In the morning, Song Wuli woke up on time, feeling refreshed.
After a simple wash and tidying up, he grabbed his backpack and walked to the front door.
He waved at the empty sofa and said, โIโm off to work.โ
Leaving home, he walked down the familiar street and boarded the usual crowded bus and subway.
On the packed subway, he took out his phone but grabbed the wrong one at first โ a silver-colored phone.
He casually glanced at the messages.
The milk tea shop manager had sent a message, asking if he wanted to come in today.
Usually, the manager rarely inquired; Song Wuli was always the one to say heโd come, and then the manager would schedule the shifts.
Today seemed a bit odd, so he asked if there was anything special going on.
There really was.
The manager replied.
ใManager: This story is a bit long to explainใ
ใManager: A few days ago, some people came byใ
ใYao Ruoning: Please shorten it to under 100 charactersใ
ใManager: โฆโฆโฆโฆโฆใ
ใManager: [Voice message, 21 seconds]ใ
Song Wuli converted the voice message to text and carefully read the managerโs explanation.
Basically, it said that a few days ago, when Yao Ruoning hadnโt come to work, a Reporter from the TV station had heard about the story of this street and came for an interview.
Besides reporting on the post-disaster reconstruction, they wanted to cover how the streetโs economy was defying the odds and becoming the cityโs recognized secondary cultural district.
Since they were going to report on this street, naturally, they couldnโt miss the key shop that changed everything: the Number 8 Milk Tea Shop and Milk Tea Sister Yao Ruoning, known as Silver Xiaolin.
This shop was one of the main reasons for the streetโs rise, so it was impossible to overlook.
However, Milk Tea Sister Yao Ruoning had been unreachable for many days, and the interview about the Number 8 Milk Tea Shop had been stalled, causing the entire report to remain unpublished.
Today, the TV stationโs Reporter came back to ask again.
So the manager wanted to check if Yao Ruoning would come to work today and do the interview on the side.
Song Wuli thought about it.
He had initially wanted to refuse, not wanting Yao Ruoningโs image to become too famous.
Suddenly, the manager sent another message saying the TV station was offering a generous payment โ an offer impossible to refuse.
ใYao Ruoning: How much?ใ
ใManager: [Voice message, 3 seconds]ใ
โHoly crap,โ Song Wuli immediately agreed.
He listened a few more times to make sure he hadnโt misheard.
It was indeed 70,000 yuan.
He asked the manager for some details, and the more he heard, the more unbelievable it seemed.
The TV station just wanted a brief interview, maybe ten minutes.
She could say whatever she wanted, no script, no tricks.
No need to sell her body or flaunt her assets โ just talking would earn her 70,000 yuan.
This appearance fee was higher than any internet celebrityโs, comparable to a moderately famous Starโs.
Deal!
At the company, the atmosphere was still strange today.
Song Wuli stuck to his own pace, quietly working as usual.
Huang Yijun, however, wasnโt doing well.
Looking at todayโs tasks, he felt he was in trouble.
The work submitted was only about 50% of the usual quality.
The supervisor messaged, asking what was going on โ yesterdayโs progress didnโt add up.
Huang Yijun made some excuses to brush it off.
He was a team leader, sort of middle management.
People in this position donโt create problems; they solve them.
Huang Yijun understood his role clearly.
He couldnโt tell the supervisor that the copywriting team was slacking off.
He believed what he needed to do was fix the problem himself, not push it up to the supervisor.
So today, Huang Yijun sent a group message, calling Group 2 to a meeting.
Since it was during working hours, no one resisted too much.
But everyone knew exactly what this meeting was about.
They exchanged glances and hand signals.
Everyone gathered in the meeting room.
Huang Yijun chaired the meeting, scanning the room.
Several youngsters were coughing, some limped while walking, and the rest were wrapped in bandages or sporting visible plasters.
Not in Silver Xiaolinโs subtle style, but plastered openly on their faces or bodies where it could be clearly seen.
At a glance, it looked like a frontline wartime field hospital.
It became clear what their strategy was.
He opened with a series of statements, saying the teamโs recent progress was slow.
If this continued, Group 2 would never replace the First Group and might even be disbanded.
No one spoke.
Huang Yijun randomly called someone out to explain the slow progress.
That person showed a plaster on their finger and said they had cut their finger cooking at home, which reduced typing efficiency.
Huang Yijun called another.
The second said they had bumped into someone while riding an electric bike and injured their leg, causing persistent pain and distraction.
The third person claimed menstrual pain, making it hard to concentrate.
Huang Yijun, visibly irritated, slammed the table and said, โIf youโre all injured or sick, why donโt you just take sick leave and rest at home?โ
The youngsters replied, โThe company is our home. We donโt want anyone to slack off and cause losses. Even if weโre sick or hurt, we want to keep working.โ
They added that they were learning from the diligent Song Wuli.
Everyone knew these were empty words, and they themselves knew it was all for show.
This way, the higher-ups would know they were unhappy with Song Wuli and that they were united in opposing him.
Dealing with these young people was easy, wasnโt it? Huang Yijun was ready to teach them a lesson.
After the meeting, Huang Yijun kept young Zhao behind and sent everyone else back to work.
โXiao Zhao, our relationship is good, right? Not enemies?โ
โOf course, good brothers,โ Xiao Zhao smoothed over with slick words, putting on a show. โHuang Ge, this really isnโt my fault. They organized this; I was forced. If I didnโt join, Iโd be isolated.โ
Huang Yijun wasnโt fooled and quietly said, โXiao Zhao, hereโs the thing โ the companyโs evaluation will ask me for feedback. Iโll rate each of you, and my evaluation will be considered.โ
Patting Xiao Zhao on the shoulder, Huang Yijun continued, โRight now, everyoneโs progress is roughly the same. Iโm not asking you to betray them, nor am I defending Song Wuli. But since they all arenโt working, I want to remind you: if you do just a little bit more โ not much, just a little more than the others โ at least I can give you a B rating.โ
Xiao Zhao seemed a bit shaken, wiping sweat off his brow. โHuang Ge, isnโt that risky? What if I get found out? How would I survive in the team then?โ
Huang Yijun said, โIโm telling you because weโre close. Youโre not betraying them; just do a tiny bit more than them, just a little. You definitely canโt beat Song Wuli, so just come second to him. You take care of your own business. You get a B rating, keep your job, and still have options. You wonโt get yourself killed. Iโm being pretty generous, right?โ
Xiao Zhao nodded slightly. โThanks, Huang Ge, youโre like a real brother.โ
Huang Yijun nodded and pushed him lightly on the back, signaling the conversation was over. โBy the way, when you leave, call Xiao Liu over. I want to talk about his work yesterday โ he made a mistake.โ
Seeing Xiao Zhao leave satisfied, Huang Yijun grinned slyly.
Thirty-seven years in this business โ could he really be outwitted by these kids?
Next, Huang Yijun talked with Xiao Liu.
Afterward, he deliberately waited in the restroom and caught another young member of Group 2, taking them to a stall to have a private talk.
Then he waited in the corridor and ran into yet another young person, chatting for a while.
He spent the whole day quietly chatting with them.
As for Song Wuli, it was none of his business โ at noon, he went off to explode the rice.