Chapter 87: Conflict

Luan Nian felt like he no longer understood women—or perhaps it was because he hadn’t interacted much with them over the past few years. When Shang Zhitao had called him, her voice had sounded so sincere, but now he wondered if that sincerity had been nothing more than an illusion.

Damn it.

Shang Zhitao pissed him off so much that he couldn’t sleep.

The next morning at work, his mood was still sour. In the elevator, he crossed paths with Shang Zhitao. She greeted him as she always had, but he pretended not to hear her. They both entered the elevator in silence, neither saying a word. Shang Zhitao wasn’t resisting anything—it wasn’t about defiance—but there was a thorn buried deep in her heart, occasionally itching and causing pain. She chose to ignore it.

Luan Nian wore men’s cologne; Shang Zhitao guessed he must be meeting clients today. He adhered strictly to etiquette, disliking anything less than perfection when meeting others. As they exited the elevator, the floor had just been mopped by the cleaning staff. Shang Zhitao slipped, her body tilting backward. Luan Nian’s palm pressed against her back, steadying her. “Throwing yourself at me?” he said mockingly.

“The floor’s slippery.”

“Why didn’t I fall, then?”

“…”

Shang Zhitao was left speechless, unable to retort, swallowing her frustration in silence. On the surface, there seemed to be no major conflict between them, but inside, each harbored the spirit of a fighting rooster—neither willing to back down, both feeling it was only a matter of time before they clashed.

When Shang Zhitao reached her desk, she noticed Lumi had already arrived—an unusual occurrence—and was leaning back in her chair, fast asleep, looking utterly exhausted. Shang Zhitao quietly sat down, opened her computer, and began working. It wasn’t until their colleagues started arriving that Lumi finally opened her eyes.

Shang Zhitao asked her, “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t even get me started. Last night, my dad was taken away by an ambulance.”

“What happened?”

“He had a stroke.” Lumi spoke calmly, but her irritation was evident. “I need to take some leave.”

“Is Uncle alright?”

“He’ll be fine. I’m just not sure if Will will give me time off.” Lumi furrowed her brows, clearly upset. Will was the new head of the marketing department, whose Chinese name was Tu Ming. He was a young, accomplished market expert whom Luan Nian had hired at a high price. But Lumi didn’t get along with him. Tu Ming looked down on Lumi’s carefree attitude and had criticized her several times in meetings for being irresponsible.

“Why wouldn’t he approve it?”

“He just lectured me yesterday about how I always clock in right on time and don’t take work seriously enough.” Lumi stood up. “I’ll go talk to him now.”

Shang Zhitao watched her walk into the office next to Luan Nian’s.

Lumi disliked Tu Ming. She thought he was unnecessarily strict. She was content to coast through her days without interfering with anyone else’s work—what business was it of his what time she left? Who the hell cares when I leave work! And as for Tu Ming—he sat there acting like an old man, stiff and pretentious. In Lumi’s mind, men in their thirties should have the same raw energy as Luan Nian. Tu Ming lacked that animalistic edge; instead, he came across as a sly, insidious figure.

“Will, I’d like to take a few days of annual leave,” Lumi said, standing in front of his desk. Her tall, casual presence contrasted amusingly with Tu Ming’s rigid demeanor.

“May I ask why?” he replied. “After all, you still have a few stops left to oversee for this year’s promotional tour.”

“My dad’s in the hospital.”

“Oh. Then go ahead and take the leave. Just hand over your work. I hope Uncle recovers soon.”

“Thank you.”

Lumi thought to herself, At least you have some decency, and turned to leave his office. After packing her things, she prepared to leave. Shang Zhitao accompanied her downstairs and asked, “Which hospital is Uncle staying at?”

“I’m not telling you.” Lumi glanced at her while slinging her bag over her shoulder. “You don’t need to visit him—he prefers bird-watching to meeting people anyway.”

“Are you okay, Lumi?”

“I’m fine.”

“What about Zhang Qing?”

“We broke up this morning.”

“What? Why?”

“I went home to change clothes after coming back from the hospital last night. I saw that bastard kissing some girl near my house—they’d just come out of a club, both drunk as hell. Damn him. I beat Zhang Qing up.”

Shang Zhitao hadn’t expected Lumi to face something like this. Now she understood why Lumi had looked so exhausted earlier—like she’d lost her soul.

“Do you want me to go beat Zhang Qing up too?” Shang Zhitao said earnestly.

Lumi burst out laughing. “Get out of here! You? Show me how you’d even squash an ant on the ground floor!”

Seeing Lumi laugh eased Shang Zhitao’s worries a little. “Is Auntie okay?”

“My mom’s at the hospital keeping watch. I’m going to relieve her and hire a caregiver.”

“Got it. Which hospital is Uncle staying at?”

“Jishuitan Hospital.”

“Alright.”

Shang Zhitao saw Lumi off, feeling unsettled. Lumi must be hurting deeply. Men really were despicable—cheating as casually as eating a meal. Shang Zhitao silently cursed under her breath, imitating Lumi’s earlier sentiment.

She returned to preparing the documents for the workshop with their top-tier client—problem identification, strategic analysis, pages upon pages filled with materials covering the screen.

Grace approached her and asked, “Are you encountering any difficulties?”

Shang Zhitao nodded. “There are a few issues.” She opened her notes. “First, this client’s overall strategy this year focuses on targeting younger users and expanding into lower-tier markets, but our online and offline advertising plans don’t include third-tier cities or below. That makes it impossible to achieve market penetration. Second, during execution, the ratio of offline to online ad placements became 7:3, which doesn’t align with the strategy we proposed at the beginning of the year. Third, the client now wants full-platform data, but we haven’t yet collected the data for TV ads. So…”

Grace listened carefully, then gave Shang Zhitao a thumbs-up. “Flora, you’re impressive! The three problems you’ve identified are exactly the client’s core issues and the primary focus of our upcoming workshop.”

“Is that so? Are there any other issues?” Shang Zhitao asked.

“No.” Grace smiled. “If you can solve these three, it’ll be impressive enough. The core of the first issue is that the client has rejected the budget for ad placements in third-tier cities and below, believing that demographic lacks purchasing power. This is actually related to the product itself and its pricing—my view is that the client hasn’t grasped this logic. The second issue is that the client’s mindset hasn’t shifted; they still fail to see the opportunities brought by online advertising. So we need to present case studies from competitors. As for the third issue…” Grace paused, lowering her voice, “Let Luke handle it. He’s more familiar with the TV stations. His word carries more weight than ours.”

“Got it.” Shang Zhitao nodded. “I’ll draft the proposal first, then send it to you for review, Grace.”

“Alright. I’ll check it over, then you can go over it with Luke. Make sure he doesn’t find any flaws.”

Shang Zhitao nodded and continued working on the proposal. By noon, she left the office and headed straight to Jishuitan Hospital. Near the hospital, she stopped at a shop to buy flowers and fruit, then called Lumi: “I’m at the hospital now. Which ward and bed is Uncle in?”

“What’s with all the trouble? Aren’t you tired!” Lumi scolded her but hung up and came out to meet her. She saw Shang Zhitao standing outside the hospital entrance, drenched in sweat from the heat.

Though Lumi was usually thick-skinned, she felt a twinge of emotion: “It’s so hot out, yet you went through all this trouble!”

“I just wanted to see him,” Shang Zhitao replied as they went upstairs. Lumi’s father was in a double room, but the other bed was unoccupied. Shang Zhitao placed the flowers on the windowsill and the fruit by the bedside. Then, pulling out some cash she had prepared earlier, she handed it to Lumi: “I know you’re not short on money, but it’s customary where I’m from. Uncle is sick, and this is my way of showing my care. Please don’t refuse.”

Lumi glanced at the money—it was quite a thick stack. Shang Zhitao wasn’t usually extravagant, but handing over two thousand yuan showed how much she valued Lumi. Without hesitation, Lumi took the money. Shang Zhitao then asked, “Have you eaten yet?”

“Not yet.”

“How about I treat you to lunch? I haven’t eaten either—I’m starving.”

“Alright. Though I doubt I’ll have much appetite.”

Shang Zhitao and Lumi took the elevator down. As the doors opened and closed, Lumi suddenly burst into tears: “What the hell is happening to me?!”

Shang Zhitao quickly patted her shoulder. In a hospital, emotional breakdowns were common. People only glanced briefly before returning to their own concerns. Shang Zhitao pulled Lumi’s head onto her shoulder, shielding her from others’ gazes. Lumi was already incredibly strong—her father’s illness and her boyfriend’s betrayal both hitting on the same day must have been unbearable.

By the time they left the hospital, Lumi’s tears hadn’t fully dried. Shang Zhitao knew she was hurting inside and stood beside her silently. She didn’t know what to say. In her mind, Lumi had always been an invincible warrior, fighting against anything life threw at her. But today’s Lumi seemed fragile, like a child, her collapse coming unexpectedly.

After crying her fill, Lumi wiped her tears and asked Shang Zhitao, “Do I look ugly after crying?”

“You look like pear blossoms adorned with raindrops—still beautiful.”

Lumi chuckled: “Since when did you become so smooth-talking?”

“Learned it from you.”

Seeing Lumi slightly cheered, Shang Zhitao felt a bit relieved. They quickly ate a bowl of noodles together before heading back to the office. Once there, Shang Zhitao buried herself in work, finishing the proposal just before six and sending it to Grace. Grace reviewed it quickly, offered a few revisions, and instructed Shang Zhitao to make the changes and send it directly to Luan Nian.

By the time Shang Zhitao finished revising the proposal, it was already past eight in the evening. Luan Nian was still at the office. She sent the file to him and said, “Luke, this is the presentation plan for the Orange Workshop. Please take a look.”

Luan Nian opened the file. Her PowerPoint was well-designed, top-notch quality. After glancing through, he said to her, “Come in here.”

“Okay.”

Shang Zhitao entered his office. Luan Nian gestured to the chair opposite his desk: “Sit.”

She sat upright, head slightly bowed, waiting for him to look up from his computer. It had been a while since they’d been alone together, and Shang Zhitao still felt uneasy. Luan Nian carefully annotated her proposal, then picked up his laptop and moved to the sofa: “Come over here.”

Shang Zhitao walked over and sat next to him. The leather sofa creaked as she sat, causing goosebumps to rise on her skin.

Out of the corner of his eye, Luan Nian noticed the goosebumps on her pale legs. He got up, grabbed his blanket, and tossed it to her. Shang Zhitao caught it and draped it over her legs.

“The general flow of the workshop is that the client presents first—their ideas and requests. Then we present our solutions. Finally, there’s free discussion. I’ve arranged for the marketing team to host a dinner banquet in Shenzhen.” Luan Nian kept his eyes on the computer screen, but the faint scent of gardenia from Shang Zhitao distracted him, causing his brows to furrow unconsciously.

“Start explaining to me from the first page.”

“Should I explain it?”

“Do you think I should explain it?”

“…”

Shang Zhitao had just finished making the PowerPoint and remembered the general content of each slide, though the detailed numbers were blurry. She leaned forward slightly, closing the distance between them. Her hair brushed against Luan Nian’s shoulder, creating a slight breeze. He shifted away, putting some space between them.

Noticing his withdrawal, Shang Zhitao paused quietly for two seconds: “On the first page, I created a summary slide covering strategy, pathways, materials, and data overview. I distilled the content and highlighted the client’s three core issues.”

Midway through her explanation, Shang Zhitao heard Luan Nian drinking water. The image of his Adam’s apple moving suddenly appeared in her mind, making her forget what she was going to say next.

She stared blankly at the PowerPoint, unable to recall her train of thought.

Luan Nian reached out and closed the laptop. Shang Zhitao looked at him in surprise.

“Are you planning to pause like this during the workshop?” Luan Nian asked.

Shang Zhitao didn’t respond. There was no explanation needed—she had let her thoughts wander.

“Reprepare the presentation section. Come back when you’re ready.”

“Alright.”

Shang Zhitao exhaled deeply. Her mind had been filled with strange thoughts, preventing her from focusing. She removed the blanket, folded it neatly, and set it aside—it still held her warmth. Grabbing her laptop, she walked out.

She sat outside for a while. All the colleagues had left, and she didn’t feel like going back into Luan Nian’s office. She messaged him: “Luke, I have something to take care of. Can I rehearse with you tomorrow?”

“Fine.”

Luan Nian replied with a single word, then stood up to gather his things. Deep inside, he harbored violent thoughts of tearing Shang Zhitao apart. He feared he might lose control.

Luan Nian was aware of his laughable pride and knew he had never been a good person. He lacked empathy and hated complications. He was, through and through, an extremely selfish, refined egoist.

That’s why he had to cut ties cleanly.