New Media Division—Product Team Three—Xu Ruomeng: “First place gets 400,000? You’re joking, right?”
HR—Graduate Trainee (Team One)—He Xiaoyuan: “It’s real. Just got the notice this morning.”
Even through the screen, He Xiaoyuan could feel Xu Ruomeng’s shock.
Xu Ruomeng: “Forget the entry bonus and big gift package—40,000? Your batch of trainees is insanely lucky!”
She sent a flurry of messages:
“Only first place gets it? Nothing for second or third?”
“40,000! That’s 40,000!”
“Don’t tell me they’ll also say the first place goes straight into some key department, groomed into a senior executive in two years?”
“Do you trainees still need people?”
“Even if it’s just a token position.”
“I’ll volunteer!”
“Hand raised.jpg”
He Xiaoyuan couldn’t help but laugh at her playful messages.
He Xiaoyuan: “Too late, no need for you to worry. Just focus on work.”
Xu Ruomeng: “Crying.jpg”
Xu Ruomeng: “But seriously, Xiaoyuan, if you get that 400,000, wouldn’t that finally let you pay off all your debts?”
He Xiaoyuan stared thoughtfully at the screen, expression settling: “Yes. That’s why I want to fight for it.”
In the back of a smoothly moving business car, Qiao Sixing handed his work tablet to Lu Chen, paused for a moment, then spoke slowly:
“Boss, the 400,000 bonus—is it meant to ease He Xiaoyuan’s financial pressure?”
So far, Qiao Sixing had already investigated three sets of background information related to He Xiaoyuan. He knew exactly what situation He Xiaoyuan was in.
Lu Chen scrolled through the tablet, fingers gliding over the touchscreen, but didn’t answer.
Clearly, privately he wasn’t exactly the “Lu Ge” persona online—or perhaps he was simply not someone naturally warm and approachable.
Qiao Sixing continued, “And the trainee evaluations…”
Lu Chen looked at the tablet, interrupting: “Do you think he won’t get first place?” If judged purely by He Xiaoyuan’s ability.
Qiao Sixing answered seriously: “From what I know, each team has highly capable trainees.”
The implication: it would be difficult.
Lu Chen, without lifting his head: “Don’t worry about it. He’ll go for it himself.”
At lunchtime, the noisy cafeteria buzzed with discussions about the 400,000-yuan bonus.
These people, after all, had fought their way into Siprisi from among thousands; their logic was sharp and reasoning clear:
Individual evaluations determined each trainee’s final placement. Team Three’s competition was meant to motivate everyone. The massive 400,000-yuan reward stirred everyone’s desire to win—but the underlying motive remained unclear. The amount was exorbitant.
“Really strange,” everyone eventually agreed.
“Who cares, a free bonus? Take it.”
“Exactly, hope first place lands in our team.”
“If it falls to us, we split it later?”
“Dream on. First place is earned. You don’t split this kind of prize. Whoever earns it, keeps it.”
“I know, just joking.”
“The bonus itself isn’t the issue; I just worry that later evaluations will send high scorers to good departments, low scorers wherever.”
“Not likely, isn’t placement based on individual suitability? They’d send us to departments where we fit best.”
“Hey, are you competing for this bonus?”
“Of course. We’ve been grinding every day to get high scores anyway.”
“So we become rivals among ourselves?”
“We already are.”
“Oh, right.”
“So, if you get 400,000, how would you spend it?”
…
He Xiaoyuan sat at the far edge with Yuan Miao. Seeing him silent, Yuan Miao nudged him with an elbow, whispering: “Xiaoyuan, what’s your plan?”
He had been quietly thinking while eating. Yuan Miao’s question snapped him back.
Plan?
He turned to him: “Try my best to get it.”
Yuan Miao shrugged casually.
He Xiaoyuan looked at him, slowly asking: “You don’t want it?”
Yuan Miao: “It’s not that. I just think money or bonuses aren’t as important as the department you end up in.”
He Xiaoyuan said nothing.
He knew Yuan Miao was right, but he couldn’t adopt the same carefree attitude.
For him, 400,000 yuan was crucial.
He had already decided: he would do everything to win this bonus.
He would use it to pay off his debts.
That very afternoon, perhaps spurred by the 400,000-yuan incentive, news came from Team Two to Team One: someone in Team Three had leveraged internal connections to get the full evaluation scores for each team member.
Zou Fanping: “No way! Everyone but us has someone behind the scenes?”
Jiang Weiwei calmly replied while working: “We have too. Don’t we have Lu God?”
Yuan Miao swung his leg: “That’s different. Lu God just helps us, at most a support role. He can’t manipulate the evaluation sheets.”
Xin Rui suddenly said: “What if he did? No one asked.”
Everyone fell silent.
Three seconds later, the entire Team One chorused: “Xiaoyuan!”
He Xiaoyuan, sitting at his computer, felt a bit hesitant to ask Lu about this—he already troubled him enough—but privately, he too wanted to know the actual evaluation results.
He Xiaoyuan felt a bit awkward and asked those gathered around him—Yuan Miao, Zou Fanping, and the others—“How should I ask?”
Zou Fanping immediately blurted out, “Just act cute with Lu Ge first.”
He Xiaoyuan: “……”
Looking at him blankly, he added, “Say something useful.”
Yuan Miao lightly tapped Zou Fanping on the head, pushing him aside, and came over to He Xiaoyuan: “This is a bit tricky. Just ask normally. See if Lu God is okay with it. If not, forget it.”
He Xiaoyuan thought for a moment, then looked at the chat screen, hands hovering over the keyboard as everyone else leaned in to watch.
He typed: “Lu Ge, could I trouble you for something?”
After a short pause, a one-second voice message appeared. He Xiaoyuan clicked it, and a deep, magnetic male voice came through the computer speakers: “Hmm.”
Xin Rui grabbed Jiang Weiwei’s arm beside her: the voice was not only incredibly pleasant, but also sounded young!
Just as He Xiaoyuan began typing out his request, Lu Ge sent another voice message. Halfway through typing, He Xiaoyuan clicked it:
Lu: “You want the evaluation sheet?”
Everyone gasped: “Lu God knows this too!?”
Lu: “Graduate Trainee Rotation Evaluation Sheet (Team Three, Overall)”
The room erupted.
He Xiaoyuan, astonished, clicked the file sent by Lu. The spreadsheet opened, confirming the detailed scores. Many colleagues quickly returned to their workstations, reminding He Xiaoyuan to share the sheet in the group chat.
He Xiaoyuan promptly did so, then returned to the chat with Lu Ge.
He typed: “How did you know?”
“Small cat offering incense and kowtowing.jpg”
“Thanks, Lu Ge.”
He plugged in his headphones and put them on.
As soon as they were on, Lu’s voice came through: “I was curious about what I’ve taught you all these days, so I had someone get it from HR.”
He Xiaoyuan: “This kind of thing is just easy to get?”
He quickly switched back to the spreadsheet, found his name, and skimmed his scores: 4/7/8, 5/7/9, 6/7/8/9, 9…
He didn’t bother analyzing if the scores were high or low and switched back to the chat. Lu’s next two voice messages came:
- “Getting it on my end wasn’t hard.”
- “Looking at your scores… others have one score per department, but you—several per department. How many did you have to rewrite? That’s some dedication.” (chuckling)
Returning to the spreadsheet, He Xiaoyuan noticed the slashes between the scores.
He realized that each assignment he submitted had been scored individually, and all scores were recorded.
He was surprised because he hadn’t expected it to be like this. He only wanted HR and supervisors to see his effort, not imagining his work would be so thoroughly recognized.
Across fifty-plus people, only he had multiple scores in a single cell. The extra slashes stretched the cell, making others’ single scores look starkly plain.
Colleagues noticed:
Xiao Yuan! So many scores—did you rewrite every department’s assignment multiple times?”
“Yes, the rewritten ones count too. Look at the online game column; we all rewrote, two scores per person in our team.”
“Xiao Yuan! You really worked hard!”
He Xiaoyuan was both surprised and deeply moved that all his efforts hadn’t gone to waste.
He typed to Lu: “I rewrote them. I just wanted supervisors and HR to see.”
“I thought writing them had no real use; if they saw I wasn’t dumb and was working hard, that would be enough.”
Lu Chen, on the return private flight, saw He Xiaoyuan type “dumb” and could hardly imagine how little confidence this hard-working, almost daily overtime student had to say that. He pressed the voice button and held his phone to his lips:
“You’re not dumb. You’re smart.”
He Xiaoyuan, hearing the praise, typed: “Really? Lu Ge, you’re not just flattering me, right?”
Clicking the voice bubble repeatedly, he felt a bit shy at the direct compliment, ears turning slightly red.
Lu’s next seven-second voice message came: “Flatter you? Of course not. I’d say honey—you are not dumb. In fact and in my mind, you’re the best.”
The low, magnetic tone, gently drawn out, sounded like a lover whispering. He Xiaoyuan quietly tugged off one side of his headphones, rubbing his ear.
He thought: His voice is too good… and he’s not even really flattering me.