Chapter 33: The Charm of the Stubborn Donkey

Due to Luan Nian’s maneuvering during the budget meeting, all departments suddenly became tense. Each department occupied a conference room and started working on their budget proposals. The marketing department couldn’t leave either, remaining on standby because any department might call on them at any time: “Can you check if this is reasonable?” Even Shang Zhitao felt that her status had risen a bit by being associated with the marketing team. That feeling was pretty nice.

She followed them through more than thirty hours of overtime, only managing to sleep a few hours on the desk. In those thirty-plus hours, she thoroughly understood the logic behind the marketing budget. It wasn’t as simple as saying how much money you intended to spend, and they would give it to you, or telling them what returns you expected. Every step had its intricacies, every step could be tracked and traced. This made it very interesting.

Learning new knowledge brought her joy. By the time the Wednesday meeting came around again, Shang Zhitao saw top-notch proposals from the market. Lingmei’s people were all elite talents, standout individuals in any setting. This version of the proposal was so good that Shang Zhitao felt the previous one had been just a formality.

The goals were clear, the action plans solid, and every penny was meticulously estimated. Lumi said to Shang Zhitao: “See? This is the stubborn charm of a mule. I’m starting to understand why the board insists on promoting him. If not him, then who?” Lumi now particularly liked Luan Nian. She even forgave his usual arrogance, thinking that it would be abnormal for him not to be arrogant.

When Lumi called Luan Nian a mule, Shang Zhitao couldn’t help but chuckle softly.

“What are you laughing at? Isn’t it true?”

“Yes, yes, yes. He really is like a mule.” Shang Zhitao quickly agreed with her.

Luan Nian’s feedback on this version of the budget proposal wasn’t as sharp as before, but he still suggested improvements and scheduled another review for Friday. At the end, he suddenly asked, “Am I being too strict?”

Everyone paused for a moment, not speaking.

He smiled faintly himself: “See you on Friday,” and ended the meeting.

When Shang Zhitao returned home, she saw Sun Yuanzhu and Zhang Lei discussing a technical issue—driverless technology. In 2010, driverless cars were still just a concept. But Sun Yuanzhu’s company had invested in this project, and as a high-end technical talent, he was transferred into the project team.

“The main problem is that it’s difficult to conduct tests in Beijing. Our models have nowhere to run. We can only go to remote places with no people.”

“The technology isn’t mature yet; there will be risks. Going elsewhere is a good idea.”

Seeing Shang Zhitao’s dark circles, Sun Yuanzhu stopped her: “Did you pull an all-nighter?”

Shang Zhitao nodded: “The company was doing budget work. Where are you going?” She asked Sun Yuanzhu.

“Northwest.”

“Will it take long?” Shang Zhitao felt reluctant to see Sun Yuanzhu leave. She was used to him teaching her and Sun Yu various things on weekends or evenings. His mind seemed to hold an entire universe. Sometimes, Shang Zhitao thought, had he read every book in the world?

Sun Yuanzhu and Luan Nian were two completely different people. Luan Nian was sharp-edged, hard, cold, and dazzling. Sun Yuanzhu was gentle, reserved, and carried an air of refinement. Shang Zhitao was afraid of Luan Nian, but not of Sun Yuanzhu.

“Yes.” Sun Yuanzhu smiled at her: “I’ll send you some delicious food.”

“Only for Shang Zhitao?” Zhang Lei teased.

“For everyone.” Sun Yuanzhu’s face slightly reddened as he told Shang Zhitao: “Go to bed soon, you look too exhausted.”

“Okay.” Shang Zhitao walked toward her room but turned back to tell Sun Yuanzhu: “Be careful!”

“Don’t worry.”

Living in Beijing was like this—meeting under the same roof was rare. Everyone was busy with overtime, business trips, and gatherings. Every day was packed full. Shang Zhitao indeed felt very tired. After taking a shower, she lay down on the bed and caught up on sleep.

On Friday, she went to the meeting room with her colleagues, carrying her laptop. As soon as she pushed the door open, she saw Luan Nian sitting there flipping through a magazine. On the magazine was their company’s print ad designed for a major daily chemical brand.

Seeing them enter, he stopped his movements, placed the magazine aside, and told his secretary: “Distribute these to everyone.” He brought back pastries from Lianxianglou in Hong Kong, exquisitely delicate, with a small portion for each person. Shang Zhitao sat in the second row, took the pastry, placed it on the small table attached to her chair, and looked up to meet Luan Nian’s gaze. He glanced at her indifferently, just like he did at others. Shang Zhitao recalled her earlier realization about composure: sit straight, act as if nothing happened, as if nothing mattered. Or perhaps it was to subtly tell Luan Nian: “Luke, don’t worry, I won’t say anything.” So she sat straight, appearing fearless. She hadn’t done anything wrong, she encouraged herself.

Shang Zhitao’s ingrained habit of pleasing others made her someone who didn’t dwell on things easily. People like her wouldn’t feel sharp pain, but she didn’t realize that dull pain could also hurt.

This meeting was quick. Once the project was approved, it was handed over to the marketing department for archiving. Since it was Friday and many colleagues had other engagements, this task was given to Shang Zhitao. The inventory system was complex, and each project required filling out a lot of information. Shang Zhitao dove into it, not even drinking water, fearing she might make a critical error. After several hours, she finally completed it. When she shut down her computer and stood up, she saw that the light in Luan Nian’s office was still on—he was still working.

He really works hard. I should learn from him, striving to be someone who works hard despite having talent.

She left the company with her backpack.

The leaves had fallen, and the weather grew colder. Drunks still lingered on the streets, along with a few people like her who couldn’t hail a cab. She didn’t understand why people always drank until late at night and wandered the streets. There were too many drunkards in this city. She thought, if only I could own a house in this city before I turn thirty. Then, no matter how late it was, even standing on the street like now, I wouldn’t be afraid because I’d have my own place!

Putting on her earphones, listening to music, pondering where to go, a car stopped in front of her.

It wasn’t the car she had damaged; that one would probably take a long time to repair.

Shang Zhitao didn’t know how to face him but remembered her four-word mantra: Act as if nothing happened. So she got in the car and said to him: “Thank you, Luke. Sorry to bother you again.”

Luan Nian glanced at her, leaned back to grab a package from the back seat, and placed it on Shang Zhitao’s lap: “A gift for you.” He said it casually. Shang Zhitao recognized the logo—an expensive gift. Feeling as if her hand had been burned, she lost her composure and handed the box back to Luan Nian: “No, I don’t need it.”

“If you don’t accept this, do you want to talk about our feelings?” Luan Nian started the car, driving without affecting his conversation.

…

Shang Zhitao felt as if she were selling herself. Just at a higher price. The high price wasn’t because of her outstanding performance but simply because she had encountered a wealthy man.

She tightly closed her lips and remained silent, the package still in her hands. Looking out the window, she wondered how others would handle such a gift. She had no answers. So she asked Sun Yu: “My boss gave me a bag. What should I do with it?”

“Accept it.” Sun Yu replied with just those two words.

In this city, almost every commodity was priced, including people. Sun Yu had gone through a heart-wrenching breakup and suddenly understood the meaning of money. To hell with love—if you don’t have money, you starve, and if you starve, what love can you pursue? It was this Sun Yu who later got into the business of love. And it was this Sun Yu who later threw herself into love recklessly. Every woman has spoken insincerely at some point, growing in their own ways. Years later, when they look back on this period, they’ll realize that many things weren’t right or wrong—they were just choices.

Not everyone is born strong.

You must know that the strong people you see today were once polished and reshaped during some part of their lives.

Sun Yu was like that, and so was Shang Zhitao.

And so was Luan Nian.

“Are you worried that if I don’t accept this gift, I might reveal what happened between us?” Shang Zhitao finally spoke.

Luan Nian frowned, pulled over to the side of the road, and lit a cigarette—a rare sight. He smoked one after another, and Shang Zhitao didn’t know what he was thinking. The silence was unbearable. Yet she still sat quietly, looking out the window, accompanying Luan Nian as he smoked.

Luan Nian didn’t actually have a smoking habit. That day, he chain-smoked, fascinated by the ethereal smoke rings.

“Do you think you’re selling yourself?” After a long while, Luan Nian asked her.

Shang Zhitao hummed in agreement. Her mood was low, and she couldn’t explain why.

“Then I should give you money.” Luan Nian extinguished the cigarette: “Keep it.” He refused to say another word. He dropped Shang Zhitao off at her apartment entrance. She got out of the car, holding the expensive gift, without even receiving a thank-you from Luan Nian. She walked away without looking back.

She felt something within her collapse that night.

Because she had accepted Luan Nian’s gift.

The gift was too hot to handle. Not accepting it felt wrong, but accepting it felt wrong too. She wasn’t like Lumi, who would bluntly say “screw you” to people or situations she disliked. Nor was she like Sun Yu, who accepted things straightforwardly and confidently. She was stuck in the middle, neither here nor there.

Carrying the bag into the house, Sun Yu was washing her face. Seeing Shang Zhitao’s troubled expression, she dried her face and approached her.

Shang Zhitao shrugged at Sun Yu, pursed her lips, and walked into the bedroom. Sun Yu followed her: “Why aren’t you happy?”

“I can’t explain.”

“What did he say?”

“He didn’t say anything.”

“I know what he wanted to say.” Sun Yu sat on the edge of her bed: “Shang Zhitao, you know I worked in sales, right? Back then, we had to build client relationships every day. When we gave gifts to clients, if they refused, we assumed we couldn’t win them over and treated them cautiously afterward. If they accepted, we felt reassured. That client was ours.”

“Hmm, I accepted it, so I’ll keep his secret.”

“Then why are you upset?”

“I don’t know.”

“I do.” Sun Yu pulled Shang Zhitao to sit beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder: “Even though you’re unsure now and might not admit it, deep down, you like him.”

Shang Zhitao bit her lip and suddenly shed a tear, unexpectedly.

“Look, you’re crying.” Sun Yu wiped her tears: “I’ve known you for a few months now. You’re not the kind of person who has one-night stands. Even though you joked with me that you just liked his body. But Shang Zhitao, you’re not the type to sleep with someone you don’t like.”

“I don’t like him. I just feel awkward.” Shang Zhitao wiped her tears: “If only I were rich. After sleeping with him, I could leave a stack of cash on his bedside instead of letting him have the chance to give me a bag first.” That was what upset Shang Zhitao the most.

“All right, all right!” Sun Yu clapped: “Such integrity! Don’t you even want to open it and take a look?”

Shang Zhitao shook her head: “No, I won’t open it. I don’t like it.”

“Then just leave it there!”

“Mm-hmm!”

Shang Zhitao had her first luxury item, but she didn’t open it. She wasn’t even curious which model Luan Nian had given her. In her heart, it didn’t matter. What mattered was she knew: she couldn’t do such things anymore. Never again with Luan Nian.

That night, she couldn’t sleep. She watched movies on her computer and browsed forums. She came across a post seeking teammates: “Going to Labagoumen to see red leaves.” That sounded perfect. She sent the link to Sun Yu: “How about going to see the red leaves? Autumn is almost over!”

“Sure.”

They quickly signed up online. The next morning, they woke up early and headed to the bus station. There, they saw groups of men and women dressed in hiking gear, many carrying cameras. Shang Zhitao didn’t have a camera—just a compact digital camera given to her by Xin Zhaozhou. Suddenly, Shang Zhitao realized her weekends shouldn’t just be about work and study; there should be plenty of other fun activities too.

As Sun Yu had said: “We need to live life, not just exist.”

At that time, Shang Zhitao was young, and in her mind, existing equaled living. Later, she gradually understood the difference. Existing was about making ends meet, while living was about pursuing ideals. She later became someone who truly understood how to live because life brought joy, whereas merely existing brought endless suffering.

Taking a little time to live while existing was a reward to oneself.

As she walked along the mountain path, she looked down to see the red leaves carpeting the forest—it was the last autumn scenery of the human world.