TES - 18

When we are young, we inevitably take a few detours.

Shang Zhitao’s first detour was buying that cup of coffee for Luan Nian. Later on, she would think how foolish she had been, attempting to take shortcuts instead of putting in genuine effort.

Very few people succeed by taking shortcuts—those who do are the favored children of fate. Most must work step by step, with results always uncertain.

Besides, Luan Nian didn’t seem like someone who appreciated shortcuts; to him, they were nothing but opportunistic tricks.

After stepping out of the elevator and sitting at her desk, Shang Zhitao carefully reflected on Luan Nian’s words and realized he was right. Work truly tested one’s mettle—it had awakened her potential for learning and self-reflection in such a short time.

She earnestly summarized her work for the first time. She had been constantly busy, never pausing to reflect systematically. As she typed out her tasks on the computer, she was amazed: Wow, I’ve done so many trivial things, and surprisingly, I’ve learned so much.

Later, she often reviewed her work. This habit of rational reflection stayed with her throughout her career.

In hindsight, Luan Nian was actually an excellent mentor.

That evening, after all the talented colleagues had left, Shang Zhitao stayed behind to create a personal improvement plan for herself.

Everyone has made improvement plans or wish lists at some point.

Shang Zhitao thought deeply about the gap between herself and her colleagues, jotting down her improvement goals and even drafting a wish list for before she turned thirty. She didn’t intend to show it to anyone, locking it away in her drawer when she finished.

Suddenly, she felt clarity about her goals. It was an invigorating sensation.

Sometimes, interactions between adults can be unexpectedly profound.

The next morning, she arrived early at the office and dived into her work, so absorbed that she didn’t notice someone approach her desk. That day marked her first time hosting a supplier meeting for the marketing department, and she needed to review the process thoroughly.

A cup of iced Americano was placed on her desk. Startled, she looked up to see Luan Nian standing beside her. “Here’s your coffee,” he said nonchalantly.

“You’re too kind…” Shang Zhitao felt awkward, recalling the embarrassment from the previous day’s coffee incident.

Luan Nian didn’t respond. Instead, he picked up her notebook and began flipping through it. Her handwriting was impeccable—the best he’d seen among everyone he knew. If Lingmei ever fired her, she could make a living selling calligraphy books. Her penmanship was truly pleasing to the eye.

“Having a supplier meeting this afternoon?” Luan Nian asked.

“Yes, I’m preparing.”

“Among these suppliers, which has the highest execution efficiency? Who cooperates the most? Which accepts the longest payment cycles? What’s the maximum advance payment they can handle? And what are their respective specialties?” He paused. “Have you organized this data?”

“I… haven’t.”

“There’s no historical data on this?” Luan Nian pressed.

“No.” Shang Zhitao nodded. In the marketing department, suppliers were chosen haphazardly when projects came in, with random bidding. Most companies operated this way.

Luan Nian raised his eyebrows slightly and walked away.

Shang Zhitao sat there stunned for a long moment, suddenly realizing that the marketing department lacked a unified supplier parameter database. She stared at the coffee for a while before calling Yao Bei. “Senior Sister, can I ask you a favor?”

“What is it, Taotao?”

“I remember you saying state-owned enterprises manage suppliers very strictly. Can I see your supplier entry parameters?”

“Only the headers—no sensitive information.”

“The headers will do. Thank you, Senior Sister.”

“Don’t mention it. Three minutes.”

Shang Zhitao suddenly felt the joy of work.

Before, she had been too rigid, executing tasks mechanically without broadening her perspective. She had never thought about these issues from a higher vantage point. She felt a flicker of gratitude toward Luan Nian, took a sip of the iced coffee—it wasn’t bitter at all, thanks to the added syrup.

“Thank you, Luke. I’ll immediately start organizing the supplier information,” she messaged Luan Nian sincerely. He didn’t reply, of course—he never would. But he raised his eyebrows slightly, thinking that the student he personally guided wasn’t entirely hopeless. With a bit of guidance, she could just barely hold her own.

Unbeknownst to himself, Luan Nian had already begun to see Shang Zhitao as his student—a subtle shift in his mindset.

That afternoon, the marketing department’s meeting included Luan Nian as well. His appointment was imminent, and everyone knew it. Some accepted it; others didn’t. But regardless of feelings, appearances had to be maintained.

Alex was indifferent. He had collaborated with Luan Nian on a few projects and was more familiar with him. Inviting Luan Nian to this external meeting was a gesture to signal alignment.

As the meeting host, Shang Zhitao prepared extensively. Before it started, Alex proudly mentioned to Luan Nian, “This morning, we’ve cooked up a big dish to pave the way for professionalism and systematization in our company’s external management.”

“Looking forward to it,” Luan Nian replied curtly.

At the beginning, Shang Zhitao was a little nervous, a few strands of hair damp with sweat clinging to her face. Both Alex and Lu Mi held their breaths. Luan Nian overheard Alex asking Lu Mi, “Are you sure there won’t be any issues?”

“No issues,” Lu Mi replied, though she still sat upright, tense on Shang Zhitao’s behalf.

Seeing Luan Nian’s seemingly unsurprised expression in the center of the room, Shang Zhitao suddenly found her fighting spirit. She wasn’t entirely useless. After Alex spoke, she gradually relaxed.

The meeting agenda included several key points: reviewing past project progress, introducing major projects and bidding plans for the second half of the year, answering questions, and finally unveiling Lingmei Marketing’s new supplier evaluation system.

Yes, earlier that morning, after receiving Yao Bei’s data, Shang Zhitao realized Lingmei needed a systematic approach to supplier onboarding and termination—like exams, with clear thresholds for passing, retaking, or dismissal. She shared her idea with Lu Mi, who widened her eyes and patted Shang Zhitao’s shoulder. “Amazing, Shang Zhitao! This kind of system isn’t common in the market!”

Alex praised her too: “Flora is truly impressive.”

The entire marketing team spent the morning brainstorming this system in the conference room, skipping lunch altogether.

Fairness was crucial in the market—big-name suppliers needed oversight, while smaller companies deserved opportunities. A systematic framework would bring management onto the right track and avoid many financial issues.

Luan Nian was smart, but also daring.

He was about to take over Lingmei China, hoping to bring change to the company. But not all changes should occur only after he took charge. During Monday’s weekly meeting, Alex announced the supplier meeting, and on Tuesday morning, a sugary iced Americano appeared on Shang Zhitao’s desk. Luan Nian casually picked up her notebook and asked her a few pointed questions.

If Shang Zhitao failed to grasp his hints, Luan Nian wouldn’t have been surprised.

But she did understand—and acted swiftly. Her determination to improve the status quo impressed him. When he saw her message that morning, he thought achieving understanding was enough. Yet, she delivered a flawless performance, which was somewhat surprising.

No matter how pleased he was, he remained expressionless, typing on his laptop as if detached. The corporate environment was like a deep pool—high places were lonely. He couldn’t appear overly ambitious or effortlessly perfect. Everything depended on timing and hard work.

The final segment of the meeting was brilliant. Luan Nian heard the supplier bosses whispering, but overall, they approved of Lingmei Marketing’s new policies.

For the first time, work gave Shang Zhitao a sense of accomplishment.

After the meeting, as she compiled the minutes, she reflected on her gains. She hoped that in any future task, she could think more broadly and adopt a different perspective. Only then could she go further. After twenty-two years of aimlessly drifting, Shang Zhitao suddenly had a professional aspiration.

Her meeting minutes weren’t finalized until after midnight. Sitting semi-hunched over for hours had stiffened her neck and shoulders. Stretching her limbs, she noticed Luan Nian’s office light still on—he was focused on his work.

Why was he leaving so late?

Shang Zhitao’s feelings toward Luan Nian were complex. She feared him, yet sometimes felt he was teaching her.

She wanted to thank him again but thought it would be redundant—he disliked being disturbed.

With that thought, she packed up her things and left the office.

Buoyed by her sense of achievement, she felt light and floaty, not tired at all despite the late hour. The only downside was the difficulty of hailing a cab. Everything else was perfect. Standing roadside, she tried flagging down taxis, but many people were leaving work late, and cabs were scarce.

After over half an hour, she considered walking a bit to test her luck when a car pulled up in front of her. It was Luan Nian.

Shang Zhitao hesitated to trouble him again, waving him off. “It’s too late. You should head home.”

“Same route,” Luan Nian said, opening the car door.

Glancing at the time, she decided against being stubborn and got in. It was too late to refuse.

“Really the same route?”

“Not if you get out now,” Luan Nian quipped, starting the engine. After less than twenty days of working together, Shang Zhitao had grown accustomed to his manner of speaking. She chuckled nervously and asked, “Where do you live?”

“Near you.” Luan Nian wasn’t lying—there was a villa district fifteen minutes from Shang Zhitao’s place.

“Why do you live so far? Wouldn’t it be more convenient near the office?”

“Why do you live so far?”

“I don’t have enough money to rent closer,” Shang Zhitao replied without shame. Fresh out of college and yet to receive her first paycheck, she knew better than to expect financial ease.

Luan Nian said nothing, glancing at her. Even in the car, she sat primly, legs tightly pressed together, as if bracing for danger.

“Are you afraid of me?”

“What?”

“Do you fear me?”

“No. If I were, I wouldn’t have gotten into your car.”

Shang Zhitao spoke lightly, avoiding looking at Luan Nian. Turning her head to gaze out the window, the vibrant night sparked a thought: perhaps she should learn to drive. Yes, definitely learn to drive. What era was it, and she still couldn’t drive!

Luan Nian turned on the music, easing Shang Zhitao’s tension. Finally, she turned her head forward and even initiated conversation: “Thank you for today.”

“For what?”

“For your guidance this morning.” Shang Zhitao continued, “I know I lack talent, even mediocrity defines me. So I accept your criticism and advice. I only ask for some time to grow.”

Luan Nian studied her closely, unusually acknowledging her with a soft “Mm.”

“If I have questions or uncertainties in the future, may I consult you?”

“Don’t you have a mentor? Or a boss?”

“They’re different.”

How different? Alex and Lu Mi made Shang Zhitao feel at ease—they made her believe that even if mediocre, she was still accepted. Luan Nian was different. He kept her perpetually aware of the risk of being eliminated. From him, she had learned so much. In less than twenty days, his methods had nudged her thinking upward, just a small step, but significant.

“Don’t ask me stupid questions. Think carefully before posing any,” Luan Nian implicitly agreed to her request, adding his sole condition.