Chapter 12
Jing Ciying’s immediate reaction was to refuse.
It was after work hours. No sane employee wanted to spend time with their boss, even if it seemed like a kind gesture.
“No thank you, Mr. Pei. I’m almost there,” he said, waving his hand dismissively.
But Pei Songji wasn’t giving him a choice. “Get in,” he repeated.
Jing Ciying: “…”
Defeated, he got into the car.
“Where are you going?” Pei Songji asked.
He had been on his way to the hospital, but he couldn’t tell Pei Songji that. He didn’t want him to know about his family situation.
It wasn’t about shame, but about self-preservation in the workplace. It was best to keep personal matters private, especially from one’s boss. He gave his home address instead.
It was a place Pei Songji had never heard of.
But since he wasn’t driving, he didn’t care. The driver would know the way.
The car fell silent. Jing Ciying discreetly observed Pei Songji, wondering what was wrong. He seemed annoyed.
He wasn’t sure whether to maintain the silence or initiate conversation.
Pei Songji made the decision for him. “What are you doing out so late?”
“I was having dinner with a friend,” Jing Ciying replied.
“A friend?” Pei Songji’s voice was neutral, but he lingered on the word. “Which friend?”
Jing Ciying hesitated. Should he tell the truth?
Although there was nothing inappropriate about his dinner with Ji Shuhuai, it might seem odd for him, Pei Songji’s secretary, to be socializing with a business partner privately.
Pei Songji might suspect him of leaking information.
His mind raced, and he decided against honesty.
“You wouldn’t know them.”
“Is that so?” Pei Songji seemed to want to say something but stopped himself, turning away to look out the window.
The air in the car suddenly felt thick with tension.
Although Pei Songji hadn’t said anything, Jing Ciying sensed he had given the wrong answer. It was too late to change it now. He remained silent.
Pei Songji didn’t speak either. The silence continued throughout the journey.
An hour later, the car stopped in front of a run-down residential area, resembling an urban village.
“Mr. Pei, this is as far as I can go. The road ahead is too narrow,” the driver said.
Pei Songji looked out the window.
Old, six-story red brick buildings lined the street, their height somehow seeming oppressive, their haphazard arrangement connected by narrow alleyways.
Street food stalls crowded the sidewalks, adding to the chaotic scene.
Pei Songji was surprised. Jing Ciying’s salary was more than enough to afford a decent apartment in the city.
Why was he living here?
He looked at Jing Ciying, who offered no explanation, simply thanking him politely and getting out of the car.
Jing Ciying intended to pretend to go inside, then return to the hospital after Pei Songji left.
But Pei Songji didn’t leave, remaining in the car as if waiting for something.
“Thank you for the ride, Mr. Pei,” Jing Ciying repeated.
“You’re welcome.”
Jing Ciying waited for him to leave, but he didn’t move.
Since Pei Songji wasn’t leaving, Jing Ciying couldn’t either. He hesitated, then offered politely, “Would you like to come up for some tea, Mr. Pei?”
He expected Pei Songji to refuse. He couldn’t imagine him stepping foot in such a place.
“Sure,” Pei Songji said.
Jing Ciying: “…”
He had just been being polite.
But Pei Songji got out of the car.
Jing Ciying had no choice but to lead him inside.
He hadn’t wanted to bring Pei Songji home. He had always kept his personal life private at work, offering vague responses to any inquiries.
It wasn’t about shame, but about his ingrained self-reliance. He didn’t need pity, especially not from Pei Songji.
But today, his carefully constructed facade had crumbled.
Perhaps it was fate.
His apartment was in the back, so they walked for a while.
As he opened the door, he handed Pei Songji a pair of slippers, noticing the dust and mud on his expensive, handcrafted shoes.
Everything about Pei Songji seemed out of place here.
“Please come in, Mr. Pei.”
“Thank you.” Pei Songji entered, pausing to survey the apartment.
Although the exterior had prepared him, the interior was even more spartan than he had imagined.
It was barely a home, more like a sparsely furnished showroom.
The living room contained only a sofa, a coffee table, and a dining table.
Further inside were two bedrooms. One was as empty as the living room, with just a bed and a wardrobe. The other room was slightly more furnished, mostly in pink, clearly a woman’s room.
Pei Songji paused. Did Jing Ciying have a girlfriend?
“Tea, Mr. Pei,” Jing Ciying said, handing him a cup.
Pei Songji took the cup. It was ordinary jasmine tea, the strong aroma indicating its inexpensive nature.
He took a sip.
“Why are you living here?” he asked, finally voicing the question that had been on his mind.
Jing Ciying understood his confusion.
With the generous salary he received, living in such a place seemed odd. If Pei Songji hadn’t come unannounced, he might have suspected him of trying to gain sympathy.
The answer was simple. His sister’s medical bills were exorbitant, consuming all his income.
He rarely stayed at his apartment, only returning for a quick shower and sleep, so there was no need for anything luxurious.
He had only put effort into decorating his sister’s room, keeping everything else minimal.
But he couldn’t bring himself to say the words.
Silence stretched between them.
He didn’t have to answer. The surroundings spoke for themselves.
Jing Ciying was desperately short of money.
Pei Songji didn’t pry further, leaving after a short visit.
Jing Ciying went to the hospital after he left.
The next day at work, Pei Songji didn’t mention the visit, so Jing Ciying assumed the matter was closed.
But when he received his next paycheck, he discovered his salary had doubled.
He immediately called the finance department, thinking it was a mistake.
“No, everything is correct,” the finance officer assured him.
It dawned on him that Pei Songji had given him a raise.
But why?
Because of his living situation?
If so, he couldn’t accept it. Although he needed the money, it felt wrong.
He went to Pei Songji’s office.
Pei Songji looked up from his documents.
“Mr. Pei.”
“Yes?”
“I received my paycheck today, and there seems to be a discrepancy.”
Pei Songji didn’t deny his involvement. “There’s no discrepancy.”
“But…”
“Actually, since you’re here, I have something to discuss with you.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Secretary Liang couldn’t adapt to the workload and has resigned. So, you’ll be my sole personal secretary again. No more rotation. That salary is what you deserve.”
Jing Ciying was stunned. He had thought Pei Songji wanted to fire him. But after visiting his apartment, everything had changed. Not only had Liang resigned, but his salary had doubled.
He would be doing the same amount of work for twice the pay.
He couldn’t tell if this was a genuine acknowledgment of his work or an act of pity.
Regardless, he was grateful.
“Thank you, boss,” he said sincerely.
Despite the increased workload, he had no complaints, working even harder.
Money was indeed a powerful motivator.
He had once scoffed at the saying “Money makes the world go round,” but now he understood its truth.
Time flew by, and the New Year approached.
The Huaisi collaboration was one of the company’s most important projects this year. They had almost finalized the deal, with only a few minor details remaining.
Pei Songji wanted to conclude the project before the New Year, so interactions with Huaisi increased.
As his personal secretary, Jing Ciying should have accompanied him, but Pei Songji, for some reason, seemed to avoid taking him along.
This time, however, he couldn’t avoid it. Jing Ciying’s presence was essential.
He used to dread business trips with Pei Songji, but since his raise, his perspective had shifted. He felt almost guilty for not working hard enough to justify his salary.
Money truly was a driving force.
He meticulously prepared everything for Pei Songji, from booking flights and hotels to arranging meals and transportation.
By the time he finished, it was almost midnight. He woke up at 6:00 am to prepare coffee and breakfast, then accompanied Pei Songji to their meeting.
Today’s agenda included horseback riding and skiing with their potential partners.
He had learned that negotiations often took place outside of formal settings, during leisure activities.
He made sure everything was perfectly arranged for their enjoyment.
After a morning of activities, they gathered in the tea room for further discussions.
Jing Ciying waited outside.
He expected them to be occupied for hours, but Ji Shuhuai emerged shortly afterwards.
“Mr. Ji, is there anything you need?” Although he was Pei Songji’s secretary, he was always happy to assist a business partner.
“No,” Ji Shuhuai smiled. “I just wanted a cigarette.”
He turned to leave, then paused and turned back. “Would you like one?”
Jing Ciying didn’t smoke regularly, but he had smoked before, years ago, after his sister’s accident.
She had been critically injured, constantly in and out of surgery.
He had developed a fear of operating rooms.
That’s when he started smoking.
It wasn’t a pleasant experience. The smoke filled his lungs, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth, a taste of pain and despair.
But back then, life itself was bitter, so the taste of cigarettes didn’t seem so bad.
After his sister’s condition stabilized, he quit.
Ji Shuhuai’s offer brought back memories, tempting him to try again.
But he was on duty. It seemed inappropriate.
Ji Shuhuai, sensing his hesitation, said, “Just one. Your boss won’t be out for a while.”
Jing Ciying agreed, following him outside.
Ji Shuhuai offered him a cigarette.
It was a white cigarette with English letters on the pack. Pei Songji didn’t smoke, so Jing Ciying wasn’t familiar with brands, but he knew it must be expensive.
Ji Shuhuai lit it for him. He took a puff. It was different from the cheap cigarettes he used to smoke, lacking the harsh, bitter taste.
Or perhaps, his life had become less bitter.
He took a few puffs, then stopped, worried about Pei Songji noticing.
Ji Shuhuai understood. “Xiaoying,” he said, “do you plan to be a secretary forever?”
Jing Ciying was surprised by the question. He looked at him.
“I know a bit about your situation,” Ji Shuhuai continued. “If it’s just about the money, I can offer you a better opportunity.”
“You’re joking,” Jing Ciying said, trying to deflect the unexpected offer.
“I’m serious,” Ji Shuhuai insisted. “You’re well-educated and capable. I admire you. And…” he paused. “We have similar experiences. I want to help you. The salary would be higher than what you’re earning at Pei Group, and you’ll have more flexible hours to care for your sister. Think about it.”
Jing Ciying hadn’t expected him to be serious. He was speechless.
The offer was tempting, but there was no such thing as a free lunch.
And they were friends. Mixing business with friendship could complicate things.
He decided to decline.
Before he could formulate a response, he heard Pei Songji’s voice behind him.
“There’s nothing to think about. He declines.”
