TES - 19

The moment Shang Zhitao decided to learn how to drive, she acted on it immediately. Using the money her father had given her, she enrolled in a driving school, accompanied by Sun Yuanzhu.

Sun Yuanzhu was truly a wonderful young man—handsome, gentle, and kind, with an attentive and friendly gaze that made Shang Zhitao feel like she could swell into a cloud under his watchful eyes.

“I can keep you company on weekends while you learn to drive. I don’t have anything else to do anyway,” Sun Yuanzhu suggested, somewhat concerned about Shang Zhitao’s progress.

“You should go hang out with your friends, those lovely classmates of yours.”

“It won’t interfere. We usually meet up in the afternoon.”

“Oh, okay.” Shang Zhitao felt grateful for Sun Yuanzhu’s support. He had been helping her all along without even realizing it.

“The instructors might not always be polite. Each time you go, bring them a bottle of water or a pack of cigarettes. Don’t take their harsh words to heart,” Sun Yuanzhu advised her. During his own driving lessons, his instructor had said plenty of hurtful things. It seemed as though all instructors came from the same training program, using identical scolding phrases: “When I was learning, there were girls who cried after being scolded by the instructor.”

“That sounds terrifying...”

Shang Zhitao treated Sun Yuanzhu to some doenjang jjigae near his alma mater. As they sat surrounded by people of all kinds, she suddenly remembered her desire to improve her English and asked him, “Does your school have an English corner?”

“Why?”

Shang Zhitao shared her self-improvement plan with him, unashamed of her ambitions. Sun Yuanzhu didn’t laugh at her; instead, he found her earnest determination endearing.

“Let me introduce you to a foreign tutor. Don’t go to language institutes—they’re expensive. This tutor charges just 30 yuan for a 40-minute session, paid per lesson. You can chat with him, ask him all sorts of questions. Some of my TOEFL-prepping classmates were tutored by him.” Sun Yuanzhu pointed her toward a cost-effective and efficient path. Shang Zhitao nodded enthusiastically, making him chuckle. “I look forward to seeing your improvement plan succeed.”

“I will succeed.”

The foreign tutor Sun Yuanzhu introduced lived in the student dormitory of his alma mater. He was an American exchange student—tall and broad-shouldered, with classic American features and fluent Beijing-accented Mandarin. He had chosen a very down-to-earth Chinese name for himself: Long Zhentian. Shang Zhitao mulled it over—Long Zhentian, hmm, what a great name. Foreign students often picked such grounded Chinese names. Sometimes you’d suggest they change it, but they’d respond, “Isn’t this good enough?”

Long Zhentian asked Shang Zhitao, “What level do you want to reach?”

“I want to understand full English meetings without any barriers.”

“That’ll take some effort on your part.”

“Thank you for your help.”

Under Long Zhentian’s influence, Shang Zhitao unconsciously started speaking with a Beijing accent, and the three of them burst into laughter. Long Zhentian enjoyed making friends, and since Shang Zhitao was so adorable, he suggested heading to a nearby bar later.

The area around the school was frequented by Koreans. The bar was lively, filled with conversations in English, Korean, occasional French, and mostly Chinese. People of all kinds gathered there. It was Shang Zhitao’s first time in a bar, and she found it fascinating, looking around curiously. As she glanced to the side, her eyes met a pair of cold, distant ones.

What a small world.

Wasn’t that Luke? He was sitting with a group of friends—three men and two women. The men were strikingly handsome, and the women breathtakingly beautiful. Shang Zhitao thought of his girlfriend in Guangzhou, then looked at the women beside him. Trying to be friendly, she gave him a tentative smile.

Luan Nian withdrew his gaze and continued talking to Tan Mian: “So we’re leaving on Christmas?”

“Yes. Your company gives Christmas holidays, right?”

“Of course. Where are we going this year?”

“How about Hokkaido for hot springs? We’ve been so tired lately. Let’s pick somewhere not too far. We won’t visit family in the U.S. this time since we’ll go back during the Lunar New Year anyway. How does that sound?”

“Sounds good.”

“What about us?” one of the women asked.

“We never bring women on our trips,” Tan Mian replied apologetically with a smile. Well, except for Zang Yao. Luan Nian stood up. “I’m going to the restroom.”

The bar’s restroom was dimly lit. Shang Zhitao stumbled as she exited, nearly falling, but a hand grabbed her arm and pulled her upright. She quickly thanked the person: “Thank you, thank you!” Looking up, she saw Luan Nian.

“Come with me.”

With that, Luan Nian turned and walked away. Shang Zhitao followed him, the two of them stepping out of the bar, one in front of the other.

The surroundings were noisy. Luan Nian, with a cold expression, asked her, “Have you finished the report?”

On Friday, Alex had assigned Shang Zhitao the task of writing a joint project execution report for the planning and marketing departments, to be sent out by Sunday. Shang Zhitao had nearly completed it, with just the conclusion left to write—it wouldn’t be a problem to finish by tomorrow morning.

“Just the conclusion is left.”

“You’re at a bar when you haven’t finished the report?”

“…I…”

“Did you even do your homework before coming here?”

“What?”

Luan Nian was utterly exasperated. What kind of place was a bar for someone as scatterbrained as her to visit? And with two men, one of whom was a foreigner? Didn’t she even bring her own drink? Had she already succumbed to peer pressure after just arriving in Beijing?

But none of that was his concern—he only cared about the report: “Send me the report by midnight tonight.”

“But wasn’t it due tomorrow?”

“So you’ll wait until tomorrow? You think I don’t need time to review it?”

“I’ll go back and revise it right now.”

Wasn’t it because she had stumbled upon his “good times”? Now he was giving her a hard time again. Shang Zhitao silently fumed. She prided herself on not being devious, thinking her thoughts were well-hidden, but Luan Nian saw right through her: “Are you cursing me in your mind?”

“No, no!” Shang Zhitao shook her head vigorously, only making herself seem guiltier.

“Not a single typo in the report.”

“Yes, yes, understood.” Shang Zhitao’s bright eyes gazed at Luan Nian in the summer night breeze. Unconsciously, she blurted out a foolish remark: “Luke, don’t worry. I won’t say anything. I promise to keep your secrets.”

“Keep what secret?” Luan Nian asked, slipping his hands into his pockets and leaning against the bar’s exterior wall, watching her leisurely.

“Your… girlfriends…” She deliberately added the word “s” and glanced at Luan Nian guiltily. She thought it strange that she felt so guilty—his promiscuity wasn’t her fault, so why did she feel this way? Perhaps catching hold of her boss’s weaknesses made her uneasy.

Luan Nian suddenly smiled, his lips twitching slightly. “Alright, keep my secrets. I don’t have many hobbies—I just love women. If others find out, I’ll use any excuse to fire you.”

“Don’t worry!” Shang Zhitao quickly raised her fingers in a solemn vow. “I swear on my honor—I absolutely won’t tell anyone.” Her tone was earnest.

Idiot. Luan Nian cursed her in his mind, then turned and re-entered the bar.

“You were gone so long?”

“The line was long.” Luan Nian lied effortlessly.

“Friend, I just went. There was no one in the restroom,” Tan Mian called him out.

He didn’t bother explaining, sitting there drinking and listening to music. Occasionally, he glanced at Shang Zhitao. She seemed to be having a fine time, chatting and laughing with others, showing no intention of leaving.

As Shang Zhitao chatted with Long Zhentian, she noticed someone glaring at her repeatedly. It was annoying. Eventually, she had to pull Sun Yuanzhu aside to bid farewell to Long Zhentian before leaving the bar.

Back home, she took a quick shower and began working on the report. At 11:55 PM, she sent it to Alex and Luan Nian, then messaged them individually.

Alex was surprised: “You’re sending it so early?”

“To give the bosses time to review it.”

“It’s just a progress update—we don’t need revisions.”

...

Damn. That bastard Luan Nian. Shang Zhitao lay in bed, seething. The bar had been so fun—the music was great—but that jerk Luan Nian had scared and threatened her into going home.

After a long while, Luan Nian replied to her email with three points of feedback—yes, exactly three:

1. Add estimated recovery for each item in the project budget—something she had done before.

2. Include project sub-items, project leaders, and performance indicators.

3. Add contingency plans for unexpected situations.

Send it to me tomorrow.

Shang Zhitao opened her report and realized she hadn’t included any of these points. Luan Nian’s suggestions were fair and insightful. Though he was unpleasant, his feedback always hit the mark, like a strict teacher who consistently produced top students.

She climbed out of bed and revised the report according to Luan Nian’s feedback. Without realizing it, she had become a workaholic. If there were pending tasks, she couldn’t sleep, and her mind would constantly churn over them.

This revision lasted until 3 AM. After resending the email, she felt an immense sense of relief. Just as she was about to close her eyes, she received a message from Luan Nian: “Much better this time.”

Much better this time.

Shang Zhitao felt a twinge of happiness. Being praised felt good. She replied: “I’ll keep working hard. Thank you, Luke.”

Then she added: “Why aren’t you asleep yet?”

Luan Nian replied: “Nightlife.”

Nightlife, my ass. After leaving the bar, he had driven home with a designated driver. The slight buzz from the drinks made him restless and a little bored. He watched some American TV shows, read a bit, but still couldn’t fall asleep.

His only amusement was grading Shang Zhitao’s work, knowing she’d get up and revise it immediately. His terrifying control over her was fully unleashed. Suddenly, he thought maybe obedient women like Shang Zhitao weren’t so bad after all.

Though Shang Zhitao was slow, she was highly diligent. As Tracy once said: “She’s responsible.”

Her revised proposal was still far from perfect, nowhere near Luan Nian’s standards, but he had replied: “Much better this time.” Why? Probably to avoid employee burnout—a rare moment of compassion.

“Wow, nightlife. Then I won’t disturb you. Good night, Luke.”

That “wow” was carefully chosen, rich with meaning. Luan Nian could almost picture Shang Zhitao’s gossipy face, her inability to hide emotions clearly written across her features: Tsk tsk, clothes off yet?

For the first time ever, Luan Nian replied: “Good night.” Then he tossed his phone aside and went to bed.

Shang Zhitao slept until noon. Remembering Luan Nian’s guidance on writing reports the day before, she realized she still hadn’t truly mastered how to write one. So, she carried her laptop to the living room. Her roommates were quietly chatting and greeted her when she emerged: “Finally awake?”

Shang Zhitao smiled sheepishly, placed her laptop on the table, excused herself to freshen up, and returned to sit down. “I’d like to ask you all for advice,” she said humbly.

“On what?” Zhang Lei asked.

“I don’t know how to write work reports...” Shang Zhitao admitted shyly. “All of you are more experienced than me. Could you teach me how to write a proper work report?” She was startled by her own diligence. If only she had applied this much effort during school, she could have easily gotten into a top university. Instead, she had slacked off and was now being punished in the workplace—served her right.

Zhang Lei quickly raised his hands in surrender. “This isn’t my forte. Ask Brother Yuanzhu.”

“All of you are capable,” Shang Zhitao said modestly, her sincere eyes fixed on everyone. “I have so much to learn. My journey to improvement is still long!”

Sun Yu, who had a sales background, stood up and draped an arm around Shang Zhitao’s shoulders. “How about Big Sister teaching you how to drink instead?”

Everyone burst into laughter.

The laughter in that room lingered for years. A decade later, at 32, Shang Zhitao visited Beijing for business and arranged to meet Sun Yu for drinks nearby. By then, Sun Yu had become a big shot in the matchmaking industry, impeccably made-up and casually discussing multi-million-dollar investments. Drunk, she pointed to the lights above and jokingly said to Shang Zhitao, “Maybe I should buy this place?”

Forget it.

Shang Zhitao hugged her tightly, and they sobbed uncontrollably on a street in North Fifth Ring Road.