TES - 14

Shang Zhitao thought being Luan Nian’s secretary must be thrilling. Just moments ago, he was all smiles and charm with the first client, but now, with the second, the atmosphere had shifted entirely.

She struggled to describe her feelings. She had never seen a party on the receiving end challenge the client so boldly. Perhaps it was because she was still new to the workforce, yet to encounter the “demons” of the professional world.

The issue arose when the second client mentioned that the creative needed “minor adjustments.”

Shang Zhitao assumed minor adjustments meant tweaking colors or resizing elements—everyone did. But no, not this client. In slow, accented Cantonese Mandarin, he declared, “We think this advertisement needs to be completely redone.” The Guangzhou team was stunned. They glanced at Luan Nian.

Ignoring the client’s statement, Luan Nian tapped his knuckles on the table and turned to Shang Zhitao. “When you worked on that project during school, what did the client ask you to adjust?”

Huh? That school project? Only then did Shang Zhitao recall mentioning it during one of Luan Nian’s interviews. He hadn’t said a word then, leading her to believe he hadn’t been paying attention.

“The client asked us to rearrange the venue setup.”

“Did they ask you to add anything?”

“No.”

“Did they ask you to choose a new venue?”

“No.”

Luan Nian nodded, then asked the Guangzhou team, “Do we have email records confirming each round of communication?”

“Yes.”

“Show them to Mr. Qin.”

In business, integrity mattered. If the sample video had already been produced and the client suddenly demanded a complete redo, it was equivalent to paying for two sets of creative work with one budget—an unfair practice. Back then, the advertising market wasn’t as transparent or equitable. Even L&M occasionally faced such bullying tactics.

The Guangzhou team, seasoned professionals, calmly presented past emails to the client: “See here? Every step has been confirmed.”

“So what do we do? Last night, during our meeting, everyone suddenly felt there were issues,” the client whined.

“I understand your company’s changes in creativity and aesthetics. A complete redo isn’t feasible. I’ll have finance contact you to calculate the sample video costs. You can find another agency.”

Huh? Shang Zhitao thought she misheard. Could he really do that? But Luan Nian was serious. He began packing up. “We’ll delete the sample video. I’ll have finance calculate the lowest possible cost, refund the initial payment, and consider it a friendly gesture.” He extended his hand to Mr. Qin. “Thank you, Mr. Qin.”

Mr. Qin, accustomed to being on the client side, had never encountered such resistance. Though taken aback, he remained composed as a businessman. “Alright, let’s regroup today and discuss further before contacting everyone.”

“Fine.” Luan Nian glanced at the Guangzhou team and left the room, his decisiveness leaving jaws dropped.

Following behind him, Shang Zhitao felt her blood pressure rising. The expenditure for that advertisement, handled by the marketing department, was enormous—a figure she had seen just last week. And Luan Nian simply walked away?

Without looking back, Luan Nian strode off. Shang Zhitao hurried after him, confusion etched across her face.

“If you don’t understand, ask.” Luan Nian couldn’t stand people bottling things up.

“So… we’re not cooperating anymore?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“So… we’re compensating?”

“Mm-hmm.”

...

Luan Nian gestured to the bustling traffic. “You like hailing cabs, right? Go ahead.” He retreated into the shadows between buildings, leaving time for Shang Zhitao to ponder. This girl wore her thoughts plainly on her face—transparently naive.

Client negotiations required teamwork. Luan Nian wasn’t close to this client, so he made his stance clear and left, allowing the local team to smooth things over. One firm, one flexible—they complemented each other to resolve issues without letting the client dictate terms. Shang Zhitao would eventually understand; for now, Luan Nian enjoyed teasing her.

Shang Zhitao stood stiffly while hailing a cab, her demeanor rigid and outdated for someone in her early twenties. Despite her youthful energy, her posture—walking, sitting, standing—felt oddly out of place in this era.

Luan Nian recalled her stomping her foot angrily at the airport amidst the crowd: “I’m not leaving!” Even at her angriest, she was harmless.

They boarded the taxi Shang Zhitao hailed, heading to a dinner banquet. She still couldn’t wrap her head around it—the loss of such a significant deal. After stealing several glances at Luan Nian, she finally blurted, “You’re really letting it go?”

“If you care, chase after it yourself.” Luan Nian tossed the words casually, leaning back to rest his eyes. Shang Zhitao stole a glance at him, her gaze landing on his slightly raised jawline, and suddenly flushed.

She thought about sex.

Out of nowhere.

Perhaps the heat in Guangzhou altered her environment, stirring unexpected desires toward her boss who constantly discouraged her. It was normal—everyone had impure thoughts. Shang Zhitao mentally prepared her defense: if ever tried in court for harboring improper thoughts about her boss, her argument would surely crumble under scrutiny.

The banquet took place by the Pearl River, offering a view of the iconic Canton Tower through the windows.

“And who might this lovely lady be?” Zhou Yuchi noticed Shang Zhitao sitting quietly, distinct from L&M’s usual employees.

“Shang Zhitao. You can call me Flora.” She responded politely.

“Miss Shang is pure and gentle, with a wonderful demeanor.” Zhou Yuchi complimented her earnestly.

Shang Zhitao blushed again. Amidst the lively banquet, her blush stood out like a lone red plum blossom on a snowy plain.

The men couldn’t help but steal extra glances. Luan Nian followed their gazes, noticing her pink earlobes.

“Miss Shang, would you like some wine?” Zhou Yuchi offered.

“Sorry, I don’t drink.”

“Not even a small sip?” Zhou persisted. At banquets, women claiming they didn’t drink were often just deflecting; once they started, most could hold their liquor well.

Unfamiliar with such situations, Shang Zhitao didn’t know how to decline.

“She really can’t drink tonight. She has to help me write a report later,” Luan Nian interjected, turning to Shang Zhitao. “Flora, stay sober and send out my report tonight, please.”

Sales director Cheng Yihang Apollo exchanged a glance with Luan Nian, silently agreeing to spare her embarrassment.

Calmly, Luan Nian sent Apollo a message: “If the lady gets drunk and embarrasses herself, don’t blame me if you lose the deal.”

Having chased this client for so long, Apollo understood Luan Nian’s implication. Raising his glass to Zhou Yuchi, he proposed, “Flora indeed has important tasks. Let’s toast among ourselves!”

Everyone happily drank while Shang Zhitao sat quietly beside Luan Nian, watching him sip steadily from small cups. His tolerance was impressive—he consumed over half a liter without changing expression. Yet, he rarely ate, focusing instead on sipping wine as though tasting it, occasionally drinking a spoonful of hot soup.

Mesmerized by his profile, Shang Zhitao dared not stare too long—but she didn’t need to; she had memorized every detail.

Their table conversation spanned a wide range of topics: military, politics, history, philosophy—whatever came to mind. Luan Nian spoke little but knew everything, delivering sharp insights when he did. Sometimes, he placed his hand on the table—long fingers, clean nails, and a prominent blue vein on the back. A mature man of twenty-eight, clean, refined, sharp, and handsome. Shang Zhitao’s lingering impure thoughts about him refused to dissipate.

As the drinking continued, talk turned to women. No matter how successful, men often discussed women when intoxicated, as if their towering image couldn’t stand without it.

When talk veered toward women, Luan Nian rarely spoke.

He found it vulgar.

Luan Nian could share light jokes with close friends—but only light ones. Anything deeper, like the subtle innuendos exchanged at the table tonight, he neither spoke nor wished to hear.

Apollo, growing tipsy, discussed intimate matters with Zhou Yuchi, both veterans concluding with phrases like “each has its merits.” Shang Zhitao didn’t understand but recognized from their expressions that it wasn’t wholesome talk.

After listening for a while, Luan Nian stood up and exited. Three minutes later, he returned, phone still pressed to his ear, smiling apologetically at everyone before gesturing to Shang Zhitao. “Flora, come listen in on this conference call.”

Relieved, Shang Zhitao followed him out. Luan Nian handed her the phone, adding, “Don’t answer incoming calls or reply to messages.”

Pausing momentarily, Shang Zhitao realized—Luan Nian was rescuing her. Grateful, she suddenly saw him differently. Though he appeared cold and harsh, especially toward her, he continuously guided her, acting as her teacher in many ways.