After a period of clocking in and out on time, once all the previously piled-up business wrapped up and new projects negotiated by Qin Juanshu or Lin Si himself were scheduled, Bai Ying returned to his routine overtime.
Overtime was par for the course in this line of work—24-hour scheme revisions were commonplace. Fortunately, Qin Juanshu ran a tight ship and had the clout to back it up, so he wouldn’t tolerate clients constantly changing requirements. Bai Ying suffered far less torment from the clients as a result.
Most importantly—the bonuses were incredibly generous!
Bai Ying stuffed his shopping cart to the brim, just waiting for the bonus payout to buy everything at once.
Though the bonuses dangled temptingly ahead, when things got so hectic he felt like hanging himself, Bai Ying would quietly tally up his list of potential feeders in his mind. If this list existed in real life, it would surely be a scribbled mess, with names added and crossed out over and over.
Some because they were afraid of snakes, some because they liked big snakes, some because they didn’t even know if they liked snakes yet, some because it felt weird to have a childhood playmate take care of him, and others because how could one snake keep another…
In the end, Bai Ying sprawled over his desk in frustration and mentally closed his little notebook.
Whatever, whatever. Finding a feeder could wait. Qin Juanshu had just given him a raise; quitting now would feel off.
It was lunchtime, but Bai Ying was waiting for a collaborating influencer to reply, so he couldn’t nap. He lay on his desk, cheek pressed against the cool surface, staring at the cactus in the corner of his desk as his gaze gradually unfocused.
Until he heard Lu Changjun’s voice.
“Senior, I brought you some milk tea!” Lu Changjun, who had returned to school for some days, suddenly showed up at the office to spread some warmth. He placed a big bag of milk teas and desserts on an empty desk for his colleagues to grab, but the one tailored to Bai Ying’s taste he carried over personally.
Bai Ying lifted his head, his cheek from before still red: “Xiao Lu, you’re back. How did the defense go?”
Lu Changjun pulled up a chair and sat: “It’s just the early prep. The final draft of the thesis already passed. My advisor said there were no issues; the formal defense is in May.”
“Oh right, it’s only April now.” Bai Ying had graduated over three years ago and had long forgotten the details of his own graduation.
A message notification beeped from his computer—the influencer for the promo collab had finally replied. Bai Ying quickly turned his gaze back to the screen, typing in the chat window while saying to Lu Changjun, “Xiao Lu, you haven’t written your internship evaluation yet, right? Bring me the booklet later, and I’ll write it.”
He would definitely praise Xiao Lu to the skies.
Lu Changjun watched Bai Ying’s focused profile, his hand on the desk clenching as if trying to grasp something not yet in his reach. His voice deepened, lacking its usual cheer and sounding solemn: “Senior, after the internship ends, I have something I want to say to you.”
“Sure.” Bai Ying spared a glance and smiled at him. “I’ll treat you to dinner then, to celebrate.”
Lu Changjun asked, “Can I pick the place?”
Bai Ying joked, “Don’t bankrupt me, okay.”
“I won’t.” Lu Changjun thought to himself that he definitely wouldn’t mess it up like last time.
After moping for a while, Lu Changjun finally rallied again. With the internship nearing its end, he could no longer stay with his senior under that pretext. He resolved to advance his relationship with Bai Ying once the internship wrapped up.
If he failed… Lu Changjun refused to consider that possibility.
He would prepare thoroughly.
Bai Ying threw himself into work, and the busyness made time fly. Near quitting time, Lin Si suddenly arrived at the office to announce something.
Zhonghe had landed an unprecedented major deal.
It was the promotional rollout for a movie—famous director, famous screenwriter, famous actors, a star-studded cast that blew minds, backed by heavy-hitter investors one bigger than the next, including Minghong. The movie-related materials Lin Si handed out were a thick stack. The Zhonghe underlings were uneasy: “We’re handling the promo? For real?”
“Of course we’re not doing the whole thing. The main force is a film promo company under Minghong in the Capital City; we’re just assisting,” Lin Si said.
As for why Minghong Group, rooted in Shen City, had a film promo company all the way in the Capital City—and how much Qin Family internal drama that involved—that wasn’t for Zhonghe’s rank-and-file to know.
They only knew that even as assistants, this—the biggest project Zhonghe had ever taken since its founding—required everyone’s all-out effort. Of the three teams under the Zhonghe studio, Lin Si kept only one for regular business; the other two would spend the rest of the year on the movie promo.
Coordinating with the lead company, liaising endlessly with upstream and downstream partners, frequent business trips… all foreseeable.
Lin Si painted a picture: year-end bonuses starting at five figures.
Everyone was stunned. The broke company had never given year-end bonuses before—the dog boss always cried poor at year-end. After the acquisition and new boss, they could finally experience what it felt like!
The office erupted in cheers; Lin Si was dumbfounded by the former capitalists’ inhumanity.
Qin Juanshu hadn’t shown his face the whole time.
Come to think of it, Bai Ying hadn’t seen Qin Juanshu for days. Lin Si had been overseeing recent work; if not for the occasional afternoon tea deliveries ordered by Qin Juanshu, they might have thought he’d been transferred. After work that day, Bai Ying couldn’t help but ask Lin Si.
Boss’s whereabouts weren’t to be casually shared, but who was this guy? The one Qin Juanshu had specially instructed to look after more. Lin Si pondered: “President Qin, he…”
Lin Si hesitated.
How to put it? On the surface, Qin Juanshu stood with Qin Chi, helping him fight his uncles and brothers, but in secret, he allied with Qin Xian, becoming the deepest, deadliest thorn in Qin Chi’s side. Never mind if she could even say that—the Qin Family infighting was way too complicated.
Lin Si finally said, “He seems to be busy teaching someone a lesson.”
That wasn’t a lie. After the incident with Bai Ying at the Willow Mansion dinner, though he returned unscathed, those who dared lay hands on him had to pay. Fang Peng was beaten half to death on the spot, both arms that touched Bai Ying broken. But that wasn’t enough—his Fang Family behind him, the little celeb who helped, the entertainment company backing the celeb… rumor had it things had been quite eventful lately.
Lin Si had helped Qin Juanshu with some private matters. While digging dirt on that little celeb, she discovered several factions moving together. Later, it turned into a race to unearth, release, and spread the fastest. Lin Si was baffled.
No way—people competed this hard to avenge someone these days?
Bai Ying had no idea it involved him; Lin Si didn’t mention it in front of him. Qin Juanshu had said not to dirty Bai Ying’s eyes with such things. Lin Si pulled a small cake from her fridge to feed him and said, “Perfect, I have something to ask you too.”
Unexpectedly, Bai Ying came to her first, asking about Qin Juanshu’s whereabouts. Lin Si thought she could report this to Qin Juanshu later to make him happy—maybe score extra bonus. She said while Bai Ying held the cake, “I’ve coordinated with the crew. We’re sending an employee to join them—strengthen ties, gain film insight, and shoot behind-the-scenes for promo. I recommend you. What do you think?”
Bai Ying nodded. “No problem.”
He always did whatever his boss assigned, no strong personal initiative, but he was a model employee when it came to following orders.
“Done.” Lin Si, who had fully taken over Zhonghe in Qin Juanshu’s absence, made the call. “Xiao Bai, no overtime tonight. Go home, pack. Join the crew tomorrow. They’re shooting in the mountains now—conditions might be rough. The crew’s supply van only goes down once a week; pack extra.”
Lin Si scratched her hair, feeling the arrangement iffy: “First week’s always busiest. I’ll send someone to help… Xiao Lu. Young folks have stamina, probably interested in filmmaking too. Have him go with you the first week.”
Lin Si thought her plan was brilliant.
The recently returned Lin Assistant didn’t know the Lu Family young master had deigned to intern at this rundown company, nor that certain crew members despised her boss—for the same person… Lin Si cheerfully imagined her work report to Qin Juanshu, stuffed some snacks at Bai Ying, and waved him off work.
On the subway home, Bai Ying messaged his neighbor: [Tan Ming, I’m heading to the mountains too! What a coincidence—you went for work recently, and now me a few days later.]
No reply from Tan Ming for a long time—maybe busy or no signal in the mountains.
Wait.
Bai Ying gripped his phone, suddenly sensing something off.
Tan Ming joined as screenwriter, he for promo—both on crews shooting in the mountains… No way it was that coincidental?
Bai Ying typed solemnly: [Tan Ming, which mountain did you go to?]
But Tan Ming couldn’t reply all night. A night scene shot from sunset to dawn; due to real-life issues, he revised the script on the fly, completely missing when his phone died and shut off.
The next day at dawn, Bai Ying met Lu Changjun, waiting downstairs. Excited to travel with his senior, Lu Changjun—up since four—looked spirited. Bai Ying wore casual clothes for mobility; morning mist dampened his hair, softly falling as he let out a small yawn.
Lu Changjun took the heavy suitcase from him, easily lifted it into the trunk. Bai Ying softly thanked him.
Lu Changjun slid into the driver’s seat, hit the gas, excitement slipping through: “Senior, I heard the crew’s temp housing is short on rooms. We’ll probably share one!”
Bai Ying, wrestling a stubborn bread wrapper, looked up blankly.
Eh, did that mean he couldn’t secretly shift back to his true form?
The little snake, who grew downcast from staying shifted too long, felt his mood sink early.
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