Chapter 58: Sharing Hardship Together

Yuan Zhong felt that calling herself a victim was a bit much, and as for that so-called draconian clause, she had read the contract—apart from the dates, everything else seemed reasonable. But the other party was a law student, and from what Lin Hui had said, she was the sharpest of the sharp, operating on a completely different level from Yuan Zhong. So, Yuan Zhong chose the wisdom of silence.

They continued eating, dropping the previous topic. Miao Shu, in a good mood, started sharing jokes from class with Yuan Zhong. After listening, Yuan Zhong didn’t show much reaction.

Miao Shu asked, “Wasn’t that funny?”

“It was okay,” Yuan Zhong replied.

“What do you mean, just okay?” Miao Shu was a little dissatisfied. “You must have a high bar for humor.”

“Better than laughing at ‘IV drips’,” Yuan Zhong said, recalling that classic joke, which actually made her smile.

“By the way, didn’t you say classes were boring?” Yuan Zhong asked.

“But not going to class is even more boring,” Miao Shu admitted.

Alright, that topic was best left alone. Yuan Zhong went back to eating in silence.

Miao Shu glanced around, then lowered his voice to ask, “Does your friend Lin Hui have a boyfriend?”

Yuan Zhong shook her head to indicate she didn’t know.

“Aren’t you her best friend? How come you don’t know? You should care about her, ask around a bit.”

Yuan Zhong saw a sly look on Miao Shu’s face and thought, So this is what cunning looks like?

“So, does she or not?” Miao Shu pressed.

“Why are you asking? Planning to pursue her?” Yuan Zhong countered.

Miao Shu waved it off. “Forget it, she’s too cold. I’m not into that type.”

Yuan Zhong said nothing more. She had eaten enough and was about to leave—she wanted to find Lin Hui.

As she was leaving, Miao Shu reminded her, “Just listen to your boss, alright?”

Yuan Zhong nodded.

Miao Shu kept going, “Your boss seems to look out for you…”

Yuan Zhong didn’t want to hear it, waved him off, and walked away.

Sigh, girls these days have no patience, Miao Shu thought. Still, Yuan Zhong had helped him save face, and he appreciated that.

Walking along the campus path, Yuan Zhong felt in high spirits. Checking the time, she figured Lin Hui should still be in the lab.

She stopped by the bakery, picked up Lin Hui’s favorite sandwich, and decided to deliver a late-night snack with a touch of care.

Walking into the lab building filled her with nostalgia; the nights spent working by lamplight were still vividly clear—how quickly time had flown.

On the fourth floor, looking through the glass window, Yuan Zhong saw Lin Hui bent over an instrument, with another person beside her—Zhang Shun.

Seeing their silhouettes, Yuan Zhong’s heart skipped a beat. Maybe it was just because she hadn’t seen them in a while, she told herself.

Zhang Shun seemed to be saying something to Lin Hui. Their shoulders brushed together now and then, looking quite close.

Yuan Zhong felt a pang. Though she had already let go, seeing them together with her own eyes still stung.

Looking down at the sandwich in her hand, she realized it wouldn’t be enough for two. So, Yuan Zhong turned and left.

Back home, she zoned out for a while, silently finished the sandwich, and then went to wash up.

Lying in bed, she couldn’t sleep—she was too full.

“Serves you right!” she muttered to herself. “Who told you to eat someone else’s sandwich?”

She paced around the room, trying to digest. Her phone rang—it was Lin Hui.

“Why didn’t you come?” Lin Hui asked, words a little muffled, as if she was eating.

“Oh, I had dinner with Miao Shu, talked about some things, finished late, so I just went home. Next time,” Yuan Zhong explained.

“Alright, just checking—you’re okay, right?” Lin Hui said.

“I’m fine. What could possibly happen to me?”

“And about Miao Shu—did you see him for something company-related?” Lin Hui asked.

“Yeah, just needed some advice,” Yuan Zhong replied.

“Good. That guy is way too calculating. Stay away from him if you can,” Lin Hui warned.

Calculating? Yuan Zhong hadn’t noticed. “Did he offend you?”

“Not exactly. He keeps trying to ask me out, but I don’t trust his motives,” Lin Hui said.

Yuan Zhong laughed. “He probably just thinks you’re pretty and wants to date you. You’re overthinking.”

“Hmph, if it’s just a simple meal, why make such a fuss? If he has no agenda, why keep insisting? He’s not chasing after me, he just doesn’t want to lose face. Well, I’m not going to give him that.”

From the sound of it, there was some friction between them. Yuan Zhong didn’t know what to say. She was feeling low herself and fell silent.

Lin Hui concluded, “Anyway, don’t get too involved with him, unless it’s for work.”

“Alright,” Yuan Zhong agreed obediently.

After hanging up, Yuan Zhong was even less sleepy. She sat up, warmed a cup of milk, picked up a book, and tried to coax herself into drowsiness.

Just then, a message popped up in the trio’s gaming group. Qi Leyu asked: Are you asleep?

Yuan Zhong picked up her phone, hesitated, but didn’t reply.

Qi Leyu stared at the game screen—she hadn’t logged in for a long time.

Bu Kaopu quickly played dead, pretending to know nothing and see nothing.

The next day, Yuan Zhong could barely get up, but she still arrived at the office five minutes early. For once, Wang Shanshan was already there.

“Xiao Yuan, help me set up coffee and snacks in the meeting room,” Wang Shanshan instructed.

“Okay, when—”

Before she could finish, Wang Shanshan cut her off. “Now.”

“Alright.” Yuan Zhong stood up immediately.

The key to the supply closet was with Chen Yue, who hadn’t arrived yet. Yuan Zhong got started with the coffee first.

Work hours had already begun; Yuan Zhong kept peeking around, waiting for Chen Yue.

Three minutes later, Chen Yue rushed out of the elevator.

Yuan Zhong hurried over and whispered, “The key, the supply closet key. I need to get snacks.”

Chen Yue quickly dug the drawer key from her bag, then handed over the supply closet key. “Which client?”

“My mentor’s guest. I don’t know who it is,” Yuan Zhong said, too busy for gossip, and dashed off.

Chen Yue followed to help.

Once they’d finished setting up, Wang Shanshan led in a man in his early thirties, fashionably dressed, looking around the room with curiosity.

Seeing Yuan Zhong and Chen Yue, Wang Shanshan signaled them to leave quickly.

Outside, Chen Yue eyed the closed door. “That guy’s a stranger—must be his first time here.”

Yuan Zhong hadn’t seen him before, either, but Wang Shanshan was being unusually attentive.

Just then, the editor-in-chief walked over, smiling at them. Yuan Zhong quickly pulled Chen Yue away. Looking back, she saw the editor-in-chief enter the meeting room.

“Who is he, to warrant such attention—even the editor-in-chief showed up,” Chen Yue whispered, still nosy.

Yuan Zhong ignored her. If anything came up, she’d find out soon enough.

Back at her desk, Yuan Zhong unlocked her computer and checked the data. Qi Leyu hadn’t written much, but her updates were steady and her readership was growing—a promising sign.

Soon, Chen Yue came over, her voice low. “Come with me,” she said, face serious.

They slipped into the fire escape. Chen Yue looked around to make sure there were no cameras, then said, “Something’s happened with Qiye.”

Yuan Zhong froze. “What could possibly happen to him?”

“Plagiarism.”

“What!” Yuan Zhong nearly jumped.

“Hush! Keep it down.” Chen Yue quickly grabbed her.

“Where did you hear this rumor? Don’t go around saying that,” Yuan Zhong warned.

“I’m not making it up—I’m a fan! I’d never say that lightly. I heard it from Editor Zhou, just now in the meeting. That man—they say he’s the real author.”

“What did Editor Zhou say? Repeat it,” Yuan Zhong insisted, unable to believe it.

“He said Qiye’s new novel plagiarized someone else’s work. The update speed is slower, and the content’s very similar—the pacing too.”

Yuan Zhong thought of the manuscript she’d seen in Qiye’s study and shook her head. “No way. He didn’t plagiarize. Which story? I want to read it.”

“I don’t believe it either—Qiye’s better looking than that guy, for one. I’ll send you the link in a bit.”

They returned to the office. Yuan Zhong kept urging until she finally got the link. She opened it, read the first three chapters, then five more, and frowned.

The two stories were strikingly similar in plot and even style. Yuan Zhong couldn’t understand—just from reading, why was Qiye accused of plagiarism and not the other way around?

She looked at the other author’s pen name: Jiuxiao. Even the name seemed to mimic Qiye.

Glancing toward the meeting room, the door was still closed. With Wang Shanshan’s attitude earlier, were they planning to sign this new author?

No one could tell who had copied whom, and signing Jiuxiao now might be risky. Clearly, things weren’t as simple as they seemed.

Seeing no one was watching, Yuan Zhong slipped back into the fire escape and called Qi Leyu.

“Hello?” Qi Leyu’s lazy voice answered.

“It’s Yuan Zhong. I have something to tell you.” Yuan Zhong summarized the situation as concisely as she could. “I’ll send you the link soon. I don’t know any other details.”

Qi Leyu’s voice was calm. “Okay, I understand.”

Yuan Zhong was still uneasy. “Are you alright?”

“Of course not. Plagiarism is a real headache,” Qi Leyu replied.

“Well, look, his updates are faster, but that alone doesn’t mean you plagiarized him,” Yuan Zhong tried to reassure her.

“You’re right,” Qi Leyu replied, sounding distracted.

Yuan Zhong was speechless—this really was a case of the emperor being calm while the eunuch panicked. “So, what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. I’ll see how you all want to handle it,” Qi Leyu said.

Yuan Zhong had to suggest, “You should tell Lawyer Miao about this, just in case.”

“Mm, I know. Thank you. You should hang up now,” Qi Leyu said.

“Alright, but don’t forget,” Yuan Zhong reminded her.

“Okay. Oh, right.” Qi Leyu stopped her.

Yuan Zhong jumped. “What is it?”

“The fridge is empty. Could you buy me some more groceries? I’ll send you the money.”

“Now? How can you think about food at a time like this?” Yuan Zhong was exasperated.

“Eating is important, too,” Qi Leyu insisted.

“Eat, eat, eat! There’s food everywhere! Focus, will you? Do you really want your hard-earned story to be wrongfully accused? Are you out of your mind?”

It was rare for Yuan Zhong to let loose like this. Qi Leyu paused—something about this tone sounded familiar.

“Why are you silent now? Aren’t you usually so talkative? Cat got your tongue at the critical moment?” Yuan Zhong pressed. “If you have a trump card, use it! What are you saving it for, interest? If you don’t act now, it’ll be too late!”

Qi Leyu suddenly realized—this nagging pace and phrasing was just like her mentor, Qianjin Zhong.

Well, Master, now I’m being plagiarized, and you’re being imitated too. I guess we’re in this together, master and disciple, weathering misfortune side by side.