Chapter 77: The Tail

Rushing hurriedly to the light meal café downstairs at the TV station, Yin Mengxi indeed spotted Director He seated by the window—a familiar figure with her neat, short hair, though now dressed more casually and comfortably than during her earlier, stricter days at the station.

For some inexplicable reason, she felt a wave of emotion seeing her—it was like seeing family. After taking a moment to compose herself, she walked to the counter and ordered a hot chocolate and two servings of grain bowls. Once the items were ready, she carried them over to the window where He Yarong sat.

Director He noticed her approach almost immediately, her eyes lighting up slightly as she smiled. “You… we’re just chatting casually, why did you go and order something?”

That casual “you” conveyed familiarity. She was the leader who had nurtured her, but also a precious friend and mentor.

“Teacher Luo said you hadn’t eaten, and coincidentally, neither had I,” Yin Mengxi replied, sitting down across from He Yarong with a rare trace of ease in her smile. “I got a little something—it’s not expensive.”

The rapport between them was evident.

He Yarong chuckled softly, shaking her head before accepting her gesture, picking up the cup to sip the steaming hot chocolate.

“How have things been recently?” she asked, always appearing so composed. “Are you getting along well with Old Luo?”

It wasn’t an easy question to answer. A shallow response would seem distant, while going into detail might burden her. Director He had already retired—there was no reason for her to worry about an underperforming junior like her.

“It’s all good,” Yin Mengxi responded habitually, masking her true feelings. “Teacher Luo is very kind.”

But such words couldn’t deceive the sharp-eyed Director He. She knew her too well, and after decades in the industry, could easily see through the lie from the protégé she had personally mentored.

“Is that so?” He Yarong gently set the cup down, her eyes still smiling. “I heard you’ve run into some trouble.”

This was her way of cutting to the chase—she clearly already knew about Yin Mengxi’s situation. Who could have told her? Luo Hua?

“Ah…” Yin Mengxi felt a bit awkward.

He Yarong gave a faint smile, placing the cup on the table and sighing. “Though I’m retired and can’t directly help much, I can still listen to your grievances. There’s no need to put on a brave face in front of me, child.”

Yin Mengxi had grown accustomed to being called “Teacher Yin” at the station, and hearing “child” again stirred complex emotions within her—warm nostalgia mingled with a sense of stagnation.

“It’s just those issues…” She half-lowered her head, pursing her lips. “I had a conflict with Sun Jianbin. He kicked me out of the Program Center, then yesterday he approached me again, saying he wanted to transfer me back to work on Never Stop . I refused, and he threatened to keep me stuck in documentary programming forever…”

Her words were simple, but the weight of the setbacks behind them was palpable.

Yet He Yarong’s expression remained calm. Having spent so many years in the industry, she considered this merely a minor issue—challenging, yes, but not catastrophic.

“What do you think of Old Luo?” she suddenly interjected.

“Teacher Luo?” Yin Mengxi blinked, surprised by the abrupt change in topic. “He…”

“Just say what you think,” He Yarong waved dismissively. “No need to hold back.”

Yin Mengxi knew Director He was someone who valued straightforwardness. Even with her close relationship with Luo Hua, she wouldn’t mind hearing the truth. After weighing her words carefully, she replied, “Teacher Luo… perhaps hasn’t been focusing much on the station lately…”

A polite understatement—he was obsessively glued to the stock market, passing the buck and slacking off entirely.

He Yarong laughed at this, calling her sly. She took another sip of her chocolate, her demeanor settling into a reflective state.

“Old Luo used to be quite capable…”

He Yarong began recalling.

“He was my junior in college. After graduation, we went our separate ways, only to meet again at the station. You must know about the 2009 documentary Pilgrims ?”

Pilgrims?

Of course, she was familiar with it—a highly acclaimed piece in the industry, even winning an academy award.

“That was Old Luo’s project idea, and he was in charge until the pre-production stage.”

Ah.

It was astonishing to hear that the now seemingly carefree Luo Hua had once worked on such a prestigious project.

But…

“I don’t recall seeing this on Teacher Luo’s résumé…” Yin Mengxi furrowed her brows. “Wasn’t the producer of Pilgrims Teacher Jiang Pingping, who later transferred to Beijing Station?”

“Yes,” He Yarong smiled faintly. “What do you think happened?”

Why?

Could it be…

“Old Luo is one of those unlucky ones,” He Yarong sighed, not prolonging the suspense. “He had a conflict with the station director. Midway through the project, he was ousted. His temper was worse than yours—he wanted to fight back, but ultimately he was suppressed. To quell the matter, they gave him the position of channel supervisor—a cold seat he’s occupied for over a decade.”

Yin Mengxi: “….”

“He was heartbroken. After that, he stopped taking anything seriously, coasting from his early forties until now. Was it worth it?”

“At first, he stubbornly insisted it was, but deep down, only he knows the bitterness of self-exile… He regrets it, which is why today he asked me to come talk to you.”

At this, Yin Mengxi was stunned, utterly incredulous. “Teacher Luo…?”

“He’s become so lax, he doesn’t even know how to have a proper conversation anymore,” He Yarong’s gaze was filled with affection, both as a senior colleague and as an elder. “But he admires you greatly. He doesn’t want you to follow his old path.”

“Ah…” Yin Mengxi didn’t know what to say.

“Life is short—a few choices can determine everything,” He Yarong continued, her age lending her profound wisdom. Unlike her sharp-edged days as a director, she now appeared gentler and more compassionate. “Both Teacher Luo and I hope you’ll pull yourself together. Don’t do things you’ll regret.”

“Yes, you’ve been wronged. People like Sun Jianbin may never face consequences. The workplace is cruel—karma doesn’t always apply here.”

“But you don’t need to dwell on that. Hold onto the line you can’t cross, and let the rest unfold as it pleases. It’s okay to feel disheartened, to be tired, or even to quit altogether—as long as you’re sure you won’t regret it later, any choice is fine.”

No regrets…

What a difficult proposition. Who could foresee the future? The cost of regret would take a lifetime to repay, and avoiding it often led to unfavorable outcomes.

“I don’t want to give up…” Yin Mengxi’s lashes trembled faintly. “…I can’t give up.”

It was the expected answer. He Yarong’s expression showed no surprise. Setting her cup down, she leaned closer.

“Then don’t give up.”

“Believe me, child—you’ll shine wherever you go. The Program Center isn’t as great as it seems, and documentary programming isn’t as bad. Focus on learning and doing your best—you’ll achieve better results.”

“Even if you don’t, it’s alright. Treat this time as a break to adjust your rhythm. One day, you’ll realize that fame and money are like a cat’s tail—the more you chase it, the more it slips away. Ignore it. Do what you’re meant to do, and it will follow you willingly.”

In the afternoon, back at her desk, Yin Mengxi sat motionless for two hours.

At first, chaotic thoughts swirled wildly in her mind. Gradually, they unraveled like threads, regaining clarity. Her perspective broadened, and the clouds that had hung over her for months began to dissipate.

—No, not just these past few months.

…Nearly ten years.

She had been dizzy chasing that cat’s tail, making pursuit an instinct. Yet at times, she’d forgotten why she even needed it. Was working on Never Stop truly fulfilling? It was just another outdoor celebrity reality show—plenty of similar programs flooded the market. She had merely repackaged and rebranded it; the essence remained unchanged.

What was the point of pairing celebrities and creating drama? What meaning was there in having a group of people run around outdoors? Did she genuinely enjoy this content? In ten or twenty years, could she confidently present this program to her juniors and call it her work, her intellectual contribution?

All meaningful questions had to come from within. Never before had she examined herself and her career so calmly, nor thought so deeply about her past and future. Some answers were emerging, while others required more time to uncover.

She glanced toward the farthest corner of the large office. Luo Hua was still there, frowning at his phone, likely watching the stock market crash again. She hesitated for a long time, finally taking a deep breath and walking over. When she reached him, she still hadn’t decided what to say, but as he looked up at her, she knew.

“Teacher Luo,” her expression was resolute. “I’d like to revise the promotional video proposal I submitted for University A. I’ll submit another draft on Monday. If it’s convenient, could you offer some advice?”

How curious.

Just days ago, she had come to him wanting to leave the project team. Now, she was determined to give it her all. Luo Hua’s expression shifted微妙ly—perhaps a mix of melancholy and relief. For once, his usually carefree face bore a sincere smile. He nodded. “Alright, send me the draft first.”

Yin Mengxi nodded. At that moment, she felt an overwhelming surge of energy. Before returning to her desk, she bowed deeply to him—a gesture of respect from a junior, a serious student.

She excelled at learning and working hard.

…She wasn’t afraid to start over.

After all the meetings ended, it was nearly nine o’clock.

Opening her phone, she found several unread messages from Xiao Zhi asking when she’d finish work. She hesitated, closing the chat window. But suddenly, memories of their breakup seven years ago flashed before her—how she had avoided his calls then, leading to their eventual parting.

If she didn’t make a change this time… how could she expect a different outcome?

Closing her eyes, her finger hovered over the “voice call” button. After much hesitation, she finally pressed it. The call connected immediately, tightening the bond between them.

“Hello.”

“I’m done with work.”

She spoke the moment the call connected.

“You… want to grab some late-night snacks?”

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Author’s Note:

Tomorrow’s a Monday rest day, woohoo~