Chapter 105: Cracks

“The board specially approved an additional competitive position this afternoon. So, let’s drink this toast together—Yilia, Flora, and I. We’re all from the planning department. Whether you succeed or Yilia does, I’ll be happy for both of you.” Josh raised his glass, giving Shang Zhitao a serious look. Tracy had told him about Shang Zhitao’s situation, and he found this employee quite interesting.

The table fell silent as everyone turned to look at Shang Zhitao. In the workplace, dynamics could shift suddenly, and no rules were set in stone. Everything bowed to capital. It was just another competitor—albeit one backed by a 250-million-yuan deal.

A colleague coughed, waiting for Shang Zhitao’s reaction. The situation had become awkward, but Shang Zhitao was no longer the 22-year-old she used to be—she could handle it. She glanced at the wine in her glass, then walked over to Josh with a smile: “Thank you, boss. And thank you, Yilia, for joining the competition. A competitive environment is beneficial for the company’s growth. I’m looking forward to it.”

“If you understand, that’s good,” Josh said to Shang Zhitao.

Shang Zhitao smiled faintly, clinked glasses with Josh and Yilia, and drank. Yilia followed suit.

This decision had been made before the bidding process began, representing the company’s stance—to ensure openness in hiring while maintaining fair competition. However, it added difficulty for Shang Zhitao. Without Yilia, everyone knew this year’s expert title would go to her because of her super project. But with Yilia’s 250 million yuan and strong background, the outcome was uncertain.

Shang Zhitao understood.

But she wasn’t giving up.

After the dinner ended, Yilia stopped her: “Flora.”

“Yilia.”

“To be honest, I didn’t know about this either. I was only informed right before the gathering. Tracy said Luke applied to the board for this change. He thought the company’s hiring practices were too rigid.”

Shang Zhitao listened carefully and then slowly replied: “I support the company’s decision. Yilia, you’re very talented. When I was 22 or 23, I was quite ordinary—though I still am now. I’m glad to compete with you.” Shang Zhitao patted her shoulder: “Good luck.”

That night, when she returned home, Sun Yuanzhu was already asleep. Sun Yu asked her: “You haven’t seen him in so long. Why didn’t you go see him?”

“He drank too much,” Shang Zhitao replied, walking into the bedroom. She didn’t blame the board for approving the extra slot, nor did she want to ask if Luan Nian had changed the rule. As a company manager, he had the authority to adjust hiring strategies, and she understood that. When Luan Nian called, she answered. His voice carried a nasal tone—he really had drunk a bit too much.

“Why did you leave?” Luan Nian asked.

“I came back to see Sun Yu.”

“And Sun Yuanzhu,” Luan Nian added. Both fell silent, unsure of what to say next.

“Luan Nian, did you know about the board’s decision?” Shang Zhitao asked. How could he not know? He was likely the first to know—or perhaps, as Yilia said, he had requested the policy change.

“I knew. Does it matter?”

“Don’t I have the right to know?”

“What are you afraid of?” Luan Nian asked. “It’s just one more competitor. What are you afraid of?”

“It’s not fear. I just hoped you would tell me.”

“Does it make a difference whether I tell you or someone else does?”

“No.”

Luan Nian was right—it didn’t make an essential difference. The result would be the same.

Shang Zhitao knew that once work was involved, their balance would be disrupted. Luan Nian could have opposed the board’s decision, could have been more assertive, but he hadn’t. She knew that in his mind, Yilia was qualified to compete. After a year of collaboration, Yilia had proven herself exceptionally talented, excelling in this case and others. Luan Nian had always disliked rigid rules; he often believed rules were meant to be broken.

“So, will you judge fairly?” Shang Zhitao asked.

“What do you mean by judging fairly?”

“Without considering the 250 million. You know I can’t match that. On the day of our evaluation, I hope you’ll be fair.”

“Can you influence all the judges?” Luan Nian didn’t answer directly but instead asked her.

Shang Zhitao thought for a few seconds and said: “I don’t want to influence anyone, including you. You’re right—whether you tell me or Josh mentions it at the table, it doesn’t fundamentally change anything. Get some rest.”

Shang Zhitao hung up. A little later, she received a message from Luan Nian: “Be confident, Shang Zhitao.”

Luan Nian didn’t understand her dilemma—and perhaps never would. He wanted her to be confident, not realizing that Shang Zhitao was no longer the timid girl she once was. She had changed. He assumed she feared losing, that she felt inferior to others.

That wasn’t it.

Though she knew there was no absolute fairness in the workplace—that connections, capital, and relationships often outweighed ability—she still believed in Lingmei, the company that had given her a chance and helped her grow quickly. At Lingmei, anything was possible.

So she didn’t think she would lose.

She just hoped Luan Nian would treat her differently, telling her directly: “You have one more competitor, but I believe in you. Keep going.”

That one sentence would have been enough.

But he didn’t say it.

Perhaps, in his mind, the outcome was already decided.

________________________________________

Early the next morning, she flew back to the northwest. The meeting was over, the boss had been met, and the project continued. Phase one of the project was nearing completion, and government leaders came to inspect. Seeing Shang Zhitao, who seemed a shade darker than before, they asked: “Is the northwest tough?”

Shang Zhitao nodded, then shook her head.

The leader chuckled.

“We all know how tough the northwest is. A young woman like you has stayed here for so long, working diligently without complaining. What are you striving for?”

Probably for ideals.

But Shang Zhitao didn’t say it. How laughable ideals were—when you spoke them aloud, others would ask, “Can ideals be exchanged for money? Look at those idealists; they all died chasing their dreams.”

The leader saw her silence and smiled knowingly. Having met countless people—politicians, businessmen, intellectuals, farmers—the leader could easily discern what this young woman was thinking. He said to her, “Don’t rush. Take your time.”

Shang Zhitao nodded.

“So, after the first phase is completed, will you return to Beijing?” the leader asked.

“Yes. I’ll continue to provide remote support, but Phase Two mainly involves construction, where our involvement will be minimal,” she patiently explained.

“What a pity. It would’ve been great if you stayed here and put down roots.” The government official spoke earnestly.

“Thank you. If I have the chance, I’ll definitely come back.”

After seeing the official off, Shelly said to her, “What a missed opportunity! You could’ve asked the government leader to put in a good word for you with the company. Whether it’s the boss’s wife or the client, everyone would step aside. Wouldn’t that make sense?” Even though Shelly was far away in the northwest, she understood corporate politics well. Whether it was 250 million or 2.5 billion, nothing compared to political influence.

Shang Zhitao shook her head. “If I won by using such means, I’d despise myself.”

Some principles could never be broken. Integrity was always the bottom line.

Having worked for six years, Shang Zhitao already knew what the real shortcuts were and how to take them. She could’ve chosen an easier path, but she chose not to. She wanted everything she achieved to be earned through legitimate means. Though it might seem foolish, she was willing to be that fool.

Staying true to oneself was the hardest part of having an independent personality.

That evening, when she returned home and turned on the lights, she saw Luan Nian sitting on the sofa. That day, she had left Beijing without saying goodbye, and Luan Nian hadn’t asked why. He was so smart—he already knew the reason.

“Come here.”

Shang Zhitao put down her backpack, changed her shoes, and walked over, sitting beside him. Her posture was slightly distant.

“So, you left without saying goodbye because I didn’t tell you beforehand?” Luan Nian asked.

Shang Zhitao remained silent.

“Speak.”

“What do you want me to say?” she replied. “Did you speak when you should’ve? If not, why should I unconditionally respond every time you talk?”

“Would telling you change the outcome?”

“Was this outcome something you orchestrated?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t mean anything.”

Shang Zhitao had always understood Luan Nian’s emotions, and today was no different. She knew he was upset, even angry. But she didn’t want to let his mood affect her. Rising from the sofa, she moved to sit in a chair across from him. After a long while, once she had processed her emotions, she finally spoke calmly: “I don’t mind competing with Yilia. This is the workplace—only the capable rise. I also don’t think I’m inferior to her. These are the premises of our conversation today. Do you agree?”

Luan Nian remained silent, so Shang Zhitao continued: “I’ll assume you agree. Based on this premise, I hope my boyfriend will personally inform me when he knows the result, so I can mentally prepare. Is that too much to ask?”

“Not too much, but meaningless.”

“I’m not seeking meaning. I just want my boyfriend to stand by me as long as it doesn’t violate his principles.” I seek emotional affirmation from my boyfriend, Shang Zhitao thought to herself. Suddenly, she felt exhausted being in a relationship with Luan Nian. He didn’t understand anything, and she no longer wanted to be with someone like him.

“So?” Luan Nian asked.

This single word left Shang Zhitao at a loss for words. She felt an indescribable sense of injustice. At that dinner, she had been placed in such an awkward position. She could’ve avoided it if Luan Nian had told her beforehand. But he hadn’t.

Shang Zhitao realized they would never truly communicate about work-related matters. He had his own standards, his own way of judging things, good or bad, forming a world of his own that she couldn’t penetrate.

“Do you really think it’s that hard to ignore who your competitors are and just focus on doing your best?” Luan Nian asked.

Shang Zhitao pressed her lips together, remaining silent. They were stuck in this inexplicable stalemate for a long time. Outside, the wind picked up, and the window rattled. Finally, Shang Zhitao spoke: “You’re right. No matter who tells me, the result is the same. My mistake was thinking you were different from others. Now I know.” She would never see Luan Nian lower his head or soften his tone. She would never become the kind of talented person he’d break rules for.

“I suggest you calm down. This isn’t a big deal,” Luan Nian said.

“It’s not a big deal to you.”

“But it is to you? Are you this upset because you feel I didn’t treat you specially? Fine, let me tell you—I always separate work and personal life, and I suggest you do the same. Otherwise, you won’t be able to handle yourself.”

“Alright. I understand now. I’ve drawn the line.”

“So, is this work or personal life?”

“Work,” Shang Zhitao replied. “Today, tomorrow, the day after tomorrow—all of it is work.” She walked to the door and opened it. “I don’t need my big boss giving me special treatment.”

Luan Nian stood up and walked out. Just as he stepped outside, he turned back: “Whether you admit it or not, you feel threatened by Yilia entering the competition. After all these years, you still can’t face competition openly. Your core issue is lack of confidence.”

“I’ll say it again—I just didn’t like being informed about it at that dinner.”

“If you weren’t my girlfriend, who would you blame for hearing this news at the dinner? The board? Yilia’s 250-million-yuan deal? Or your new boss’s timing? Why should I pay for your lack of confidence?”

Shang Zhitao’s throat tightened.

She didn’t speak because she knew she’d cry if she did. She simply raised her hand, gesturing for him to leave.

Without looking back, Luan Nian walked out.

Shang Zhitao cried in the shower, angrier than ever before. When she stepped out of the bathroom, she heard the door open. Luan Nian came in, dropped his things, and began undressing.

Not wanting to talk to him, Shang Zhitao turned toward the bedroom, but Luan Nian grabbed her and pinned her against the wall. Her towel fell to the floor, and they engaged in a silent struggle. After months of abstinence, Shang Zhitao was hypersensitive and surrendered almost immediately.

Luan Nian held her limp body tightly, biting her lips fiercely: “Still don’t believe me?”

Shang Zhitao remained silent. Luan Nian pushed deeper into her: “Talk!”

“No.”

“You only believe Sun Yuanzhu, is that it?” Luan Nian thrust harder. “Huh?”

“Yes!”

Neither spoke again. Luan Nian became increasingly ruthless, while Shang Zhitao clenched her teeth, refusing to make a sound. Though she was clearly enjoying it, she made it seem as though he was forcing her.

Suddenly, Luan Nian found it utterly uninteresting.

He stopped moving and looked into her eyes: “You’re so boring, you know that?”

When he was angry, he always wanted to hurt someone—a flaw he could never fix. He got up, dressed, and left—for real this time.

Shang Zhitao didn’t reach out to him, and neither did Luan Nian to her.

Sun Yu often called her, saying: “Yuanzhu ate a little more today.”

“In addition to medication, he’s also undergoing psychological intervention and other treatments. He’s visibly improving and even smiled a few times today.” Sun Yu could never directly mention what those “other treatments” were—it seemed too cruel.

“They celebrated the company anniversary, and he attended. He even performed with his colleagues. I’ll send you the video—you can watch it.”

“When are you coming back? Yuanzhu says we’re going to watch a midnight movie together.”

Though life was mundane, Shang Zhitao felt relieved that Sun Yuanzhu was improving. That was enough.

When she returned to Beijing to resume her role, she visited Luan Nian’s house to see Luke. She played with him for a long time: “Wait for me to come back, and I’ll take you home. Though our place is small, it’s still a home, right?”

Luan Nian frowned nearby but said nothing. Shang Zhitao looked up at him: “Luke seems reluctant to go home with me.”

“Do you think Luke is as heartless as you?” Luan Nian retorted, getting up to cook. Shang Zhitao stood beside him, watching him fry steak. “Mine should be medium-well,” she said.

“There’s none for you.”

“Then I’ll eat yours.”

Luan Nian glanced at her, feeling a faint, almost imperceptible sense of grievance. It was strange—even Luan Nian himself wasn’t used to feeling this way.

They each enjoyed a serving of steak pasta and Luan Nian’s homemade avocado milkshake, both delicious. Shang Zhitao especially loved Luan Nian’s steak pasta—she couldn’t get used to eating it anywhere else. And there was his osmanthus milk tea. No one could replicate that taste.

“Can I have your osmanthus milk tea tomorrow morning?” she asked.

“Mm.”