I felt an urge to turn and leave. To think I had to serve her now. She stood high above, while I seemed so small and insignificant.
“Please have a seat, Miss Qiu,” she said smugly.
I handed her my business card.
“We’ve met before and spoken on the phone,” she said.
She launched into a lengthy explanation of her ideas, including plans to sponsor celebrities to wear her designs.
“You’re close with Zhu Meng Meng, aren’t you?” she asked. “She’s so popular now; we should sponsor her.”
“She might not agree,” I said. I knew Meng Meng would never accept sponsorship from Cheng Die’en’s company.
“That depends on you,” Cheng Die’en said, her tone menacing.
Just then, her secretary interrupted with a call from someone named Mr. Qu. It had to be Qu Xiao Jue.
“Lunch? Sure, see you later,” she said over the phone.
“I’ll draft a proposal for you. If there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave,” I said, standing up.
“Are you okay?” she suddenly asked.
“What do you mean?” I asked back.
“Xiao Jue said you seem to have some mental issues,” she said, right in front of the two senior staff members.
“Miss Cheng, Yunsheng would never send an employee with mental issues to collaborate with you,” I countered.
She smiled.
Xiao Jue had actually told her I had mental issues.
“Can someone else be assigned to handle this project?” I asked Fang Yuan.
“Why?” he asked in return.
“It’s nothing—”
“Everyone else already has their hands full, and I think this project suits you well.”
“Then I’ll continue with it,” I said helplessly.
Surprisingly, Cheng Die’en didn’t make things too difficult for me. She had already won; there was no need to trouble herself with me further.
Finally, I decided to reach out to Meng Meng. We agreed to meet at a café in Mong Kok.
“Why haven’t you contacted me?” she asked as soon as she sat down.
“I’ve been busy with work,” I said. (How could I tell her that she made me feel inferior?)
“Do you want me to wear clothes from her company? She’s your rival in love.”
“She’s my client now.”
“Is this for your sake, or are you trying to please Xiao Jue?”
“I’m done trying to please him,” I said.
“Then I’ll agree.”
“Thank you.”
“There’s someone who wants to see you.”
“Who? Tie Han?”
“He’s here!” Meng Meng said, pointing toward the entrance of the café.
It turned out to be Yu De Ren.
“It’s been a while,” he said shyly.
“You two have a nice chat. I’ve got an interview with a journalist nearby, so I’ll head out first. Call me later!” Meng Meng patted my shoulder before leaving.
Yu De Ren was about to speak when I interrupted him.
“Don’t bring up Xiao Jue—”
“I haven’t seen him lately,” he said.
“You don’t have to avoid meeting him because of me.”
“He’s too busy chasing after that rich girl to meet any of us these days.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Why are you apologizing?” he asked, surprised.
“That day, when I called you ‘low-class,’ it came back to bite me. I’m the low-class one now,” I said with a bitter smile.
“Let it go. I’m just relieved to see that you’re doing fine.”
“I’m fine,” I said.
But how could he know that my wounds still ached deeply in the quiet of the night?
After leaving the café, I wandered the streets alone. Suddenly, I thought of the model shop and decided to stop by.
“It’s you?” The shop owner recognized me. “Have you finished building that Wild Weasel jet?”
I nodded. The shelves no longer stocked that model.
“No more shipments. It’s not a new model, and few people buy it. The one you got was the last one.”
Just as I was about to leave, Gao Hai Ming walked in.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“I was just passing by,” I replied.
I noticed he was holding a cardboard box.
“Delivering a finished model?” I asked.
He nodded, handing the model to the shop owner and receiving a thousand yuan in return.
“Are you free? Now that I’ve been paid, I can treat you to dinner,” he said.
“Sure!” I replied.
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