Chapter 32: It Is Easy to Talk When You Are Standing

Cancan’s computer had a malfunction.

The manuscript was lost, the documents wouldn't load, and to make matters worse, there was no backup. Looking at the black screen, Cancan burst into tears. With her supervisor constantly pressing for progress, Cancan went to report the situation.

I waited by the door. I could clearly hear the supervisor’s reprimand from inside.

"What were you doing? How could you not back up such important data? Is this your first day at the company?"

"The deadline is tomorrow, and you’re telling me today that all the files are gone? A whole week’s worth of collective effort has just vanished?"

The supervisor was furious, pacing back and forth in the office. "Tell me, what are we supposed to do now?!"

Cancan sobbed uncontrollably.

I returned to my workstation and saw a group of colleagues gathered around Cancan’s computer, trying to fix it. I don’t know who pressed which key, but the computer actually turned on. However, before anyone could express any joy, we realized the files still wouldn't open. The mood instantly turned gloomy.

A while later, Cancan returned, her eyes red as walnuts. "The supervisor says we all have to work overtime tonight to recreate the drawings."

"What?!"

"That’s impossible!"

"A full week’s workload, and we’re expected to finish it in one day?!"

It was 9:00 AM, and with the deadline at noon the next day, this was a task of hellish proportions. Amidst the laments, Cancan was filled with guilt. She rubbed her eyes, her voice thick with congestion. "I’m sorry, everyone. I’ve dragged you all into this..."

"If I could, I would rather stay and finish it alone, but this work is too much for one person. I’m so sorry!"

She bowed deeply.

No one spoke. Although she was pitiful, the colleagues who had to work overtime were in no mood to comfort her.

I stepped forward. "Complaining isn't going to solve anything. Everyone, let’s just get to work."

"You make it sound so easy. Do you have any idea how long we worked to finish this? Compressing a week’s workload into one day and night is killing us!"

I looked at the woman who had spoken up. "Do you have a better solution?"

The woman stiffened. "You’re not the one doing the work, of course you can afford to make snide remarks. It’s easy to talk when you’re not the one suffering."

"I will help, too." I looked at everyone. "Because right now, we are all in this together."

If one person fails, everyone suffers. Complaining and pointing fingers were useless. The only way out was to give it our all.

Cancan wiped her eyes. "I owe you all a favor for this. As long as you’re willing to help me finish the work, I’ll treat everyone to a meal afterward!"

Everyone exchanged glances. In the silence, someone said, "Forget it, it’s not like Cancan did it on purpose. This was an accident nobody could have foreseen. If we pull together, we can solve it."

"There’s no point in complaining now."

"We’d better just get to work."

"Tina, I remember the initial draft was saved on your computer, right?"

"I have it here!"

With that, everyone immediately got busy. Cancan watched them, moved to tears. I reminded her, "Stop crying and start working with everyone else."

"Okay, thank you." Cancan wiped her tears and joined the ranks of the busy.

As the work progressed, the results were significant, but morale gradually declined. At first, everyone was full of energy, but later, resentment grew deep. Especially when they saw other departments leaving for the day one by one while they remained glued to their screens. Although no one complained, the resentment in the air was almost palpable. It’s no exaggeration to say they all looked like ghosts.

I came back from outside and almost thought I had walked into the wrong room. This wasn't a design department; it was a haunted house.

I carried several bags of food and placed the prepared meals in front of everyone. In no time, they were snatched up. Someone opened a lid, and the aroma of food filled the air.

"Wow, braised pork ribs!"

"Braised pork belly!"

"Stir-fried green beans!"

"My favorite sweet and sour carp!"

Everyone was drooling at the sight of the food. Someone said to me, somewhat awkwardly, "Thanks for bringing us late-night snacks. You’ve gone to a lot of trouble."

I kept one box for myself and gave another to Cancan. "Don't be so formal. Just eat."

"Thank you." The person who spoke was a young man sitting next to me. He was socially anxious and usually acted like a mute robot, never participating in office gossip. I found it quite rare that he spoke at all.

"You're welcome. I brought you guys snacks just so you’d have more energy to work."

The man went silent. Cancan burst out laughing, and soon, everyone else followed suit. I didn’t understand what was so funny, but the atmosphere was much better than the resentment that had filled the room earlier.

After eating, everyone dove back into work. We had assumed we wouldn't finish until noon the next day, if at all, but we had all underestimated ourselves. At 5:00 AM, relying on our excellent memories and years of professional experience, we successfully recreated the lost manuscript.

"We’re done!"

I don't know who let out the exclamation. Everyone collapsed into their chairs, as if their strength had been completely drained.

"We can go home now." I checked the time on my phone. "It’s 4:40 AM. Everyone, hurry home and get some good rest."

Someone let out a howl, and they immediately grabbed their bags and rushed toward the door. The sooner they got home, the more time they had to rest. I had the privilege of witnessing a stampede of monkeys; they had lost all sense of dignity, wishing they could sprout wings to get home faster.

I walked out of the company at a leisurely pace. Why rush? It’s the weekend; no matter what time I get back, I can sleep all day.

Seeing that luxury car parked by the curb, I almost made a sharp turn to avoid it. The car slid silently to my side. The window rolled down, revealing a cold, icy face.

"Can’t see me?"

I pursed my lips. "Is there something you need?"

"Get in the car."

"No, thank you." Once bitten, twice shy; I didn't want anyone to misunderstand our relationship again. A wave of exhaustion hit me, and I was eager to leave.

He reached a long arm out the window and grabbed my bag. I stumbled. "Why are you pulling me? Let go!"

"I told you to get in the car."

Zhou Chenyan probably couldn't be bothered with small talk. He opened the car door and dragged me in by my bag. I wanted to just throw the bag at him, but my phone, wallet, keys, and identification were all inside.

I sat in the car, looking sour.

He was unhappy, too. "Who are you giving that attitude to? If I didn't pick you up at this hour, how were you going to get home? Walk?"

"That’s none of your concern."

Zhou Chenyan laughed—a sarcastic laugh. "You think I want to concern myself with you? Look at yourself right now."

He shoved his phone screen in front of me, reflecting my face. I used to have a bit of baby fat, but after being reborn, I had been under immense stress and gone through so much that I had visibly lost weight. My chin was sharp, making my eyes appear even larger. The youthful softness had vanished, replaced by a colder, more aloof aura.

"Thin as a rail. If anyone saw you, they’d think the Zhou family didn't feed you." He sounded harsh. "I think you’re doing this on purpose to let people misunderstand and smear the Zhou family’s reputation."