolen, and the burglar, who had been targeting a female tenant who wasn’t home, was hiding in the entrance of 501. Luckily, the male tenant of 501 had been unable to sleep and had gone out to take the trash. The auntie sighed, “Oh, in these old apartments with so many rentals, people just don’t have the sense of security—cooking with the door wide open, laughing away, and the flies don’t even bother a seamless egg...”

It was the tenant’s fault. Gu Yi closed the door and sat on the floor, feeling like she really needed to talk to someone. After thinking for a long while, she posted a message in the group: “Seems like there was a burglary downstairs, and the neighborhood committee auntie is specifically making a list of single women, as if trying to identify potential victims. This list will probably be handed over to the criminals to help them target their next victim.”

“That’s a reminder to buy fewer things. If your house is bare, no one will steal anything.” That was Yu Dule’s response.

Gu Yi sighed. Yu Dule was sending her a joke. She wasn’t in the mood for it, but still replied: “I should just live in the office, since there are cameras everywhere, totally safe.”

“Gu Yi, jokes are precious. If someone really robs you, keep your eyes wide open and document every moment. You’ll have great material for a punchline.”

After showering, Gu Yi saw the messages in the group and replied angrily: “So I can experience the danger of being burgled just for the sake of a punchline? Our downstairs door lock is broken, don’t scare people.”

Just after sending the message, the doorbell rang. Startled, Gu Yi tiptoed to the peephole. Through it, she saw Liang Daiwen, who was standing and staring back at her. His expression was unreadable—he looked like a bad omen come to her door.

When she opened the door, Liang Daiwen was holding a big bag. He pulled out a security camera, which he installed directly on the ceiling opposite her door. Gu Yi almost laughed. “Will I be safe just because I can see the people outside on my phone?”

“Of course not your phone. It’s mine.”

“...So you’re going to rush over here like a hero once you see something happening? Liang Daiwen, you’re a short-distance champion, an ironman, able to appear at my door in a minute and engage in hand-to-hand combat? Or are you just checking out which strange man might come to my house, afraid I might slip up?”

“Am I that dark-minded? I’m worried about you.”

“Worried about me? I’m just a small cog in the workplace. I live in such a small apartment that people say I’m pathetic. They say being pathetic is my character trait and my protection, so what? Is being pathetic such a bad thing?” Looking down, she saw the big bag of clothes he handed her—winter clothes, summer T-shirts, and a pair of clean gray-and-white sneakers...

“What’s all this? Are you planning to move in? You don’t need to go to such lengths. My sofa’s really hard...”

“I’m worried about you. Living alone might be troublesome, so I brought some men’s clothes to hang on your balcony, and shoes.”

Liang Daiwen took out a new pair of shoes and placed them at the door. Gu Yi remarked, “This is too fake. New shoes placed at the door just seem like an empty show.”

Before she could finish speaking, Liang Daiwen quickly rubbed some dirt on the ground and then onto the shoes. The clean white sneakers, with spotless soles and a perfect surface, now had a noticeable mark. Gu Yi looked at the shoes and suddenly burst into tears. Liang Daiwen, with a blank face, asked, “Why are you crying?”

“Why couldn’t you just take off the shoes and use old ones at the door instead? Why do you have to dirty a new pair?”

“I didn’t think of that. I can’t put worn shoes at your house, it’s impolite.”

Gu Yi looked at the dirtied shoes and cried even harder. What was there to comfort? Everyone was just lonely office workers, and she hadn’t reached the point of breaking down. After a few trials, her heart had hardened, so why did it soften at this moment? She wasn’t some overly sentimental heroine in a sweet romance.

But she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t stand being treated so kindly.

Liang Daiwen stood in front of her: “Cogs shouldn’t cry.”

“Why?”

“Because crying will rust you.”

“Why do you always make people laugh without warning? I really can’t laugh right now.”

“Isn’t it because you wanted life to be a bit better than last year? You’ve already done it. Last year you were sharing a house, living in a small single room. This year, you’re living alone. If it’s really unsafe, I can cancel my lease and move next door to you, or if you don’t mind, you can move back. I’ll even pay the rent…”

She didn’t plan to tell Liang Daiwen about her mom or work issues; it wasn’t something that could be explained in just a few words, and there was no need to overshare her misery. So, outside the door, only she remained, crying uncontrollably, facing someone who couldn’t quite understand her...

The man in front of her, stiff and slow, reached out and hugged her. The moment his arms wrapped around her, it felt more like trapping her, making it impossible for her to move. This gesture was definitely not the first time he had done it; anyone familiar with K-drama tropes would know that he must have hugged other women before. But in that moment, she realized that his actions were sincere. Even though it was a bit awkward, she could almost hear the sound of his long-neglected feelings for love...

Liang Daiwen said, “The metaphor you mentioned, I’ll take it as homework. For example, this moment we’re in—though I can’t think of the right metaphor yet, I will seriously consider it. So, stop crying. At least don’t cry in front of me. It makes me uncomfortable.”

That was clearly just to avoid being seen as weak in front of Xu Guanyue... Forget it, when it comes to emotions, you can’t understand. This was the first time she found herself in Liang Daiwen’s arms. Today, the robot didn’t smell like perfume, didn’t have a tie, and had no pretense. This was more like how he was supposed to be—pure, clean, and as naive as a teenage boy. Just as she thought this, the teenage boy said something painfully awkward: “If Xu Guanyue dares to barge in, I’ll just call the police.”

“Arguing back and forth, are you in elementary school?”

“I’ve never experienced this feeling before. It’s pretty new. Back when I didn’t care, there were always people coming up to me, liking me, but I thought it was meaningless. Now… it feels like a tug-of-war every day.”

Gu Yi took a step back. “Liang Daiwen, do you think I’m trying to seduce you?”

“No.”

“Can’t you tell if I’m really upset or just pretending?”

It seemed like he couldn’t tell. But he sped up his speech, almost jumping up: “Well, I don’t care. You’ve already kissed me, and my neck took a month to heal from your bites. How can you act like nothing happened?” Liang Daiwen struggled, then forced out a sentence: “It’s supposed to be a fair competition between peers, but I thought about it, and since I’m a patient, while the top student easily takes first place, you should show more care for the underachiever.”

“What am I to you, that you need to give me special care?”

“Someone important... The camera will act as my way of ensuring fair competition. I’m leaving.”

The hallway was empty, with only Gu Yi and the scuffed white sneakers left at the door. Gu Yi faintly understood the implication. Liang Daiwen, who couldn’t express his feelings, didn’t really care about who won between her and Xu Guanyue. What mattered was that, between the lines, he read her sadness and came to cheer her up.

Immature.