IMH - 3

Before returning to the country, Yu Qian received a reply from the HR department of “Eleven,” expressing their anticipation to collaborate with her.

At that time, Peter teased her: “Finally being smart, knowing to find a stable company to settle down with in your old age.”

Yu Qian didn’t think much of it then, but now, looking at it, working at “Eleven” did resemble retirement.

It was too leisurely, so much so that she found it hard to adjust.

The noisy environment of the photography studio and lounge was what she was accustomed to.

So accustomed, in fact, that she considered the clamor a form of quietness. After all, she had grown up in such an environment.

As far back as Yu Qian could remember, she was always in the photography studio, interacting with photographers, makeup artists, set designers, and various unnamed staff members.

Her professional experience began even before her memory—dating back to infancy.

Back then, her mother asked a photographer from a photo studio to take her hundred-day photos. After the photos were taken, the owner of the studio came over, saying the pictures were exceptionally beautiful and wanted to use them for promotional purposes.

Later, other studios approached them, offering compensation to photograph her for their promotions.

And after that?

She appeared in promotional advertisements for local TV stations and was discovered by a modeling agency at the age of five, eventually becoming a child model.

But who would want to work non-stop from birth?

Perhaps this life was too leisurely, or perhaps the somewhat dry climate of the capital city awakened past memories.

Yu Qian had an unpleasant dream.

In the dream was the unfamiliar campus, where she stood in the teacher’s office, facing a couple shorter than her, who pointed at her nose, accusing her of being the main culprit behind the school violence.

That’s not true.

I didn’t do it.

Yu Qian woke up from such a dream, tearing off her silk eye mask, feeling listless.

At this moment, the phone on her bedside lit up, set to silent mode with only the screen glowing.

She detached herself from the dream, calmed her emotions, and answered the call.

It was already midnight at 12 o’clock. The assistant on the line sounded like they were about to cry, speaking with utmost caution, almost breathless: “Teacher Yu, are you asleep?”

“I’m awake.”

“Oh, did I wake you? I’m very sorry, Teacher Yu…”

Yu Qian interrupted the assistant’s meaningless chatter and directly spoke: “Just call me Yu Qian. Also, is there something you need my help with?”

Fifteen minutes later, the work assistant stood downstairs at the hotel, opening the car door for Yu Qian.

There was a sudden issue with the models at the shooting base; three models had mild food poisoning and were sent to the hospital, urgently needing someone to fill in.

There weren’t many models staying at the company hotel, so Yu Qian received the call.

The work assistant was worried that Yu Qian might be unhappy about being called in to work in the middle of the night. During a red light, she glanced back through the rearview mirror.

Yu Qian wore a loose coat, her long hair draped over her chest, her expression calm, showing no signs of dissatisfaction, flipping through a magazine.

When getting out of the car, the assistant noticed the magazine spread open on the backseat—

It was the first issue of the magazine published by “Eleven,” very thin, with content that wasn’t particularly refined.

Without any brand support, the prime pages featured a campaign against the buying, selling, and killing of protected animals. For more great reads, follow the WeChat Official Account: Little Cotton Recommendation.

There were several such magazines in the car. Later, as “Eleven” grew larger, the pages became exquisite too, yet she unexpectedly chose to read this “simple” one.

The assistant made conversation: “Do you like this kind of thematic shoot?”

Yu Qian smiled and said the magazine’s publication date was quite good.

Only now did the assistant notice that the publication date of the first issue coincided with Yu Qian’s birthday, exclaiming: “What a coincidence!”

The shoot went smoothly. Yu Qian’s natural beauty in front of the camera amazed the photographer.

As time passed into the late hours, the assistant remained by her side, fearing to offend the model.

In truth, the assistant had also heard various rumors about Yu Qian.

She assumed that the woman rumored to have cohabited with an internationally renowned fashion designer, aside from having a pretty face, would also possess the typical traits of being fussy and troublesome, fitting the image of a mere flower vase.

Unexpectedly, Yu Qian was extremely professional.

When kneeling on a pile of flowers, the makeup artist asked if she needed skin protection on her knees. She waved it off, not necessary.

Only at 3 a.m., during a makeup touch-up break, did Yu Qian politely ask the assistant if it was convenient to make her a cup of coffee.

The rest area had plenty of instant coffee, but considering the models’ figures, it was all black coffee without sugar or milk, and the taste wasn’t great.

The assistant felt regretful, thinking she should have bought coffee for Yu Qian in advance.

Blaming herself for neglecting her duties, she walked out.

Upon opening the door, she saw her boss standing outside.

Cheng Xiaonan didn’t know how long he had been there, quietly leaning against the wall opposite the door.

One hand was in his pocket, the other raised, the second knuckle of his index finger lightly tapping his nose, lost in thought.

The corridor was very quiet at midnight. The assistant froze at his gesture.

Lately, it seemed common to see people making such habitual movements?

But she felt caught slacking off and, before she could think further, stuttered: “Cheng, Cheng…”

Cheng Xiaonan acted as if he had just noticed her presence, raising his hand to make a “shh” gesture and turned to leave.

Not taking two steps, he turned back and pointed towards the lounge: “You’ve worked hard. The company has prepared coffee; bring it in and share it with everyone.”

Those days were around the autumn equinox, with sharp drops in temperature morning and night. The photographer aimed for perfection, and as it was a series shoot, they often worked until the early morning.

Yu Qian was accustomed to such a work rhythm, and the assistant was considerate, preparing hot coffee daily to refresh and warm everyone.

On September 26th, the last day of this series shoot, the weather was terrible, with wind warnings frequently popping up on phones.

All windows in the lounge were tightly closed, filled with models and staff. Despite the standing air conditioner running, it still felt stuffy.

The assistant signed for the coffee personally ordered by their boss outside the door, feeling uneasy inside.

She worried that perhaps the boss thought she was unworthy of being Yu Qian’s assistant, hence taking care of everything himself, even ordering coffee personally.

Carrying the coffee over, Yu Qian was resting her head on one hand, watching a video on her tablet.

Wrapped in a navy-blue knit blanket, she looked like an oil painting when still.

The assistant spoke softly, afraid of disturbing her: “Qian, excuse me, the coffee’s here.”

“Not disturbing.”

Yu Qian paused the video, turned her head to receive the coffee, “Thank you.”

“What are you watching? A movie? A drama?”

Yu Qian shook her head, swiped to show the video title to the assistant.

Surprisingly, it was a high-intensity action film, paused at an ambiguous scene.

The assistant quickly said: “Then continue, continue.”

“No point watching, it’s boring.” Yu Qian turned off the video.

The assistant said: “The male lead in this movie has one of the best physiques for this genre, much better than those poorly built ones who look creepy.”

Yu Qian didn’t say anything. It wasn’t because of the male lead’s appearance that she found it uninteresting.

Yu Qian understood the principle of not speaking deeply to shallow acquaintances better than anyone.

The movie on the tablet was downloaded by a temporary assistant while she was abroad.

Perhaps unsure of her preferences, the assistant downloaded various types of movies for her.

Yu Qian didn’t like watching such action films, not for any other reason, but because women in these films were often portrayed as passive and unwilling, which made her very uncomfortable.

She clicked on it merely because the thumbnail of the static image showed a man taking off his T-shirt with one hand—a move that seemed somewhat familiar.

Finishing the last set of photos was again in the early morning. Yu Qian removed her heavy makeup in the lounge, casually tidied her hair, and followed the assistant out.

They were the last group to leave the photography base, so the corridor was silent. While waiting for the elevator, Yu Qian looked out of the window.

The strong winds continued, the large palm-shaped leaves of the London plane trees exposed only on their backsides, resembling fish flipping white in water.

These scenes were sealed beyond the glass window, appearing unreal like a backdrop.

As Yu Qian withdrew her gaze, she happened to see the elevator slowly ascending from below.

The elevator was transparent, with a tall man standing inside.

By intuition, it was Cheng Xiaonan.

This was Yu Qian’s first direct encounter with Cheng Xiaonan since joining “Eleven” nearly a month ago.

In the few seconds it took for the elevator to reach the floor and the doors to slowly open, Yu Qian, like any person waiting for the elevator, showed no change in expression or posture.

In contrast, the work assistant beside her suddenly tensed up, stifling a yawn halfway, straightening her back, and calling out “President Cheng.” Subsequently, both entered the elevator.

Cheng Xiaonan hadn’t planned to appear so early. For several days, he had let the assistant sign for the coffee deliveries, without an excuse to visit the lounge and make his presence known.

He heard that Yu Qian was thriving at “Eleven.”

Due to her strong professional skills, photographers and staff treated her with respect.

She was generous too, sharing meals with seniors, colleagues, and younger brothers in the workplace.

The only difference was—

With seniors and colleagues, she was proper and formal;

With the younger brothers, she always joked and teased.

These were things Cheng Xiaonan “accidentally” heard about. Upon hearing them, he didn’t lose his composure.

But today, the weather was truly terrible.

Cheng Xiaonan stood by the conference room window, watching the street scenery all afternoon, seeing tree branches snapped by the wind, and trash can lids blown off.

Suddenly struck by youthful impulsiveness, he felt he should make an appearance.

Teasing and flirting with those younger brothers was fine.

But in such awful weather, who could appear to send her home?

However, Yu Qian acted as if she didn’t recognize him at all. Even after hearing the assistant call out “President Cheng,” she only slightly turned her head.

Only after the assistant introduced, “This is our company’s boss, President Cheng,” did she nod in understanding and follow up with a greeting.

The phrase “Long time no see,” which Cheng Xiaonan had rehearsed countless times, suddenly got stuck in his throat.

Stuck, neither up nor down, choking uncomfortably.

The assistant’s car didn’t have access to the underground garage of the shooting base and could only park in the outdoor lot, requiring a walk over. How dare she let Yu Qian go with her.

The assistant tightened her coat and told Yu Qian: “Wait here. I’ll drive the car to the entrance to pick you up.”

Behind them came the elevator’s “ding” sound.

Cheng Xiaonan returned from the underground garage, pressing the door-open button: “Get in, I’ll give you a ride.”