Shang Zhitao had thought being Luan Nian's secretary would be exciting. Watching him handle the first client that day, everything had felt easy and pleasant. Watching him handle the second, everything changed.
She didn't quite know how to describe what she felt. She had never seen a client behave the way this one did, more like an adversary than a partner. She told herself she probably just hadn't worked long enough yet to have met every strange character the industry had to offer.
The trouble started when the client said the concept needed "fine-tuning."
Shang Zhitao understood fine-tuning to mean small changes, a different color palette, a shift in tone, that sort of thing. Most people would have understood it the same way. This client didn't mean that at all. What he meant was scrapping the whole thing and starting over. He said it in a slow, Hong Kong-accented drawl. "As for this commercial, we've decided it still needs to be torn down and redone." Her colleague from the Guangzhou office went pale on the spot and shot a look at Luan Nian.
Luan Nian ignored the client entirely. He rested his knuckles on the table and turned to Shang Zhitao instead. "The client wants adjustments made to the project you worked on back in school. What kind of adjustments were those?"
She blinked. The project from school? Then she remembered, during her interview she'd mentioned a project her team had done. He hadn't said a word about it at the time, and she'd assumed he hadn't been listening.
"The client asked us to change the venue decor."
"Did you add anything to the plan?"
"No."
"Did you switch venues?"
"No."
Luan Nian nodded, then turned to her colleague from the Guangzhou office. "Do we have email records confirming each round of approval?"
"We do."
"Bring them out and show Director Qin."
Business ran on trust. What the sample showed here was a client trying to get two rounds of creative work for the price of one, and calling it a redo. The advertising market at the time wasn't nearly as transparent or fair as it should have been, and even a firm like Lingmei still ran into this kind of pressure and bullying from bigger clients.
Her colleague had seen this game before. Without raising his voice or backing down, he laid the old emails on the table. "Here. Every step of this was confirmed in writing."
"So what do you want us to do?" the client said, playing dumb. "We had a meeting last night and everyone suddenly felt something was off."
"I understand your company's taste and priorities have shifted," Luan Nian said. "But a full redo isn't something we can do. I'll have Finance work out the lowest reasonable cost for the sample and refund the rest of the deposit. You're welcome to find someone else." Shang Zhitao thought she'd misheard and looked over at him. Could he really do that? But Luan Nian was serious, already gathering his things. "We'll delete the sample footage. I'll ask Finance to calculate it at the minimum cost and return the balance of the first payment. Let's part as friends." Then he extended his hand toward Director Qin. "Thank you, Director Qin."
Director Qin clearly wasn't used to this kind of firmness, he'd never dealt with a vendor this unyielding before. He looked ready to leave without another word, but because he was a businessman at heart, Luan Nian gave him an opening to save face. So he said, "In that case, let's talk again sometime. I'll be in touch."
"Good." Luan Nian glanced once at his colleague, then turned and walked out. There was nothing hesitant about it.
Shang Zhitao hurried after him, her blood pressure rising with every step. The budget for that commercial had come out of the marketing department, and she'd seen the figure herself just last week. So Luan Nian was willing to walk away from that much money?
He didn't slow down at all, and she had to jog to keep pace. They came out onto the street, hot and thick with humidity, this being Guangzhou. Confusion was written all over Shang Zhitao's face.
"If you don't understand something, ask." Luan Nian couldn't stand people sitting on their questions.
"So we're just... not working with them anymore?"
"Mm."
"We just... lost the account?"
"Mm."
She waited for more. None came.
Luan Nian nodded toward the road. "Don't you like taxis? Go flag one down." Then he stepped back into the shade between two buildings, leaving her to work through her own questions. The girl had no capacity for scheming, every thought she had showed plainly on her face, foolish in some ways, but refreshingly direct.
When it came to client relationships, maintaining a partnership mattered. But Luan Nian had never been close with this particular client to begin with, and in a situation like this, the smart move was to walk away cleanly and let the local staff handle the follow-up, playing both sides of the table to smooth things over. Combine hard and soft, and the problem solved itself. Otherwise, the client would end up leading them by the nose. Shang Zhitao would understand all this eventually. Luan Nian had simply chosen not to explain it to her on the spot, thinking it might be more fun to let her stew a little.
The way Shang Zhitao stood while flagging down a cab had none of the loose, casual ease of modern people. She was barely in her twenties, with a young face, but the way she walked, sat, and stood carried an unusual poise, a little out of step with the times she lived in.
Luan Nian remembered her stamping her foot at the crowded airport once, eyes red, insisting, "I'm not leaving!" If she got that worked up again, there would be no talking sense into her.
They got into the cab Shang Zhitao had hailed and headed to a dinner. She still couldn't work it out. He'd let go of a large sum of money without a fight, did he actually not want it, or did he? After sneaking several glances at him, she finally couldn't hold back. "Do you actually want it?"
"You're only asking because you feel sorry for me." Luan Nian tossed the sentence at her, then leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes. Shang Zhitao studied him, curious, her gaze landing on the slight tilt of his jaw, and her face went warm without warning.
Her thoughts drifted somewhere they shouldn't have.
There was no real reason for it.
Maybe it was the Guangzhou heat, or some shift in her surroundings, but she'd started having improper thoughts about the boss who lectured her nearly every day. She decided this was normal enough, everyone had the occasional inappropriate thought. She'd already worked out a defense for herself, in case she was ever put on trial for having improper thoughts about her boss, though she suspected that defense wouldn't hold up under questioning.
The dinner was held along the Pearl River, and through the window she could see the slim curve of the Canton Tower, the building locals liked to call "the Little Waist."
"And what should I call this lovely woman?" Zhou Yuchi had noticed Shang Zhitao sitting quietly, so unlike the other Lingmei employees, and asked her directly.
"Shang Zhitao. You can just call me Flora." She answered politely.
"Miss Shang has such a clean, gentle bearing," Zhou Yuchi said, quite seriously.
Her face went red again. At a dinner like this one, the flush stood out sharply, like a single red plum blossom against snow.
More than one man glanced her way. Luan Nian looked over as well, his eyes catching the pink at the tips of her ears.
"Miss Shang, some red wine?" Zhou Yuchi asked again.
"I'm sorry, I don't drink."
"Just a small sip?" He kept pressing. It was the usual pattern at these dinners, women who claimed they couldn't drink almost always gave in after the first taste and rarely stopped at just one.
Shang Zhitao had never been in a situation like this before and didn't know how to say no without offending anyone.
"She really can't drink tonight," Luan Nian said suddenly. "She's writing up a report for me afterward." Then he turned to her. "Flora, stay sober, I need that report sent tonight."
Cheng Yihang, the sales director the clients called Apollo, exchanged a look with Luan Nian, the kind of look men share when deciding to spare a woman from being put on the spot.
Calmly, Luan Nian picked up his phone and typed out a message. "If she gets made a fool of because you kept pushing drinks on her, don't blame me for pulling the account."
Apollo had worked with Luan Nian long enough to read the meaning behind that instantly, and he raised his glass to Zhou Yuchi. "Flora's got real work waiting for her. Let's drink, gentlemen."
The rest of the table drank happily on. Shang Zhitao sat quietly beside Luan Nian and watched him work through his glass. His tolerance was impressive, he could put away more than half a catty of liquor without his expression changing at all. But he barely touched the food while he drank, sipping seriously as though tasting fine wine, occasionally taking a spoonful of hot soup between glasses.
She found herself captivated by his profile, though she didn't dare look too long. She didn't need to look for long. She'd already memorized it completely.
The conversation at the table wandered everywhere, military affairs, politics, history, philosophy, whatever came to mind. Luan Nian didn't say much, but he clearly followed everything, and when he did offer an opinion, it usually landed exactly where it needed to. Now and then he rested his hands on the table, long fingers, nails clean and evenly trimmed, a faint blue vein tracing along the back of his hand. A composed man of twenty-eight, immaculate, sharp featured, and handsome. Try as she might, Shang Zhitao couldn't shake her improper thoughts about him.
As the drinking went on, the talk turned to women. No matter how accomplished a man was, he seemed to need to talk about women once he'd had enough to drink, as if his dignity couldn't stand on its own without it.
When the subject came up, Luan Nian rarely said a word.
He thought it was vulgar.
He was the kind of man who could trade a mild joke or two with close friends, but only mild ones, nothing beyond that. The off-color jokes being traded around the table tonight were exactly the kind of thing he had no interest in either telling or hearing.
Apollo had had a bit too much by then. He and Zhou Yuchi got onto the subject of rare treasures, each claiming years of hard-won experience, and eventually landed on the conclusion that "everyone has their own particular strengths." Shang Zhitao didn't follow the meaning, but she could tell from their expressions that it wasn't anything decent.
Luan Nian listened for a while, then stood and stepped out. Three minutes later he pushed the door back open, phone still pressed to his ear, and gave the table an apologetic smile. Then he waved Shang Zhitao over. "Flora, come take this call."
Relief washed over her as she got up and followed him out. Once outside, Luan Nian handed her his phone. "You don't have to answer if it rings, and you don't have to reply if a message comes in."
She stood there a moment before it clicked, he'd been pulling her out of an uncomfortable situation. A small wave of gratitude rose in her. She'd always thought of him as cold and distant, but underneath it, his heart wasn't bad at all. He could be sharp with people, especially with her, but somehow he never stopped acting like her mentor.