The “graduation ceremony” wrapped up in the morning. After lunch, that afternoon, the management trainees began packing up their things and heading to their respective departments.
This transition didn’t bring much visible “sadness” to Group One. Everyone had already agreed to have dinner together after work, and besides, even though they were splitting up into different departments, they were still colleagues at the same company. It wasn’t like they’d never see each other again—there was nothing to mourn.
He Xiayuan was pretty lucky. When he carried his box of belongings to “transfer bases,” Zhu Xuanmin from HR stayed with him the whole time, personally escorting him to the Business Services department.
Of course, calling it luck alone wasn’t quite right. It was better described as the result of He Xiayuan’s habit of simply doing good things. After the ceremony that morning, he’d given Zhu Xuanmin a small thank-you gift, expressing his gratitude for her help and care during the rotation period.
Zhu Xuanmin was touched and genuinely happy, so she deliberately brought her badge along and rode the elevator with him to the Business Services floor. On the way, she even let slip a bit of insider information—
“Director Yang used to be a vice president, right? Everyone said he stepped down because of his health.”
“But that’s not actually true. It was because of his wife.”
“His wife isn’t in good health. She had a major surgery a couple of years ago and has needed someone with her ever since.”
“Director Yang felt sorry for her and wanted time to be with her, so he took the initiative to step down.”
“He doesn’t really get involved in the company’s other work now. Usually, if a project team needs help, he just goes over to lend a hand.”
…
The elevator arrived at the Business Services floor. Zhu Xuanmin stepped out first and held the doors for He Xiayuan, continuing to talk as they walked together.
“The Business Services office is pretty small. Normally it’s just Director Yang, so they didn’t allocate a big space for him.”
“This floor is mostly offices for the management team from Sip Logistics. They’re usually out and about, hardly ever here, so it’s pretty quiet—very calm.”
“But I’m guessing after a few days, you might feel like it’s a bit too quiet here.”
He Xiayuan looked up. Through the glass doors, he could see the offices inside. Just as Zhu Xuanmin had said, they were basically empty, with hardly anyone around.
A bit farther on, they reached the Business Services department.
How small was it?
Once you passed through a glass door, there was a compact shared office space of maybe five or six dozen square meters. Near the glass door was a single workstation facing east. Not far in front of that desk was a separate office. A metal plaque on the door read: General Manager’s Office.
Walking ahead, Zhu Xuanmin pushed open the glass door for He Xiayuan, peered inside, and muttered, “Huh? Looks like no one’s here.”
He Xiayuan followed her in, set his box down at the only workstation in the entire office, and instinctively glanced toward the office ahead. He asked, “Director Yang’s in there, right?”
Zhu Xuanmin walked toward the office. “Not sure.”
She stopped at the door, raised her hand, and knocked. “Director Yang?”
“Director Yang?” She knocked again. No response.
She gently turned the handle and pushed the door open a crack, peeking inside. There really was no one there.
Closing the door again, she turned back to He Xiayuan. “No one’s here. Director Yang isn’t in.”
He Xiayuan reached out and ran a hand across the desk—no dust. It was quite clean.
Having delivered him, Zhu Xuanmin prepared to leave. “Alright then, you hang out for now and get used to the place. When Director Yang comes back later, you can meet him properly.”
As she headed toward the glass door, she added familiarly, “If anything comes up, just ping me on OA.”
He Xiayuan walked her to the door and pushed the glass door open for her.
She stepped out, turned around, and waved at him. “Bye.”
“Bye,” He Xiayuan replied.
Once she was gone, He Xiayuan returned to his desk and unpacked his personal items from the box, setting them out one by one.
After tidying up, he took a lap around the shared office area. It was basically empty—no other desks at all. Along the west wall there was a row of tall storage cabinets, but those were empty too.
Between the manager’s office and his workstation, there was a counter setup that looked almost like an open kitchen, with overhead cabinets.
He Xiayuan walked over to take a look. On the counter were an electric kettle, cups, and several tea canisters lined up neatly.
He guessed they all belonged to Director Yang—apparently, the man liked tea.
With nothing to do and Director Yang not around, He Xiayuan went to the restroom and then came back to sit down at his computer.
When he powered it on, aside from the OA system, the desktop was completely bare—nothing else on it.
That didn’t surprise him. He’d known before coming that the entire Business Services department consisted of just Director Yang.
Since there was only Director Yang, and he used the computer in his own office, the workstation computer was naturally empty.
In fact, He Xiayuan suspected this desk might have been newly set up.
He logged into OA, plugged in his USB drive, and figured that idle time was still time. He was about to go through the case materials Lu-ge had given him.
Before the document even finished opening, the glass door not far to his side was pushed open.
He Xiayuan looked over and saw a middle-aged man with half his hair silvered, a build neither fat nor thin, and an age that, to He Xiayuan’s eyes, was hard to pin down.
He Xiayuan paused and instinctively stood up. “Director Yang—”
Before he could finish saying Director Yang, the man who had just walked in was already extending a hand to motion him back down while striding over quickly. “He Xiayuan, right? It’s fine, it’s fine—no need to stand. Sit, sit.”
He Xiayuan had no choice but to sit back down.
Yang Yun had already dragged over an empty chair and plopped himself down right next to He Xiayuan.
The moment he sat, Yang Yun fixed his gaze squarely on He Xiayuan’s face.
After staring for a few seconds, Yang Yun silently thought: Wow. So Lu Chen really is something else. Never noticed before—turns out he’s a total looks guy.
This kid’s face was practically a work of art. Absolutely unreal.
After finishing his internal gasp, Yang Yun stopped staring at his face and switched to direct eye contact instead, speaking unhurriedly. “Alright, let me ask you a bit about yourself.”
Because Yang Yun wasn’t playing by the usual rules at all, He Xiayuan’s reaction lagged half a beat. “Oh—okay, Director Yang.”
Yang Yun put on a kindly expression and smiled affably. “How old are you this year, kid? Which school did you graduate from?”
…
After going through a round of questions, Yang Yun had a basic understanding of the new management trainee.
He really was just too curious. And a little—well—
Yang Yun: Ahem. No, no, no.
How could he possibly be gossiping?
At most, he was just a little curious.
Yes. Curious.
That was only human.
Director Yang stood up with a genial smile and headed back to his office.
Right before going in, he deliberately turned his head and asked He Xiayuan, “Want some tea?”
Huh?
He Xiayuan instinctively stood up again.
Yang Yun waved him back down. “Sit, sit.”
“I’m just asking.”
He gestured toward the tea counter. “If you like tea, go make some. It’s fine—drink whatever you want.”
He looked easygoing, completely without airs, the kind of leader whose depth you couldn’t quite read.
Only after the office door closed did He Xiayuan slowly sit back down, a question mark forming silently over his head.
So this was Director Yang.
He found it a little fascinating.
What he didn’t know was that Yang Yun found him fascinating too.
Way too fascinating.
This handsome kid was the one the big boss, Lu Chen, liked.
The moment Yang Yun entered his office, he rubbed his hands together, feeling like this piece of gossip alone could light up his entire semi-retired “career.”
This was explosive.
But precisely because of that, Yang Yun had taken a good, serious look at He Xiayuan the moment they met. Otherwise, given how little he cared about work these days, he probably wouldn’t have paid much attention at first. At best, he’d wait until they interacted more, got familiar, and only then really take a proper look—if the kid proved worthwhile.
But this time was different.
Lu Chen had mentioned He Xiayuan to him directly and made it clear he intended to move the kid up to a project team. Yang Yun’s immediate thought was: A project team? Does this little guy even have the chops for that kind of grind?
Since he’d landed here first, before heading to a project team, he’d better build up some “muscle,” at least enough to be solid and battle-ready.
Yang Yun rarely took a personal interest in anyone. After sitting down at his computer, he pulled up He Xiayuan’s file.
Huh—first place in the management trainee group. Not bad.
Yang Yun was genuinely impressed and kept reading, moving on to the detailed evaluations HR had uploaded about He Xiayuan’s performance in the Suìsuìxīng assessment.
As he stared at the screen, Yang Yun’s eyes gradually narrowed—his habitual expression whenever he was thinking hard and fully focused.
—
Director Yang didn’t come out of his office after that. He Xiayuan wasn’t sure whether any tasks would be assigned to him, but he was perfectly capable of sitting still. He stayed at his desk, quietly reviewing case materials, occasionally glancing at the OA chat groups and replying with a few words.
At 3:30 in the afternoon, someone shared photos of their new department’s afternoon tea in one of the group chats. Others quickly followed suit, posting pictures of their own departments’ snacks.
There was no afternoon tea here. It was only after seeing the messages that He Xiayuan realized it was already 3:30.
After a moment’s thought, he stood up and walked over to the tea counter.
…
Not long after, he knocked on the door of Yang Yun’s office, carrying a tray with hot tea and a cup on it.
“Director Yang, would you like some tea?”
He Xiayuan stood in the doorway.
Yang Yun, seated behind his desk, lifted his gaze from the computer screen. When he saw He Xiayuan—and the tray in his hands—a flicker of surprise appeared in his eyes.
“You made tea?”
Yang Yun was genuinely taken aback.
It wasn’t that he hadn’t dealt with management trainees before. Precisely because he had, he knew how proud they usually were when they first joined the company. Making tea and serving water was the kind of thing they neither knew how to do nor thought to do.
And yet—He Xiayuan had made tea for him.
“Thank you.”
Yang Yun gestured for him to set the tray down on the desk.
He Xiayuan did so, said nothing more, turned around, and quietly closed the office door behind him.
Yang Yun leaned back against his chair, his gaze drifting over the steaming cups of tea. Smiling faintly, he fell into thought.
He seemed to understand now why Lu Chen had taken a liking to this kid.
Good character.
Yang Yun sighed inwardly, full of feeling.
On the computer screen in front of him, a new message popped up. Qiao Sixing had just written to ask how he planned to handle He Xiayuan.
Yang Yun saw it and smiled, eyes narrowing slightly. That word “handle” is very carefully chosen.
As expected of the big boss’s assistant.
Looks like everyone who needed to know already knew.
Yang Yun replied: I’ll deal with it my way.
Qiao Sixing: Take it easy.
Yang Yun shot back playfully: Why don’t you come do it?
After sending the reply, Yang Yun reached for the tray, lifted the teapot, poured himself a cup, and set it beside his keyboard.
He glanced at the small cup of hot tea, unhurried, thoughtful.
It wasn’t strange for Lu Chen to place a young man by his side—liking someone was normal enough.
But sending him not to the executive office, but to a project team—that part warranted deeper thought.
Beyond personal feelings, did Lu Chen also see something in him professionally?
If that was the case, then the question arose—when had Lu Chen started mixing personal feelings with work?
And there was another point. As the big boss, if Lu Chen wanted to send someone somewhere, all it took was a single transfer order.
But the problem was that the project team wasn’t a place just anyone could waltz into. Lu Chen clearly understood that pushing someone in directly would be convenient, but the criticism that would follow would be troublesome. Taking a more roundabout route—transferring someone from the Commercial Services division through Yang Yun—was much easier to justify.
From this, it was obvious that Lu Chen was very protective of He Xiaoyuan. He didn’t want He Xiaoyuan to face gossip or public pressure just for going to work somewhere.
By comparison, Qiao Sixing, who had been transferred up directly back then, had it far “worse.” For several months, rumors spread throughout the company that he’d only climbed his way up because he knew how to latch onto powerful thighs and was shameless enough to do it.
Which brought up yet another question—did He Xiaoyuan himself know all this?
If he didn’t, then how had he ended up in Commercial Services?
But if he did know, that meant He Xiaoyuan knew who Lu Chen really was.
And if he knew who Lu Chen was, he should also understand just how special his own situation was. If he was already that special, would he really take the initiative to brew a pot of tea and personally bring it in?
Yang Yun truly lived up to his background as a senior executive—he thought things through deeply and broadly.
In his view, this He Xiaoyuan was either exceptionally pure and sincere, or extremely shrewd and calculating.
Which led to yet another question—would someone like Lu Chen, when it came to personal feelings, actually like a person who was scheming and full of tricks?
Yang Yun’s answer: of course not.
Reasoning backward from that, this He Xiaoyuan was probably exactly as Yang Yun saw and sensed him to be—relatively simple and genuine.
Which brought yet another question—so did that mean He Xiaoyuan didn’t know about any of Lu Chen’s arrangements, and therefore didn’t know who Lu Chen really was?
And then the question again—what move was Lu Chen making here? He wasn’t young anymore, had a bit of age on him. Surely he wasn’t playing at online romance with some twenty-something kid?
Yang Yun burst out laughing. The small cup of hot tea he’d just lifted nearly spilled as he hurried to bring it to his lips and tipped his head back, downing it in one go.
Fragrant.
The tea—no, the gossip—was fragrant.
He Xiaoyuan…
Then he’d take a good look for himself and see what kind of kid this young man really was.