Yin Lin was being looked down on. Usually, she played the part of being somewhat willful, giving off a childish vibe. Plus, her previous cooperation with Greenfield to lure out information about the Star Summoning Society had made Jin Luan think she was too gullible, too easy to be led astray.
This led Jin Luan to judge that her PVP capabilities were too weak and she didn’t want her involved in that aspect.
It could also be that PVP was more brutal than PVE, involving things like killing that were hard to accept, and Jin Luan didn’t want Yin Lin involved in that either.
Ultimately, it still came down to Yin Lin looking too young. Her ID card age was considered adult within the “Human Alliance,” but to the naked eye, she always seemed about nine years younger.
This time, Yin Lin didn’t argue back. After thinking it over carefully, she felt she had gone a bit overboard herself.
Using her Magical Girl identity had become so frequent it surpassed the “Song Wuli” identity.
She’d even started using “greater good” to rationalize her actions, becoming just like those superheroes in comics—her own life wasn’t even in order, yet she spent all day worrying about the fate of the world.
Yin Lin didn’t want to judge whether her actions were right or wrong.
She just felt she was on the verge of becoming the very “authentic Magical Girl” she had resisted the most from the beginning.
She continued listening to Jin Luan’s persuasion and finally replied, “I’ll think about it for a while.”
It was a very mature answer, completely opposite to her usual bratty attitude.
That night, back home, after reverting to Old Song’s body, she felt a bit disoriented for a moment.
The perspective felt too high, her heels felt unsteady, her chest felt too light, too free.
Even playing with her phone, she kept pressing the wrong buttons. The thick fingers were a world apart from Yin Lin’s slender, jade-like ones. Typing was a struggle now.
She exchanged a few words with the Supervisor, saying she’d return to work the day after tomorrow. The Supervisor asked about her physical condition. Old Song tried moving around a bit; she was recovering quite well, about seventy to eighty percent, not a big issue.
She habitually raised her right hand, brushing it by her ear, then checked the work group chat before realizing—she was in Song Wuli’s form now, not Yin Lin.
After briefly handling some copywriting, before bed, she couldn’t resist picking up the Silver Phone again, checking the chat in the “Jinyin Hong San Jiemei” group, and casually asked Huang Yi about the Ocean Trade Company situation.
Huang Yi’s reply was simple: Still under interrogation, needs more time.
Song Wuli was preoccupied with too many things, always unable to resist the urge to figure out the growing pile of questions. She began consciously trying to curb this desire.
The next day was her last day off.
She held strong, didn’t look at the Silver Phone again, only used Song Wuli’s phone to handle work matters.
Apparently, her work these past days had been covered by Huang Yijun and Qian Dehao, who were reportedly complaining bitterly. Hearing Old Song was returning to work tomorrow, they said they’d have a good talk with her.
That day, Song Wuli didn’t do anything extra, treating it as finding herself again. She took a walk outside, letting her body gradually readjust.
She didn’t unlock the Silver Phone even once, though her eyes kept drifting towards it.
Watching TV, if she saw any news related to Magical Girls, she immediately changed the channel, deliberately avoiding it.
Another day passed. Due to a shifted sleep schedule, she woke up even earlier, arriving at the company twenty minutes early. The office was empty, not a soul in sight.
A long while later, she finally saw Xiao Liu and Xiao Zhao come in.
“So… Song Team Leader? You’re actually here? We missed you!”
The two came over and gave Song Wuli a warm hug.
Song Wuli was momentarily stunned—what were their names again?
She couldn’t quite remember, but still smiled and hugged them back.
Soon, the newcomers Chang Yong and Chang Kaihuai arrived at the office. They came together, already forming a little clique.
Seeing Old Song, they looked surprised.
“Whoa, Team Leader Song, good morning!”
They also came over to greet her.
Song Wuli felt another wave of confusion—who were they again? She only remembered they were from the Second Wenan Group, recently hired by the company, but their names were forgotten again.
She still responded politely.
Next, Qian Dehao and the Supervisor seemed to be arguing about something as they walked into the office area together. Seeing Old Song, they stopped their dispute and came over to say hello.
Old Qian gave Song Wuli’s body a heavy pat, making her wince—it still hurt a bit when slapped like that.
“Come to my office later,”
the Supervisor said after greeting her, then left.
With two minutes left until work started, Huang Yijun finally arrived, fashionably late. He was running, sweating profusely.
“Was supposed to go out with the Director, barely squeezed out some time, rushed right over to find you,”
Huang Yijun said, spreading his hands, also giving Song Wuli a friendly hug.
After a brief chat, he left, saying he’d be back for lunch together at noon. He genuinely seemed busy.
Song Wuli also officially started work, sitting at her desk looking bewildered: What was my job again?
It took her the entire morning to take back the work from Old Qian and Old Huang.
The project team was recently busy collaborating with an Oscar-Nominated Screenwriter, who loved throwing his weight around. People in the Second Wenan Group had been subtly mocking him in the internal group chat for a long time.
Coincidentally, that afternoon, that person said he wanted to inspect the Wenan Group. Old Song estimated she’d get to meet this annoying fellow.
Looking over the recent copywriting work, she kept frowning, finding quite a few problems.
Under the interference of that Oscar-Nominated Screenwriter, the Wenan Group’s work started revolving around the new plot. The protagonist of Què Yì was gradually being sidelined, just as previously discussed, starting to develop towards a “camera perspective.”
At noon, Song Wuli took printed documents to the cafeteria to eat. Old Qian and Old Huang both came.
“Tell me, you guys agreed to the plot changes like this? The Supervisor didn’t say anything?”
Old Song was even thinking about work during her lunch break.
“Ask me? I don’t care,”
Huang Yijun shrugged it off very cleanly.
He genuinely didn’t care—because he had more important things.
Thinking of his adorable “Master” and “Heavenly Father,” he paid little attention to other external matters. Even now, he was still wearing a T-shirt printed with Yin Lin’s face, looking somewhat pathological.
“Old Qian, what about you? Do you think this project can really move forward?”
Song Wuli wanted to hear a normal person’s opinion.
“I don’t care either,”
Qian Dehao’s attitude was the same.
“I’m just here to get paid and do the job. Why should I worry about so much? I’m waiting to clock out and have fun. By the way, the Supervisor called you to his office this morning. What did you talk about?”
Song Wuli shoveled a few mouthfuls of rice and answered, “Asked about my health, chatted a bit about views on the company. Didn’t talk business.”
“Oh, right, there’s something,”
Huang Yijun suddenly lowered his voice.
“Are you sure the Supervisor didn’t hint at anything?”
Song Wuli thought back.
“He did ask about my views on the Board of Directors and the Director. Is that important?”
Huang Yijun was speechless.
“Old Song, can’t you have a bit of political sense? You think a Supervisor would casually chat with you about the Board and the Director out of boredom?”
Song Wuli was taken aback.
“You mean…”
Qian Dehao and Huang Yijun exchanged a look.
“Are you sure we’re thinking of the same thing?”
Song Wuli was somewhat doubtful.
“I’ll count three, two, one, and we’ll say it together,”
Huang Yijun said.
The three nodded.
“3… 2… 1—”
“Bankruptcy liquidation!”
“The Chairman and the Director are having an affair!”
“The Supervisor is the Chairman’s illegitimate child!”
Song Wuli was speechless.
“No, guys, how are your guesses getting more and more outrageous?”
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