Chapter 7#

The exhibition hall manager came running at the news, apologizing profusely for the accident.

The empty frames lay scattered across the floor. Ji Chen stood meekly to one side, looking as though he wished the ground would swallow him up.

For the moment, though, no one had much attention to spare for the culprit — everyone’s concern was directed at Yan Zishu’s hand.

Helen arrived and whisked Zeng Peirong off to the nearest shopping mall to buy her a replacement skirt. Meanwhile, Fu Weishan proceeded with the original plan, leading Zeng Chuyi through to the back offices. Zeng Zhanpeng shot several glances in Yan Zishu’s direction before ultimately following his father.

Better that way. Yan Zishu had no wish to tend to his wound with an audience.

The manager brought him to the office, retrieved a first-aid kit, and cleaned the cut with alcohol. The bleeding had stopped; fortunately, it wasn’t deep.

“Cuts on the hand generally won’t leave a scar, as long as they’re not too serious,” the manager said, closing the kit and mopping his brow. “That said, since it was a nail, Director Yan, you should still go to the hospital for a tetanus shot. Ji Chen — how could you be so careless?”

Ji Chen’s face had gone crimson. “I’m really so sorry. It’s just that — "

“Just what? Just an accident? Just a moment of carelessness? Just that nobody sat you down and taught you step by step?” Yan Zishu fixed him with a sidelong look.

The manager stood nearby, smiling awkwardly and saying nothing. He bore some responsibility too — poor oversight on his part. Still, this kid was genuinely unreliable.

“Every worker on this floor knows,” Yan Zishu said, “that materials are transported via the freight elevator and the staff corridors, because the exhibition hall contains numerous artworks — brushing up against any one of them could cause enormous losses. Why should you be the only one exempt from that rule?”

Ji Chen looked up. “I’m sorry, Director Yan’s assistant — I truly didn’t know that rule.”

The manager didn’t dare openly defend himself in front of Yan Zishu, but he fumed internally: I made a point of emphasizing it at the all-hands briefing. Who knew your mind was off floating in some other universe? Slippery as an eel, this one. University students these days — remarkable.

And on top of that — who transports tall rectangular frames standing upright? Didn’t that completely block your line of sight?

Truly an unfathomable way of thinking.

Fortunately, Yan Zishu demonstrated his characteristic discernment — he directed his remarks solely at Ji Chen, and with his uninjured hand gave the young man a pat on the shoulder. “All right. Come with me.”

Yan Zishu led Ji Chen back to the entrance of the exhibition hall and gestured toward the wall. Three large KT-board posters printed in color laid out the Notice to Staff — clear, itemized rules covering everything from transporting oil paintings face-in to the requirement to use the staff corridor. It was all there.

During the installation period, they were always displayed like this; they’d be put away again once the work was done.

This time, Ji Chen had nothing to say. “I… I didn’t see them… I’ll use the staff corridor from now on, I promise. Can I stay?”

Yan Zishu didn’t answer the question directly. “I won’t say more than this. You’re not a permanent employee, so there’s limited point in lecturing you further. As for whether you stay or go — head back for now and wait for word.”

Ji Chen opened his mouth, hesitated, and said nothing. At a visible pace, his eyes reddened and grew glassy.

The manager watched him on the verge of tears and felt genuinely startled. I’m the one getting my bonus docked and even I’m not crying. Over an internship? Surely not. This kid — why isn’t he auditioning for a drama competition?

*

Yan Zishu went to the hospital for his tetanus shot. When he returned, Ji Chen was still sitting on the outdoor steps, arms wrapped around his knees.

Ji Chen didn’t see him. Yan Zishu had no desire to interrupt whatever soul-searching was happening, and walked past without acknowledging him.

By now the Zeng family had returned to the hotel. Fu Weishan remained alone in the main lobby of the exhibition hall while the manager gave him a work update.

Once the briefing was finished and the manager noticed Yan Zishu had returned, he asked with genuine concern, “The doctor said there’s no serious damage?”

Yan Zishu smiled. “Minor issue — just need to keep it dry for a while.”

The manager had thought to ask; Fu Weishan had said nothing at all. As a matter of fact, he knew Yan Zishu had gone to the hospital — but in Fu Weishan’s mind, his assistant was a work machine. When a machine part broke, you sent it to the repair shop, and when it came back, everything continued as before.

When the manager had returned to his post, Yan Zishu spoke: “About the intern today — "

He got no further. Both of them noticed a slight figure lurking behind a pillar.

Ji Chen emerged from behind it, shuffled over to Fu Weishan, and then, abruptly, bowed a full ninety degrees. “I’m sorry, CEO Fu! Everything that happened today was my fault! I — "

Yan Zishu let his unfinished sentence go, and quirked the corner of his mouth.

Ji Chen faltered. “…I’d like to ask — could you give me another chance? This job really means a great deal to me… I swear I will never make a mistake like this again.”

Fu Weishan studied him for a long moment. Ji Chen’s voice grew smaller and smaller. He bowed his head, bracing for the reprimand.

Fu Weishan smiled. “Of course.”

Ji Chen’s expression transformed. “Really?”

Fu Weishan was magnanimous. “It’s nothing to worry about. Young people make mistakes — don’t take a small slip at work so much to heart.”

His quarry had finally come back to him.

This time, Fu Weishan invited Ji Chen to dinner at the Sky Garden — the same place where Zeng Zhanpeng’s group had eaten a few days before. With its lush greenery and clusters of flowers, it served not only for formal client entertainment but rather nicely for a romantic rendezvous.

Helen, booking the reservation this time, was somewhat bewildered. What exactly is going on? I heard Ji Chen made another mess of things, and yet the boss wants to take him to dinner? Does he actually have something going on?

She’d briefly considered pumping Yan Zishu for information, then thought better of it — she knew that mouth of his: nothing slipped out before its proper time.

After much deliberation, the one comfort she could find was that it had been Yan Zishu who filled out Ji Chen’s performance review, and Yan Zishu who arranged his transfer out of the secretarial office. Perhaps it wasn’t entirely charitable to find reassurance in this, but Helen clasped her hands together inwardly: Probably not too serious a problem?

Yan Zishu, for his part, had no idea what she was fretting over. He was in the middle of driving Ji Chen back to campus after dinner.

Ji Chen was noticeably warier of Yan Zishu now — the man had an unfortunate habit, through no special intention, of playing the stern face whenever their paths crossed. With Fu Weishan and the others absent, Ji Chen sat in the passenger seat, listening to the traffic broadcast, not daring to move a muscle.

Yan Zishu glanced over at Ji Chen from the corner of his eye. Fu Weishan had certainly played his warm, benevolent role to perfection — Ji Chen’s expression had recovered all its usual brightness. When they stopped at a red light, Ji Chen worked up his nerve. “Um… Director Yan’s assistant — I’m really sorry again about getting you hurt today.”

True to form, the reply was Yan Zishu’s style: “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Ji Chen tried to patch things up between them. “I’ll work hard from now on.”

What Yan Zishu actually hoped was that Ji Chen would refrain from causing chaos and devote himself to his romance with Fu Weishan — because a working person only spent some percentage of their time being challenged by formidable opponents, and spent the rest being tormented by incompetent teammates.

But — fine. He mentally added cleaning up Ji Chen’s messes to his work plan, and smiled. “That’s good to hear.”

When he wasn’t smiling, he was cold as frost; when he was, it disarmed you completely. Ji Chen tilted his head to look at him. Something about that smile — like spring blossoms dazzling the eye — made Ji Chen’s own lips curve without thinking, and his whole body relaxed.

“Assistant Yan, have you been working with CEO Fu for a long time?”

“You could say that.”

“CEO Fu… I didn’t expect someone like him to have absolutely no airs about him — so young, so capable, and so approachable.”

“Mm.”

“Oh, right — I also gave CEO Fu two theater tickets. It’s a production by our university’s drama society. If there’s time…”

“If CEO Fu attends, I’ll be there as well.”

Ji Chen’s eyes lit up. “Great! Then it’s settled.”

He got out near the south gate of the campus and waved goodbye to Yan Zishu.

Yan Zishu raised an eyebrow, watching his figure disappear, and turned the verdict of “CEO Fu is so approachable” over in his mind. While he was doing so, three WeChat notifications in quick succession popped up on his phone mounted on the dashboard. Since he hadn’t pulled back into traffic yet, Yan Zishu tapped to open them.

One from Fu Weishan: Come back when you’ve dropped him off.

One from Fu Jinchi: Have you gone to the hospital yet?

The last one was from one of Fu Weishan’s romantic interests — Yan Zishu thought for a moment: the daughter of some minor entrepreneur, a small-time starlet of no real standing. Mr. Yan, is CEO Fu quite busy these days? I’d like to meet with him — could you help arrange something?

Regarding the feelings of the two main characters, Yan Zishu had always maintained the attitude of a detached observer — doing only what he was meant to do, offering no opinion, letting things unfold as they would. But as an outsider, he found himself in agreement, in the end, with this much: being a little cold-hearted never led anyone wrong.