Chapter 27: No More Love

“What do you want?” Luan Nian’s tone softened as he sat by Zhang Xin’s bedside, his gaze indifferent. “I never thought you’d resort to threatening suicide after our breakup. I thought we parted on good terms.”

“I fell into your trap, and you emotionally neglected me until I had no choice but to be the one to break up with you.”

Luan Nian had assumed Zhang Xin was like him—someone who disliked being tied down and valued trust and space in a relationship. Initially, she had been that way, but over time, she changed. She started testing him, checking up on him obsessively, clinging to him, even hiring people to follow him. It exhausted and infuriated him. When he suggested breaking up, she clung to him relentlessly.

“I’m not here to reconcile with you,” Luan Nian said, picking up the fruit from her hand, inspecting it briefly, then placing it back in her palm. “Eat your fruit, recover well, and stop calling me. Let’s part ways peacefully.”

“You have a cold heart,” Zhang Xin said, blinking her eyes, fresh tears clinging to her long lashes—a pitiful sight.

But Luan Nian wasn’t moved.

Luan Nian was immune to both softness and threats.

Once he made up his mind about something, not even the heavens could sway him.

“Compared to the rumors you’ve spread about me, my heart is kinder than you think.” Zhang Xin had tried to tarnish his reputation to force him back. But Luan Nian didn’t care; his reputation was already sullied anyway. He pulled out a voice recorder and showed it to her: “If you continue this, we’ll settle it in court.”

With that, he stood and walked out.

Some people end relationships amicably, while others make a mess of things. Luan Nian had witnessed the ferocity of women pushed to their limits—they would cut themselves just to get attention—and it left him weary of intimate relationships. He had never been someone deeply invested in such bonds. To outsiders, he might appear heartless—an archetypal “scumbag.”

He drove to the office and ran into Lumi and Alex in the elevator.

“Good morning, Luke,” Lumi and Alex greeted him. Then Lumi brought up Shang Zhitao: “Flora can really endure hardships. That miserable place where we filmed the commercial—I never want to go there again. But Flora stuck it out. The director says she took excellent care of the entire crew’s logistics. Not only that, but yesterday she also went out to scout new filming locations. Impressive.”

Alex was momentarily confused by Lumi’s sudden praise for Shang Zhitao, but since she was part of his team, he joined in: “Flora’s great. She’s very capable.”

Luan Nian shot them a sidelong glance. Their clumsy attempt at flattery was painfully obvious. Looking directly at Lumi, he asked calmly, “Must be exhausting mentoring someone like her?”

Caught off guard by his question, they stepped out of the elevator as the doors opened. Luan Nian gave them a faint smile and walked away. He found it puzzling that Shang Zhitao, that naive goose, had managed to make friends in the workplace who were now singing her praises.

As soon as he entered his office and turned on his computer, a message from Shang Zhitao popped up: “Luke, I’ve scheduled a report with Alex for next Tuesday.”

“? What does this have to do with me?”

“Upward management!” Shang Zhitao proudly parroted what she had learned. She genuinely believed Luan Nian was right—upward management was essential. How else could leaders know what you were doing? That morning, she had an epiphany: she needed to manage not only Alex but also Tracy, Luke, and anyone else relevant.

What if Luke gets annoyed with me? Shang Zhitao asked herself.

So what? He’s already annoyed anyway. She quickly answered her own question.

…

Is she really that clueless? Luan Nian muttered internally.

Perhaps inspired by Lumi’s elevator praise of Shang Zhitao, Alex suddenly had an idea. He instructed Lumi to create a group chat on the company intranet, including the filming team, Shang Zhitao, himself, Kitty, Luan Nian, and others.

Lumi thought Alex was finally using his authority wisely. In the chat, she wrote: “Collaborative project—thanks to the frontline team for your hard work. If there are any issues, please communicate in the group. Alex says everyone will get chicken legs when we return.”

The group members chimed in with agreement, except for Shang Zhitao. Where was she? Out scouting extras. The creative team had negotiated last-minute script changes with the director, requiring an elderly extra—a clean, gentle-looking grandmother with silver hair. The requirements were specific.

Kitty told Shang Zhitao: “Flora, this one’s on you.”

“Aren’t you supposed to handle this?” the director asked Kitty.

Kitty shook her head: “This kind of task is better suited for marketing colleagues.”

Shang Zhitao figured it was just part of the job, and getting out to explore sounded nice too. So she set off.

She wandered through the town, searching for a suitable elderly extra. From one end to the other, she finally found a grandmother basking under an ancient tree. Approaching her, Shang Zhitao smiled: “Grandma, would you like to act in an advertisement?”

The grandmother waved her hand dismissively—she couldn’t understand Shang Zhitao.

After much gesturing, the grandmother still didn’t get it. Shang Zhitao decided to take her to the set. When the grandmother saw the cameras, she immediately backed away, clearly frightened. Shang Zhitao had no choice but to escort her back to the tree.

Finding someone was proving difficult. She decided to seek out Driver Liu Wu: “Can you take me to the county?”

“Let’s go.”

Liu Wu drove Shang Zhitao to the county. She remembered a noodle shop there where an elderly woman vaguely fit Kitty and the director’s criteria. After some effort, they arrived. Explaining their purpose, the shopkeeper asked: “How much are you paying?”

“Two thousand! We originally planned to pay one thousand, but since she’ll need to travel with us to the town, the road will be bumpy.” This was Shang Zhitao’s first time proactively raising the price. She felt sympathy for the elderly—it wasn’t easy earning money, especially if it meant enduring a bumpy ride. For the first time, she experienced the joy of managing funds: deciding how much to give within a reasonable range felt empowering.

“Deal!” The shopkeeper was delighted. “Wait here—I’ll check with her. If everything’s fine, come pick her up tomorrow!”

“Thank you.”

Feeling hungry, Shang Zhitao treated Liu Wu to a bowl of noodles and added a chicken leg for him. Watching her eat so heartily, he asked: “Don’t you think some tasks shouldn’t fall on you?” Liu Wu thought Shang Zhitao was incredibly naïve—no matter what task she was given, she did it without complaint. Meanwhile, Kitty lounged around the director all day, doing nothing, yet the director praised her endlessly.

“I know, but sitting around isn’t helpful either. Coming to the county is nice, and there’s delicious food.”

Her phone rang, and she quickly answered. It was Lumi: “Where are you, dear?”

“I’m looking for an extra.”

“Oh.” Lumi hung up and called Kitty: “Where are you?”

“I’m on set!”

“What did you mean earlier in the group chat? You mentioned Shang Zhitao struggling to find an extra. Is that even her responsibility?” Lumi was irritated. With all the bosses in the group, why did Kitty feel the need to stir trouble?

“Shang Zhitao said she could handle it.”

Lumi was furious. She hung up and posted in the group: “I just spoke with Flora. She voluntarily took on the task of finding an extra and has gone all the way to the county.”

Unaware of these developments, Shang Zhitao finished explaining the scene to the grandmother. By the time they returned, it was dark, and unexpectedly, it began to rain. The car got stuck in the mud. Despite multiple attempts, Liu Wu couldn’t get it unstuck.

Sighing, Liu Wu climbed back into the car and called roadside assistance. In this desolate area, help wouldn’t arrive for hours, and no passing vehicles were in sight.

Surrounded by wilderness and pitch darkness, Shang Zhitao swore she heard wolves howling. Sitting beside a man she barely knew, she sent a message to Lumi: “Lumi, our car broke down on the road.”

“At this hour?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, I’ll let everyone know. You’re with Liu Wu. He’s Luke’s driver—he should be reliable. Don’t be afraid.”

Lumi reassured Shang Zhitao, then posted in the group: “Flora’s having such bad luck—her car broke down in the middle of nowhere late at night. Even Liu Wu can’t fix it.”

Luan Nian had remained silent in the group until now. Seeing this, he replied: “Flora’s working hard.”

Lumi waited for him to say more, but Luan Nian fell silent again.

He called Liu Wu: “Car trouble?”

“Yes. No passing cars, and rescue won’t arrive for hours.”

“Take care of Shang Zhitao. Pass the phone to her.”

Shang Zhitao sat trembling, her mind conjuring several versions of a young woman being abandoned in the wilderness. Taking the phone, she heard Luan Nian ask: “Are you scared?”

Shang Zhitao nodded, forgetting he couldn’t see her gesture. But Luan Nian could roughly imagine her state. A recent graduate, stranded in the wild with a stranger, holding back tears was already brave.

“Liu Wu is someone I personally interviewed. He’s a retired soldier with a stable family. You don’t need to worry.” Luan Nian’s rare gentleness surfaced: “Did you eat dinner?”

“I ate noodles.”

“Do you have warm clothing in the car?”

“There’s a blanket. Liu Wu gave it to me.” Her voice quivered, but she bit her lip, refusing to cry. Be strong—why cry? Still, fear sometimes couldn’t be controlled.

Luan Nian chuckled softly: “Shang Zhitao’s not bad.”

“Huh?”

“I said you’re not bad. You haven’t cried out of fear. Though you may be a bit foolish, at least you’re brave.”

“Oh.” Who cares about bravery? All I want is a warm bed and light!

Luan Nian wasn’t skilled at comforting others. He simply checked on his subordinate’s safety, said what needed to be said, and hung up. He left the office—he had dinner plans with Tan Mian.

When he arrived, Tan Mian was already there, ordering dishes. Seeing him, Tan Mian teased: “I heard you’re juggling four women?”

Luan Nian shrugged, ignoring the jab. Tan Mian pressed on: “You should just stop dating altogether. If you need to satisfy physical desires, find a casual partner—no strings attached. Wouldn’t that be better?”

“That does sound nice.” Luan Nian clearly didn’t want to discuss this further. Changing the subject, he asked: “Playing basketball this weekend?”

“Of course.”

“No cheerleaders.” Luan Nian hated the noise of cheerleaders.

“But cheerleaders are pretty girls. Without them, how will you meet potential bed partners?”

“Are you moonlighting as a pimp now?” Luan Nian shot him a cold look, glancing at the time—past ten o’clock. Would Shang Zhitao be scared enough to wet her pants? The thought suddenly popped into his mind. Recalling the drama that unfolded in the group chat earlier, he finally called Kitty: “Come back tomorrow.”

“Emergency work?” Kitty was surprised to receive his call.

“If finding extras falls entirely on the marketing team, then your presence there is meaningless.” Luan Nian didn’t mention Shang Zhitao’s name. He didn’t see himself as defending her—it was purely a matter of team management. In his team, those who lacked initiative were replaced by those who took responsibility. Direct as always.

Kitty reacted swiftly: “Let me explain, Luke. It wasn’t me pushing the task onto her. The script changed last minute, requiring deep communication with the director. Since I couldn’t be in two places at once, I entrusted Flora with it. I’ll be more careful going forward.”

“Mm. Come back and review the project.” Luan Nian softened his tone, giving Kitty a chance to correct herself.

“You’re managing such minor details?” Tan Mian was surprised.

Luan Nian shrugged: “Occasionally, I enjoy the thrill of micromanagement.”

“I don’t believe you.”