With so many people crowding the area, it was becoming a bit much. Jiang PD decided to simply send the photo to their internal group chat so everyone could see it. Once they received the notification, the group began to disperse, chatting about the picture as they headed back.
"Your expression in this is killing me!"
"Why is my forehead so shiny? No way... am I going bald?"
"Look at this old man. He looks so energetic, you’d never guess he’s already twenty-seven."
...
Before long, only four people remained in the hallway: Zhang Jing’an, Zhang Qingyue, Jiang Siyang, and Jiu Chang.
Jiu Chang was still there because he was busy replying to messages in the group. When he finally looked up, he saw the other three still standing there, all staring at their phones. He asked curiously, "Why are you three still here? Not going back?"
Jiang Siyang looked up and told him, "I’m sending the photo."
Jiu Chang turned to Zhang Jing’an. "And you, Big Brother?"
Zhang Jing’an also looked up. "I’m waiting for the photo."
Jiu Chang: "..."
Jiu Chang then turned to Zhang Qingyue, the only one with her head still down. "Then, Big Sister, you..."
Before he could finish, Zhang Qingyue looked up and smiled at him. "I’m looking at the photo on his phone."
Jiu Chang was momentarily speechless. "...Good grief, are you three Russian nesting dolls? Fine, I’m heading back first..." With that, Jiu Chang took his leave.
Jiang Siyang checked with Zhang Jing’an to make sure the file had gone through. "Did you get it?"
"Yeah," Zhang Jing’an nodded, opening the photo to show him. "Got it. Thanks."
"As long as you have it. I’ll be going then." Jiang Siyang said his goodbyes to Zhang Jing’an and then gave a small nod to Zhang Qingyue. "I’m heading out."
Zhang Qingyue returned the nod. "Goodbye."
Now that Jiang Siyang was gone, only the two of them remained. Zhang Qingyue wasn't sure what Zhang Jing’an was looking at; he kept staring at his phone without moving. Just as she was about to ask, he finally raised his head.
"The photo actually turned out alright," Zhang Jing’an said, handing the phone to her.
Zhang Qingyue arched an eyebrow and took the phone, teasing him, "What were you looking at so intently?"
Zhang Jing’an shrugged. "Checking to see if I’m going bald."
Zhang Qingyue held the phone, using her thumb and forefinger to zoom in on her section of the screen. She clicked her tongue. "Actually, now that you mention it, I do look a bit thin on top."
Zhang Jing’an chuckled and glanced at her forehead. "Looks the same to me."
Zhang Qingyue huffed. "Work makes one go bald."
"Been busy lately?"
"Not exactly. I’ve just run into some frustrating things again." Zhang Qingyue took another look before handing the phone back to him. "Information travels fast these days. You know what I mean."
She left the thought unfinished, but Zhang Jing’an understood perfectly. He slipped the phone back into his pocket. "People are talking about *that* again?"
In the Zhang household, their parents had raised them with the philosophy of "granting a certain degree of freedom and privacy." Consequently, the three siblings rarely discussed the specifics of their work. Even the most talkative one, Zhang Shuyu, only shared things like which concerts she’d attended; she never spoke about her medical studies, and the others never pried.
However, because Zhang Qingyue’s career path was somewhat unique, the family kept a bit of an eye on it. Although Zhang Jing’an hadn't been home in a long time, thanks to Zhang Shuyu—the family’s resident gossip expert—he knew a fair amount about Qingyue’s current situation.
Through one of Shuyu’s video calls, complete with her characteristic dramatic flair, Jing’an had learned that rumors had been swirling long before Qingyue even arrived at the hotel. They were all the usual nonsense: "Zhang Qingyue is coming to take over the CEO’s position" or "She’s here to inherit the family empire." Later, when those rumors finally died down and everyone had braced themselves for her to step in as the General Manager—or at least a Vice President—she shocked everyone by starting as a floor supervisor. The gossip flared up all over again. It had practically become an annual tradition whenever new interns arrived: "Zhang Qingyue is the Chairman’s daughter but she’s just a supervisor. Why isn't she the CEO? I wonder what drama is coming next, how exciting."
When Shuyu reached that part of the story, she had practically spat at the screen in indignation. "...I mean, seriously! Have these people read too many web novels? If it were that easy to be a CEO, I would’ve done it ages ago. CEO in the morning, doctor in the afternoon—how cool would that be? I’d be a regular Long Aotian."
Jing’an had teased her then: "Have you asked Mom and Dad about changing your last name to Long?"
While Shuyu’s retelling was funny, the reality was quite frustrating.
Some people had a fixed stereotype in their minds: if the parents were successful, it was only natural for the children to be "outstanding." No one saw the effort they put in to earn that adjective. Zhang Jing’an was relatively lucky; he had known since he was a child that he wanted to be an actor. With a clear goal, his academic pressure hadn't been as intense. Since he went into acting, the mantle of "inheriting the family business" fell onto Zhang Qingyue. She had risen to the challenge, excelling in everything. To outsiders, because their family was wealthy, her intelligence was taken for granted.
He hadn't expected that after several years, these rumors would still be circulating.
"Yeah," Zhang Qingyue nodded, letting out a weary sigh. "And we had two rounds of interns this year."
"So the rumors went around twice?"
Zhang Qingyue shook her head, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "That’s nothing. I’m used to that kind of gossip. As long as they say it behind my back, I pretend I don't hear it."
Zhang Jing’an remarked, "Now I’m curious. If you’re that broad-minded, what could possibly get under your skin?"
Zhang Qingyue sighed again. "An intern probably forgot to block me from her posts. I was scrolling through my Moments and saw her talking about me."
"And then?" Jing’an asked.
"I finished reading it and found several typos," Zhang Qingyue replied.
Zhang Jing’an laughed. "Don't tell me the 'frustrating thing' was that you couldn't correct her spelling?"
"I’m not that bored." Zhang Qingyue smiled slightly, finding the absurdity of it funny herself, but her expression soon returned to its usual stoic mask. "What actually made me angry were the last few lines she wrote."
"What did she say?"
"Just stuff like, 'No wonder she’s so capable. This just goes to show how important it is to have a rich family; the path to the future is already paved for you...'"
Zhang Jing’an sighed inwardly. People like that never understood a simple truth. Everyone is born as a blank slate. Even a genius can become a "wasted prodigy" like the boy in *Lamenting Zhongyong*. How much knowledge one stores and how much substance one possesses depends entirely on one's own self-discipline and attitude. Environment is just one factor, not the whole story.
Zhang Jing’an clicked his tongue. "Attributing all of someone else's hard work to 'natural privilege' is incredibly irresponsible."
Zhang Qingyue frowned. "If I hadn't seen it, it would’ve been fine. But seeing it... it just left a bad taste in my mouth. It’s a tricky situation. If she were just some stranger, I could have argued with her directly. But the problem is..."
"You’re colleagues," Jing’an finished for her.
"Exactly. That’s what’s so annoying. I can't blow up at her, but hearing those words makes me feel miserable." Zhang Qingyue gestured vaguely over her chest, taking a deep breath. "It’s just... this feeling of being stifled by anger with nowhere for it to go. Do you get it?"
Even though Zhang Jing’an didn't work in a corporate office, he understood the pressure she was under.
The waters of the corporate world were no shallower than those of the entertainment industry. Moreover, since Zhang Qingyue’s goal was to keep climbing the ladder, there were things she simply couldn't say. No matter how wronged she felt, speaking out would do more harm than good.
Zhang Jing’an nodded. "I get it. I’ve dealt with it too. The comments on several marketing accounts are exactly like that."
Zhang Qingyue looked at him. "That’s why I wanted to ask—how do you handle it when you see news like that?"
"I just don't look," Zhang Jing’an said.
"And if you *do* see it?" she pressed.
Zhang Jing’an stopped joking and thought about it seriously. "I find something else to do. I watch some funny videos or something, and after a while, I forget about it."
"...That is so like you. I don't think that method will work for me." Zhang Qingyue stretched her neck, her voice sounding a bit lighter. "But talking to you and venting it all out has made me feel a lot better."
Zhang Jing’an smiled. "Let’s stop talking about them. Let’s talk about you."
"Me? What’s there to talk about?" Even as she said it, she took a moment to reflect. "Overall, things are going as expected. Work is smooth. The first half of the year was busy, but manageable. My superiors have been looking out for me; they’ve even brought me along to the group headquarters a few times, so I’ve learned quite a bit. Oh, guess who else I saw?"
Zhang Jing’an replied calmly, "Uncle Tan."
"Not bad." Zhang Qingyue was surprised. "How did you know?"
"I went to see him yesterday," Jing’an said. "Time really flies. His daughter is already in high school."
"Yeah, time really does fly," Zhang Qingyue sighed. "Actually, Brother... I really envy you and Shuyu."
Zhang Jing’an laughed. "What does a top student like you have to envy about us? Our gaming skills?"
Zhang Qingyue sighed. "I actually *do* envy that you two can play games. Compared to you two, I feel like I’m really... useless."
The smile gradually faded from Zhang Jing’an’s face.
Perhaps because she was with family and didn't feel the need to maintain her guard, Zhang Qingyue’s usual overbearing aura had vanished. Now, Jing’an could sense a trace of helplessness in her. He had never seen her look like this; in his memory, Zhang Qingyue was always the picture of confidence. He wondered what kind of struggle could have brought her to this point.
***
