Chapter Forty-Two: Weary at Heart

A person who appears gentle is not necessarily weak at heart; she simply chooses to treat others kindly.

Yuan Zhong’s resilience revealed itself in times of difficulty. When problems arose, she would still consult Wang Shanshan, but she also learned to flexibly seek out resources and assistance from elsewhere.

It was her first time doing this type of work, and lacking experience naturally meant it took more time and effort. Yuan Zhong carefully marked the timing of every task and event, sticking little notes everywhere to keep herself from forgetting. Working overtime became routine, but every time she completed a task and crossed it off with her pen, her mood would lighten and a small sense of accomplishment would bloom.

For this event, a supplier was helping with the planning. Yuan Zhong quickly identified the key points and established close contact with the supplier’s manager, which made the process flow more smoothly.

One evening, while Yuan Zhong was still working late at the office, an unreliable friend messaged her—most likely to invite her to play a game. She hadn’t logged in for over a week. Yuan Zhong didn’t want to put down her work, so she didn’t reply immediately.

After a while, that friend called her via voice chat. Yuan Zhong had no choice but to answer and put him on speaker so she could keep working.

“Princess? Princess?” came his call.

“I hear you, I hear you. What is it? Hurry up, I’m busy. I don’t have time to play games,” Yuan Zhong replied.

“What have you been up to lately? So busy?” he complained.

“You’re busy with your gaming job, I’m busy with a job that’s not gaming. Not much difference, right?” Yuan Zhong took a sip of water.

“But don’t you even have time to log in? The Stingy Guy left you a message in the game. Haven’t you seen it?” he asked.

“No.” These days, she was so exhausted she fell asleep the moment she got home, sleeping straight through till morning. Chewing on a tea leaf, Yuan Zhong added, “Tell him for me, I’ll find him to play in a while.”

She’d had too much coffee today, so now only dared to drink tea, though she’d brewed it too strong and winced at the bitterness.

“When you’re busy, I suffer too,” her friend sighed. “He’s annoyed with me now. You should tell him yourself. Wait, I’ll add Stingy Guy to the call.”

Soon, Yuan Zhong heard the voice of Stingy Guy.

“Hello.” He sounded a bit cautious.

“Sorry, I should have told you,” Yuan Zhong said, setting aside a stack of documents and picking up another. “But the tasks came up so suddenly, I forgot. Did you wait for me? I’m really sorry.”

“He definitely waited. He’s about to become a stone waiting for his master,” the unreliable one chimed in.

“Don’t act dumb,” Stingy Guy cut him off.

Yuan Zhong sensed a hint of menace, as if the unreliable one had just whimpered. She asked, “Are you okay?”

“It’s nothing. The problem is he’s too idle,” Stingy Guy said.

“Alright then.” Yuan Zhong shifted the topic. “Stingy Guy, give me two more weeks. I should be done by then, just in time for the new season. I’ll carry you to King rank again,” she boasted.

“Hmm, I was mainly worried because you suddenly disappeared,” Stingy Guy replied.

For two days, Qile Yu had avoided logging in, but when game time came, he couldn’t help picking up his phone. In the end, he accepted it, thinking he should find a chance to get to know her better.

There was one more thing—he wondered if Princess had asked her roommate yet if she would pursue the person she liked. Qile Yu wanted to ask, but with the unreliable one there, it was inconvenient.

That unreliable guy was always such a pain!

“Don’t worry, nothing’s going on with me. Just the daily grind,” Yuan Zhong said, tapping her mouse.

Qile Yu didn’t know what else to say. Other than in-game, he knew nothing about Princess—her work, which city she was in, nothing. He wanted to ask, but the words wouldn’t come.

He thought of a scene from his own novel—a disciple falling in love with a masked master, not knowing what the master looked like or who she really was, only that her martial skills were unmatched, and so he admired her.

Realizing the irony, Qile Yu cursed himself silently.

The unreliable one couldn’t stand the silence. After all that trouble getting the two together, why was no one talking? Princess was busy, but Stingy Guy, say something!

After another pause, only the sounds of Princess working could be heard on her end. Stingy Guy didn’t even seem to be breathing.

The unreliable one coughed. No response. He tried again. Still nothing. Finally he resorted to a series of loud, deliberate coughs.

“Go take your medicine,” Stingy Guy muttered.

“You don’t need to. It’s just too quiet. I can’t stand it,” the unreliable one said.

Yuan Zhong laughed. “You’ve caught whatever ‘I’m a Pretty Girl’ has.”

Stingy Guy joined in, “Yeah, he’s given up on treatment. Last week you weren’t here, that guy went to the unreliable one’s live stream and disgusted quite a few fans.”

“Say what you want, he’s got a knack for drawing in fans,” the unreliable one said.

“These days, who knows what’s gotten into people. They say they’re disgusted but still flock to him. You know what he’s like—a stick-on bandage, can talk to himself for half an hour even if no one’s listening, and if someone responds it’s even worse,” Stingy Guy said.

“I can imagine. Feels like I missed out,” Yuan Zhong yawned.

Qile Yu heard her and checked the time. “How late are you working tonight?”

“Almost done. Just two more piles,” Yuan Zhong glanced sideways at her desk.

Piles? What kind of work involved “piles”? Qile Yu was tremendously curious.

The unreliable one was on the same wavelength and asked, “Princess, what are you actually doing?”

“The company’s hosting an event. I’m sorting props, little gifts, all kinds of things—a huge pile. I have to organize, count, pack them. They’ll be used at the event,” Yuan Zhong explained briefly.

Qile Yu understood and asked, “Are you handling everything alone? I know you can’t rely on your mentor. Any other colleagues helping?”

“Shhh, keep it down. I’m at work,” Yuan Zhong looked around to make sure no one was there. “Some things the supplier can handle, but some last-minute tasks she gives me, I have to do myself.”

“She doing it on purpose?” the unreliable one asked.

“Shhh, don’t say that! My hands are full, and you’re on speaker,” Yuan Zhong cautioned.

Qile Yu checked the time again. “Alright, you get back to it. We won’t bother you. Ping me in the group when you’re free.”

Today had been a small breakthrough: with the unreliable one’s help, they’d set up a little group chat.

“Alright, just wait for me,” Yuan Zhong said, then hung up.

About an hour later, Yuan Zhong finally finished, stood up to stretch her back, rubbed her neck, took her cup to the break room for a rinse, tidied her desk, and prepared to leave.

Someone coughed deliberately.

Startled, Yuan Zhong turned to see Cong Wenbin from IT standing by his desk, slowly rising and watching her.

Heavens! Someone was still here.

“When did you come back?” Yuan Zhong stammered.

“I never left,” Cong Wenbin replied, taking his cup to the break room.

He was tall and long-legged, covering the distance in a few strides.

“What? No way!” Yuan Zhong followed him. “I checked—your seat was empty.”

“I was sleeping under the desk.”

Unbelievable!

“I didn’t hear anything,” Cong Wenbin said.

Yuan Zhong broke out in a cold sweat.

The two of them stood side by side, washing their cups. The atmosphere felt awkward.

Yuan Zhong racked her brain, trying to remember if she’d said anything she shouldn’t have.

Cong Wenbin finally spoke. “Don’t worry. I won’t say a word.”

“But just now you said you didn’t hear anything,” Yuan Zhong frowned.

Cong Wenbin was even more of a ghost than she was. Unless you needed something from him, you’d barely notice he existed.

“I can say I didn’t hear anything. But, um, could you introduce me to the unreliable one?” Cong Wenbin turned to her.

“Who?” Yuan Zhong didn’t get it.

“The unreliable one—the game streamer. I recognized his voice. You called him by name and mentioned his stream. It has to be him,” Cong Wenbin said earnestly.

Yuan Zhong thought—wow, you were listening closely!

“I’m…” Cong Wenbin patted his chest, not minding the water still on his hands. “I’m his fan.”

“Then go to his stream,” Yuan Zhong replied.

“I watch his streams all the time. I really want to know him, like you guys do. Not just as a fan, but as a friend.”

“We’re just in-game friends,” Yuan Zhong said awkwardly. “I’m not close with him.”

Cong Wenbin looked at her, face full of melancholy.

“Really, not close,” Yuan Zhong nodded. Gosh, this guy looked like a high schooler—inside and out.

Cong Wenbin was silent for three seconds, then said, “How could you lie to someone like me?”

Unbelievable!

“I won’t tell anyone,” Cong Wenbin promised again.

Yuan Zhong frowned. “What do you mean? Are you threatening me? I didn’t say anything bad just now.”

Cong Wenbin frowned too, pondering how to respond.

Yuan Zhong studied him. He really didn’t seem like a bad person, just a little clueless. Out of curiosity, she asked, “What would you not blab about? What secret could you possibly keep for me?”

“Gaming. I won’t tell anyone you play games.”

“What’s the big deal?” Yuan Zhong genuinely didn’t understand. What kind of secret was that?

“You’re a girl, and you play games. You even know a game streamer. You’re a gaming fanatic.”

Yuan Zhong wanted to say she didn’t care, but couldn’t be bothered. She dried her cup and left.

Cong Wenbin followed her all the way out of the company, right into the subway.

“What are you doing?” Yuan Zhong glared. “Stop following me.”

“I’ll walk you home. It’s late.”

She was surprised at this hint of chivalry. “No need, I live close by.”

But Cong Wenbin insisted, trailing her for quite a while.

In the days that followed, Cong Wenbin’s chivalry only increased—he walked Yuan Zhong home every night. Even Chen Yue noticed, looking gossipy. “When did you two start dating?”

Yuan Zhong shook her head vigorously. “Don’t be ridiculous! I’ve been working myself to death lately.”

“So he’s chasing you?” Chen Yue grinned. “I never thought he had it in him.”

Yuan Zhong was exasperated but couldn’t explain that the guy only wanted an introduction to a game streamer.

Just then, Cong Wenbin brought over Yuan Zhong’s package, set it by her feet, and took her cup.

“What are you doing?” Yuan Zhong reached to take it back.

Cong Wenbin said nothing, strode off, and soon returned with a cup of coffee.

“I can’t drink any more coffee today. I’ve already had two cups,” Yuan Zhong frowned.

Without a word, Cong Wenbin left again and came back with a glass of water.

Chen Yue pointed at Yuan Zhong. “You two—”

“It’s just a glass of water,” Yuan Zhong sighed, exhausted.

“No, it’s not just a glass of water. He just poured your coffee into his own cup and is drinking it!” Chen Yue exclaimed.

Yuan Zhong glanced back. Cong Wenbin even nodded at her, squeezing out what he probably thought was a smile.

With a sigh, Yuan Zhong slumped over her desk, craving a moment of peace.