Chapter 107: Fading Heart

It was Tracy who showed Luan Nian the video.

The video of an employee jumping off a building due to overwhelming pressure had spread widely in HR circles. At the end of the video, a girl could be seen crying her heart out.

When Luan Nian saw Shang Zhitao weeping uncontrollably in the video, he too felt an inexplicable sadness welling up inside him. He handed the phone back to Tracy and lowered his head to ask, “What was the deceased’s name?”

“To respect the deceased, his name wasn’t disclosed. It’s said his surname was Sun.”

Luan Nian looked up at Tracy and then glanced at Shang Zhitao’s empty desk.

“Josh gave her leave,” Tracy told Luan Nian. “In such special circumstances, we can’t force employees to come to work. After all, she’s completely broken down.”

“Alright.”

Luan Nian repeatedly called Shang Zhitao, but no one answered. He got up and left the office. He went to Shang Zhitao’s home—a cozy little place. His finger pressed the doorbell for over ten minutes before he finally heard slow footsteps approaching. The door opened, revealing a lifeless Sun Yu.

“What is it?” Sun Yu asked him.

“Where’s Shang Zhitao?” Luan Nian replied. Sun Yu stepped aside to let him in, then returned to the bedroom. Luan Nian’s heart tightened. He walked to the doorway, pushed the door open slightly, and saw Shang Zhitao leaning on the bed, reading a book.

She raised her head to look at him, her gaze distant, as if looking at someone she barely knew. Luan Nian sat beside her on the bed. After a long silence, he reached for her hand, placing his palm gently on the back of hers, and said softly, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Shang Zhitao pulled her hand away and remained silent. Luan Nian just stayed with her quietly. The room’s windows were closed, and the curtains drawn, making the air feel suffocating. She seemed to have gone without sleep for a couple of days, dark circles faintly visible under her eyes. She hadn’t bathed either, and the room even carried a musty smell.

“Do you want to go out for a walk?” Luan Nian asked.

“Do you feel happy?” Shang Zhitao suddenly asked.

“What?”

“Sun Yuanzhu, the person you hated the most, is dead. Do you feel even a little bit happy about it?” Shang Zhitao set the book aside and stared at Luan Nian. “The Sun Yuanzhu you slandered multiple times is dead. Are you happy?”

“No, that’s not right. You wouldn’t be happy because he had nothing to do with you. You’ve always stayed aloof when it didn’t concern you. Selfish and self-centered.”

“Do you think I’m like that?” he asked her.

“Aren’t you?” Shang Zhitao shot back. She didn’t really care about the answer; her heart was so heavy she desperately needed to vent. And Luan Nian seemed like the perfect target. No matter what she said, at worst, he’d get angry and call her an idiot. But he never took anything to heart because he simply didn’t care. Someone like him, who didn’t care about anything, was truly fortunate. Because he didn’t care, he never suffered himself—he only made others suffer.

Unexpectedly, Luan Nian didn’t get angry this time.

He walked to the window and pulled back the curtains. Sunlight streamed through, hitting Shang Zhitao’s face. Her eyes flinched from the sharp pain, and she turned her head away.

“Close it,” she said to Luan Nian.

As if he hadn’t heard her, he turned and went to the bathroom to fetch a towel. On the wall of their bathroom hung a towel rack with three neatly spaced clean towels. Written on the wooden rack in colored markers were names. Luan Nian picked up the towel labeled under “Taotao,” rinsed it under the faucet, wrung it out, and returned to the bedroom.

Shang Zhitao’s book lay by her side as she gazed out the window, lost in thought. Luan Nian approached her, but she swatted his hand away. “Get away! Don’t touch me!”

Without saying a word, Luan Nian pinned her down on the bed despite her fierce struggles. He gently wiped her face with the towel. There were still tear stains from the night before, and his heart ached again.

Shang Zhitao’s eyes grew hot. Clenching her teeth, she forced the tears back and turned her head away from Luan Nian. She didn’t want to see him, especially in such a disheveled state. She just wanted him to leave quickly so she could read her book in peace.

But Luan Nian never did what she wished.

He dragged a chair to the side of her bed, sat down, and started playing on his phone, avoiding eye contact with her.

Neither of them spoke. The air was eerily quiet.

After a while, Shang Zhitao sat up again and picked up her book. She handled it carefully, afraid to fold the pages. All of Sun Yuanzhu’s books had been left to her.

Shang Zhitao thought, I need to buy a bigger house so I can have a bookshelf wall to hold all these books.

They sat facing each other until evening. Luan Nian didn’t utter a single word. As it grew darker, he went to the kitchen, opened the fridge, and found there was hardly any food in the house. Taking Shang Zhitao’s keys, he drove home to grab osmanthus flowers, syrup, and milk, then stopped by the market to buy groceries.

When he returned to Shang Zhitao’s apartment, the house was pitch black. Luan Nian prepared her favorite osmanthus milk and brought it to her. “Drink.”

“I don’t want to drink. I don’t want to eat. I’m not hungry,” Shang Zhitao turned her face away.

Luan Nian placed the blanket on her bedside table and walked out.

From the kitchen came the clattering of pots and pans, and the faint scent of osmanthus wafted into her nose. Her throat tightened, and tears began to flow again.

Outside, the sound of sizzling oil filled the air as the sweet aroma of rice drifted in. Smelling the fragrant scents, Shang Zhitao suddenly felt drowsy and leaned against the headboard, dozing off for a moment.

By the time she opened her eyes, Luan Nian was gone. On the table were dishes of food, and Sun Yu sat beside it, quietly eating.

Shang Zhitao joined her, but after a few bites, she lost her appetite.

For six consecutive days, Luan Nian came, but he never spoke. Shang Zhitao didn’t know why he kept coming—he clearly didn’t care about anything. It was only on the night when Sun Yu finally broke down in tears that they both seemed to feel alive again.

The next day, they resumed their routines—washing up, going to work—as if nothing had happened.

When Shang Zhitao arrived at the office, her colleagues cast sympathetic yet strange glances her way. Lumi walked beside her and suddenly cursed, “What the hell are you all looking at?!”

Shang Zhitao grabbed her hand, stopping her from cursing further. She had already lost an important friend, and for the remaining few friends she had left, she hoped they would never be troubled or angered again.

Shang Zhitao accompanied Lumi to buy coffee. Seeing Luan Nian standing at the counter, she waited outside and didn’t go in. As Luan Nian turned around and noticed Lumi, he suddenly asked out of the blue, “Did you sleep with Will?”

“Huh?” Lumi was somewhat shocked, unsure why he was asking such a question.

“Alright, I know you did. Since it’s not easy to get that far, make good use of it.” With that, Luan Nian walked away with his coffee.

As he passed by, Shang Zhitao turned her back to him and didn’t greet him. She didn’t know when this pain would pass. Sometimes, she deliberately ignored the sudden waves of sadness, pretending to be happy. Only she knew how much she missed her friend—so very much.

She still visited Luan Nian’s house on weekends, but they no longer had sex. Shang Zhitao had lost interest in intimacy; she simply enjoyed spending time with Luke. When she was at Luan Nian’s place, she rarely spoke to him, only exchanging a few polite phrases like, “Could you please hand me that…? Thank you.”

The intense emotions she once felt for Luan Nian gradually faded away, and she could even sense the process of their disappearance. This had nothing to do with Sun Yuanzhu’s passing—it had truly begun on the day he flew to the northwest to find her and they had an argument.

She wanted to take Luke home, but now Sun Yu was extremely sensitive to sound. If Luke barked suddenly, it might scare her. So she said to Luke, “Can you stay here for a little while longer? Once Sister Sun Yu feels better, I’ll come and take you home.”

After months of preparation, the day of her presentation finally arrived.

It was already early winter on the day of the presentation.

She wore a sharp and professional dress and applied light makeup. That afternoon, the wind was strong, and from inside the conference room, they could hear the rustling of tree branches outside. Sitting across from Shang Zhitao were seven judges—an unusually powerful lineup this year.

Tracy smiled at her: “Flora, you may begin.”

Shang Zhitao spoke about her past six years, detailing solutions to one challenge after another, the accumulated experience from numerous projects, and finally highlighting the impactful project that had defined her career. The presentation was almost touching. After she finished, Tracy suddenly remarked, “I still remember what you said during our first phone call.”

“I also remember how you looked the first time I met you. Six years have passed so quickly. Before the other judges ask questions, I’d like to express the company’s gratitude for your hard work over these six years. Thank you, Flora.” Tracy stood up and hugged her.

Luan Nian recalled the first time he saw Shang Zhitao—not in Alex’s office, but that morning when he pushed open the back door of the coffee shop. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a young woman sitting upright on the sofa in the lobby. Even in 2010, it was rare to see someone sit so humbly.

Six years had passed, but the humility in Shang Zhitao hadn’t faded with her growing competence—it was always there. Her insatiable thirst for knowledge remained constant. She often asked probing questions in meetings, unafraid to seek advice and learn from anyone—even interns. Such qualities were incredibly rare.

Time changes people, shapes them, but it couldn’t alter Shang Zhitao’s core. She was resilient.

Will asked Shang Zhitao about her work in the marketing department, clearly interested. Shang Zhitao’s work was solid, her thinking rigorous, and what made her stand out even more was her willingness to imagine and break conventions. She even offered suggestions regarding the current budgeting process.

During this time, Luan Nian didn’t ask any questions. After all the questions ended, he finally said, “If you were given another chance, would you still choose to go to the northwest?”

“Yes. I don’t regret my choices,” Shang Zhitao replied.

Luan Nian nodded. “Let’s proceed with the scoring.”

Lingmei’s promotion mechanism was highly structured. The judges evaluated candidates based on specific parameters derived from job levels and competency models. They anonymously scored each parameter, and the final scores were calculated as a composite of the seven judges’ evaluations.

Shang Zhitao watched them score. Judges were unreadable—you couldn’t discern their thoughts because they maintained expressionless faces throughout. After the scoring was completed, the results were uploaded to the system.

Tracy said to her, “The results will be announced later today. Thank you for your hard work.”

Shang Zhitao nodded. “Thank you, esteemed judges.”

As she stepped out of the conference room, she saw Lumi raise an eyebrow at her. Walking over, she asked, “What is it?”

Lumi pointed to her phone. “Classmate Shang Zhitao, Will says you were incredible. He gave you the highest overall score.” After sending this message, Lumi added, “Will also said it has nothing to do with whether or not we’re friends. It’s purely because you’re really amazing.”

Shang Zhitao looked at Lumi—the person who had accompanied her through six years in the workplace. She realized she didn’t care so much about winning or losing anymore. What mattered most were the people around her, especially those who stayed by her side.

But Lumi disagreed. “If there must be a winner, why shouldn’t it be you?”

“If it’s not you, I’d be the first to protest.”

One by one, the bosses exited the meeting room. Shang Zhitao saw Luan Nian glance deeply at her before walking into the conference room.

She thought back to how upset she had been when he didn’t inform her beforehand about Yilia entering the competition. But strangely, today, she didn’t feel the same need for him to tell her the results ahead of time.

She watched Luan Nian frown as he sat at his desk. After a while, he picked up the phone. Then, Tracy entered his office and sat down across from him. Their expressions were serious as they discussed something unknown.

Shang Zhitao waited at her desk for the results. She didn’t know how they would be announced—only those involved would know. But strangely, everyone seemed reluctant to talk about it.

Time truly flies.

Six years had passed.