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A breakup doesn’t seem like such a big deal after all. Aside from the emptiness in my heart, as if a blank sheet of white has been painted over it, nothing much else has changed.
Aside from that, I still work, eat, sleep, and pet my cat as usual.
— The Diary of a Little Rich Girl
He actually said it?!
Assistant Gao actually dared to say it? Couldn’t he just make something up? How could he blurt it out like that?
The secretaries thought Assistant Gao was surely dead. They all discreetly glanced at Mr. Tang, too afraid to breathe.
Tang Yu’s face darkened as he glared at Gao Heng. But his assistant appeared so earnest, as if he had merely answered an ordinary question. Tang Yu crossed his arms and sneered coldly: “Gao Heng, your overtime pay for this month is gone.”
Gao Heng: “….”
His heart ached. What did his overtime pay do wrong? Why punish it!
He hadn’t said anything wrong!
Tang Yu looked at his expression with a mocking smile and asked: “Unhappy?”
Gao Heng put on a serious face and shook his head sorrowfully: “No, Mr. Tang’s decision is completely justified.”
What justification.
Brother-in-law and little sister-in-law…
Must have read too many smutty novels.
Tang Yu turned around with a cold face and left a sentence: “Come in and take the documents out.”
Gao Heng wiped his sweat and quickly followed inside.
The secretaries collapsed back into their chairs, Zhou Secretary patting her chest softly: “Scared me to death. I thought Mr. Tang would fire Assistant Gao on the spot!”
Chen Secretary also felt relieved: “Assistant Gao really dared to say that…”
They would never dare to gossip about their boss in the office again; they were scared witless.
Inside the office—
Gao Heng picked up the signed documents. Tang Yu, who had been gazing out the window absentmindedly, suddenly turned around and asked quietly: “Did Tang Xin often come to my office? Did she often freeload meals?”
Gao Heng thought for a moment and replied: “If you were in the company, she came about every two days, freeloading a meal once a week, usually when you were working overtime.”
Over this long period, Gao Heng had memorized Tang Xin’s preferences. She liked sweet and rich foods, drank juice after meals, or ate pudding.
Tang Yu lowered his eyes and carefully recalled. It seemed true. She would come upstairs whether she had business or not. If he was busy, she would chat briefly with Gao Heng or Huo Chendong before leaving.
She rarely overstayed, so he never felt disturbed or annoyed.
He raised his eyelids slightly: “Since when?”
Gao Heng recalled: “Not long after the Anti-Terror project started.”
It was shortly after he added her on WeChat, about a year ago.
So, had she started liking him from then?
“Alright, you can leave.”
After Gao Heng left, Tang Yu stared absently at the sofa. In the past, when he worked overtime, Tang Xin would come upstairs to freeload his boxed meals, even justifying it: “Anyway, I’d be eating takeout alone if I went home. Ordering one more meal won’t bankrupt you, Mr. Tang.”
He narrowed his eyes, stretched out his long arm, grabbed the phone on the table, opened WeChat, and scrolled down for a long time to find Tang Xin’s chat box. The last message was from March 31st night—
Little Rich Girl: I named my cat Juanhua. Is it good?
He replied: Whatever makes you happy.
Her final message was an emoticon of a little loli rolling her eyes, pouting, and turning her back with her head facing away.
Even now, their conversation remained stuck on that emoticon.
It perfectly captured her angry and tsundere demeanor.
He opened her social media feed. After that post where she beat up the pig-headed guy, her posts gradually returned to normal. It seemed the breakup didn’t affect her much—just a five-day recovery period.
After recovering, she slowly drifted out of his life.
This realization made Tang Yu feel somewhat disoriented and even hard to accept. It was as if something important had suddenly disappeared from his life.
He furrowed his brows, possessed by some strange impulse, and opened the chat box to start typing: Tang Xin, are you…
Halfway through, he paused.
Then deleted it.
Typed again, deleted again, typed again, deleted again…
He had rejected her; it was right for her not to cling to him. And now, aside from being her boss, he was nothing else. There wasn’t much work-related contact either. Whatever he said seemed inappropriate.
A few seconds later, the phone was tossed back onto the table with a bang.
________________________________________
Tang Xin had just finished eating her takeout and was sitting on the carpet hugging Juanhua while opening WeChat. Her eyes immediately fell on the chat box pinned at the top. She hesitated for a moment but couldn’t resist opening it.
She scrolled through the chat history and couldn’t help frowning.
Pig-head.
She decided to unpin the chat.
Just as she was about to exit, she was surprised to see at the top: “The other party is typing…”
She froze, her heartbeat accelerating. She widened her eyes, holding her breath as she stared at those six words.
1 minute…
2 minutes…
3 minutes…
For the first three minutes, the chat box continuously showed “The other party is typing…” Suddenly, it stopped.
Tang Xin waited anxiously, almost turning into a stone. Yet, she received nothing.
Tang Yu sent nothing.
Furious!
In anger, she exited the chat and unpinned it, letting it sink into oblivion! Out of sight, out of mind!
________________________________________
These days were the film festival, and the trending topics on Weibo changed rapidly, like waves rolling in one after another. Tang Xin, while scrolling through Weibo and indulging in gossip, trailed behind the project team like a novice, suddenly feeling bored.
She wasn’t interested in Republican-era dramas and didn’t know how to write them.
Even if she joined ten Republican-era drama teams in the future, she doubted she could write a single script, let alone become the chief screenwriter.
When she told Tang Yu that she just wanted to follow the new project, she now felt like quitting. Being part of this team seemed meaningless.
Her distracted state lasted for about three days, even Huang Siyi noticed it and sneered: “Is it because you think you’ll fly off with Lu Dad and don’t want to be a small screenwriter behind this project anymore?”
Tang Xin frowned, unusually not retorting but standing up and smiling at Huang Siyi: “Then I’ll quit the project team.”
Huang Siyi was startled: “Ah?”
Zhou Dan and several other screenwriters also looked over. The chief editor asked concernedly: “You want to quit? Why?”
Though Tang Xin wasn’t very suitable for this project team, since Mr. Tang pushed her in, they couldn’t refuse. Helping out a bit wasn’t a problem.
Tang Xin looked at the chief editor and smiled: “I think I can’t contribute much to this team. It would be better to quit and let someone more suitable join. Thank you all for taking care of me during this time. I’ll go talk to Mr. Tang.”
After saying that, she turned and walked away.
The others in the office were stunned, looking at each other.
Tang Xin’s footsteps were light as she walked to the elevator. After waiting for a while, the elevator arrived, and she calmly stepped in.
Upstairs, Chen Secretary, who hadn’t seen her in several days, was startled and quickly stood up with a smile: “Miss Tang, are you here to see Mr. Tang?”
Tang Xin nodded: “Yes, is he here?”
Chen Secretary just said: “Yes.”
Gao Heng, holding documents, opened the CEO’s office door. Seeing Tang Xin, he was momentarily stunned. Before he could close the door, Tang Xin saw through the half-open door—behind the large desk, the man was leaning casually in his chair, eyes closed, head slightly tilted back, his jawline forming an extremely sexy contour.
As if sensing something, he abruptly opened his eyes and turned to look.
At that moment, Tang Xin’s heartbeat quickened. Gao Heng stepped back towards the door and calmly reported: “Mr. Tang, Miss Tang is here.”
Tang Yu didn’t change his posture, his eyes half-closed, his voice low: “Let her in.”
Tang Xin looked at Gao Heng, smiled, and walked straight in.
Gao Heng thoughtfully closed the door.
Tang Yu maintained his position, staring at her until she stood in front of the desk.
For some reason, he instinctively felt her coming here wasn’t good news.
Sure enough.
The little girl in front of him smiled slightly: “Mr. Tang, I want to quit the current project team. For me, this project…”
“Stop.”
Tang Yu frowned, interrupting in a deep voice.
Tang Xin looked at him, blinking: “What’s wrong?”
Tang Yu couldn’t bear her innocent look. He licked his lips, sat up straight, placed his arms on the desk, and coldly stared at her in silence. After a while, he self-deprecatingly curved his lips: “Quit the project team, what’s next?”
“What next?”
Tang Xin didn’t understand, looking at him in confusion.
Tang Yu impatiently tapped his fingers on the desk a few times and stood up directly, his height advantage showing. He looked down at her, even the curve of his eyes exuding coldness: “There is no next step.”
Tang Xin: “….”
She looked at him sullenly, muttering: “That’s not what I said.”
Tang Yu pressed his lips tightly, suppressing his anger, and controlled himself as he looked at her: “Why do you want to quit?”
Tang Xin honestly replied: “Because I think this project is too difficult for me, and I’m not interested in this genre. I can’t contribute much to the project team, and it feels boring… Might as well quit and let others take over.”
Quitting the project now, what’s next? Does she plan to resign?
Leave Shiguang Pictures?
Then go find her Lu Dad?
Tang Yu kept guessing in his mind, becoming increasingly impatient. He frowned and glared at her: “Who will replace you?”
Tang Xin seriously considered it and sincerely suggested: “Han Xiaoxiao? She’s actually very diligent.”
He sneered coldly, his expression indifferent.
Tang Xin: “….”
Looking at him, her temper rose. She glared and said: “Mr. Tang, what do you mean now? Quitting a project team isn’t unusual, right? Other projects have had screenwriters quit too. If it doesn’t work, just replace them. Aren’t you the one who likes doing these things the most?”
Tang Yu rarely saw her this angry. He paused, his brows furrowing deeper: “The project team was something you previously expressed interest in joining.”
“That was before I knew it would be a Republican-era drama, and…” Tang Xin suddenly paused, turning her face away, half-profile facing him, resembling that tsundere emoticon, just short of turning her back completely: “Anyway, I’m applying to quit the project team now. If you don’t agree, there’s nothing I can do.”
“Tang Xin.”
Tang Yu called her name in a restrained and low voice.
Tang Xin turned her face back to look at him, her expression not much better.
If she didn’t turn back soon, he would have twisted her face around.
The man’s hand rested on the desk, half-closed eyes staring intently at her. Suddenly, he chuckled coldly: “Leaving the project team, then where will you go? Fly off with your Lu Dad?”
Tang Xin: “….”
Author’s Note: Little Rich Girl: I want to stab needles into Tang Dad’s heart, stab stab stab...
Tang Dad: …Panicking like crazy.
I heard quite a few people have taken a liking to Assistant Gao? He’s the kind of high-energy, loyal yet upright sidekick—adorably sarcastic and lovably annoying…
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