He Xiaoyuan had thought about it many times before—once he was working, earning money, his debts paid off, and financial pressure gone, what would he do on weekends when he wasn’t working?
Clean the apartment, prep some meals? Grab dinner or go shopping with Xu Ruomeng?
Or maybe take on a side job to save up for a house?
Or make friends, see exhibitions, go places he’d never been before, try things he’d never had time for, relax and unwind?
Who could have imagined that when that day actually came, he’d be spending it reading materials—at Brother Lu’s place, no less.
Early that morning, Lu Chen personally drove over to the dorm building to pick him up.
They went grocery shopping first, then headed back to Lu Chen’s place at Yanlan Bay. Once there, they cooked together. Afterward, with plenty of time left, He Xiaoyuan opened his laptop and sat at the dining table to keep reading.
By lunchtime, they ate, cleaned up, and after everything was put away, they chatted for a bit. Lu Chen made coffee, and He Xiaoyuan continued reading on his laptop, just moving from the dining table to the living room.
He Xiaoyuan was always self-aware and polite, so at first he set his laptop on the coffee table and sat cross-legged on the rug beside it.
As time went on, when he needed to shift positions, he moved to sit by the sofa, laptop on his legs. Then he’d shift again, legs tucked up on the sofa, laptop still balanced on his thighs. But no matter what, he never sprawled out as if it were his own place, doing whatever felt most comfortable, and he never acted overly familiar.
Lu Chen noticed. He didn’t say anything or interrupt. He simply set the coffee down lightly on the coffee table and sat on the other end of the sofa, scrolling through his phone.
Time slipped by quietly. The sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows gradually changed its angle as it fell across the room.
At one point, Lu Chen lifted his gaze from the sofa and clearly saw the young man sitting on the other end, hugging his laptop, completely absorbed in what he was reading.
Even though there was no conversation and the surroundings were utterly silent, Lu Chen could feel it: knowing He Xiaoyuan was there, a subtle, almost tangible sense of satisfaction and fulfillment slowly coursed through him.
Lu Chen realized it was his emotions being nourished, and while he found the strange sensation fascinating, he also wished this “feeding” could last longer.
So his gaze toward the young man became more direct and longer-lasting. He even shifted his posture slightly to watch more comfortably, ignoring his phone entirely.
He Xiaoyuan was deeply absorbed in the materials, unaware of Lu Chen’s attention. When he finally looked up, it was because he had finished scanning a long section and instinctively straightened his back, took a deep breath, and relaxed for a moment—unknowingly locking eyes with Lu Chen.
“?”
What’s up?
He Xiaoyuan thought Lu Chen must be looking at him for some reason, his eyes reflecting a trace of confusion.
Lu Chen rested his elbow on the sofa arm, hand against his chin, tilting his head lazily, gaze unflinching, and said, “Nothing. Bored… just looking. You keep going.”
Oh.
He Xiaoyuan withdrew his gaze and continued reading, glancing casually at Lu Chen, assuming he was simply scrolling on his phone out of boredom.
Look, just casually looking.
But Lu Chen’s prolonged attention let him notice small details.
For instance, he could tell when He Xiaoyuan was reading thoughtfully versus when he was struggling to understand—subtle differences in expression and eye movement. When focused, his gaze was calm, eyes moving quickly over the text. When uncertain, he’d frown, press his lips together, slow down his scanning, sometimes whispering or exhaling deeply.
Lu Chen found this utterly fascinating.
Impulsively, he lifted his phone, opened the camera, and snapped several photos of the young man from an angle.
“Click, click.”
The shutter sound drew He Xiaoyuan’s attention.
Lu Chen immediately realized he had forgotten to mute it, but showed no embarrassment. He just took the photos, then lowered his phone to check them, ignoring He Xiaoyuan entirely.
He Xiaoyuan, puzzled, glanced a few times, saw Lu Chen looking at the phone with no reaction, and quietly returned to his work.
Lu Chen zoomed in on the photos, studying the handsome boy in detail. As he looked, a small smile appeared on his lips. In this quiet moment, he remembered: it was precisely this face that had caught his attention unexpectedly back then—what had led him step by step to this day.
He chuckled quietly at himself, acknowledging he, too, could not resist appearances.
Yet he didn’t feel shallow. He knew well enough that if it were just a pretty face, he wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of luring someone to his place on a weekend.
Meanwhile, He Xiaoyuan was pushing himself to the limit, eyes straining over long blocks of text, his mind racing as if powered by invisible wheels, feeling only one command: Go!
Hours passed. The sun was nearly setting. He Xiaoyuan, exhausted, set the laptop on the coffee table and stretched out on the sofa, silently “recharging.”
Lu Chen moved closer, suggesting in a calm tone, “Let’s eat something, rest a bit, then continue tonight?”
He added, “Tomorrow, no need to go back and forth to the office—it’s closer to my place anyway.”
Ah?
He Xiaoyuan looked up, surprised, the expression on his face saying, You mean… stay over? Inside, he thought: Is Brother Lu really this hospitable?
The new week started. He Xiaoyuan was busy—either reading materials or en route to read them.
This was different from the previous batch of materials Lu Chen had given him. Yang Yun now demanded deadlines: these materials must be finished by a certain time, and there would be a test.
Yes—a test. Questions would be asked.
Answer correctly, and Yang Yun might just nod with a quiet, “Hmm.”
Answer incorrectly, and the previous warm, smiling expression would vanish. He’d raise an eyebrow, lips neutral, and ask, If you can’t even handle this, how will you survive in the project team?
He Xiaoyuan felt Yang Yun’s sudden sternness and the accompanying pressure, and obediently threw himself into his work, scanning materials at a furious pace.
Now he went to the cafeteria early not out of boredom but to save time.
When he ran into Qin Chengfei by chance, he didn’t have time for small talk. He ate while reviewing his phone.
Qin Chengfei, curious, asked what he was looking at. Hearing it was past project materials, he wanted to see them too.
He Xiaoyuan shared a few files previously given during his rotation, ones everyone had already seen.
Qin Chengfei then followed along, reviewing while eating.
As He Xiaoyuan glanced at Qin Chengfei, he noticed something: Qin’s scrolling was lightning-fast—look, scroll, look, scroll—barely pausing.
He Xiaoyuan was surprised. “You read this fast?”
Qin Chengfei, flipping through the materials, said, “Yeah.”
He Xiaoyuan guessed. “Speed reading?”
Qin Chengfei, calmly: “Something like that.”
“….”
He Xiaoyuan: “You don’t have photographic memory too, do you?”
Qin Chengfei: “Nope.”
He Xiaoyuan relaxed slightly—but not completely—until Qin added: “Usually takes two or three passes to remember everything.”
He Xiaoyuan: “….”
Realizing this and recalling Yang Yun’s sudden sternness with the remark, If you can’t even handle this, how will you survive in the project team?, He Xiaoyuan knew there was no choice but to double down. There was simply no escaping the grind.
Nonstop reading, nonstop materials.
Monday, Tuesday… Wednesday, Thursday, Friday…
Even Saturday, he didn’t go to Brother Lu’s place anymore. Instead, he stayed in the department, sitting at his workstation—more efficient that way.
The strange thing? When he came, Lu Chen also showed up, just like before, sitting beside him, legs crossed, scrolling on his phone.
He Xiaoyuan asked if Lu Chen had other things to do, suggesting he go handle them. “I don’t have anything. You go ahead; it’s just that there’s a lot to get through.”
Lu Chen’s response was casual: “I’m free. Go ahead and read. Ask if you don’t understand.”
He Xiaoyuan: ?
He couldn’t help thinking: him working overtime with Lu Chen sitting there—this feels… like something.
Like what?
He Xiaoyuan didn’t know. Better not think too much, just focus on the materials.
Still, as he read, a thought crept in: isn’t this… like Lu Chen is deliberately keeping an eye on him?
?
Watching over him?
He Xiaoyuan glanced at Lu Chen, who was sitting calmly, and suspected he was overthinking.
He figured Lu Chen probably just happened to be free and thought, Since he doesn’t know much yet, might as well guide him.
Watching over him? He Xiaoyuan smirked inwardly. He’s not gold, and Lu Chen’s not a dragon—why would he “guard” him?
Shaking off the wandering thoughts, he refocused on the screen and continued working.
And yet, the following weekend, the same thing happened—He Xiaoyuan in the department, Lu Chen beside him. Another week later, the same.
He Xiaoyuan couldn’t help but think about it.
Lu Chen, steady as ever, explained: “Yang Yun thinks you’re too inexperienced, don’t know enough, so he won’t let you go straight to the project team. You need to pass him first.”
Oh (⊙o⊙)!
He Xiaoyuan finally understood: Lu Chen, fearing that if he failed Yang Yun and couldn’t join the project team, it would reflect poorly on him, decided to stay and help, like pre-exam last-minute tutoring.
Got it, got it.
He turned back to the computer, absorbed in materials.
Lu Chen glanced over: too easy to please.
Finally, the day came when Yang Yun called He Xiaoyuan into his office. Across the desk, leaning back in his chair, Yang Yun looked serious. “Tell me—how can short-video platforms ensure their review system is both accurate and effective, without unfairly penalizing content?”
…
That afternoon, Qin Chengfei was idly scrolling on his laptop when a man with silver-streaked hair and vibrant energy pushed open the glass door, striding in efficiently.
Qin Chengfei thought: isn’t that Yang Yun from He Xiaoyuan’s department? His gaze shifted, and he noticed the handsome young man following right behind.
He Xiaoyuan?
Qin Chengfei was surprised.
Yang Yun walked briskly, motioning for He Xiaoyuan to follow. “Starting today, your office will be here in the project team.”
His tone had a hint of swagger: “Remember—if anyone asks, you’re my person, from business services.”
“Work hard if there’s work. If not, you can relax a little.”
“If you don’t understand something, ask. If there’s a problem, tell me.”
“If it’s unsolvable, I’ll handle it.”
“Got it?”
He Xiaoyuan followed smoothly, composed: “Understood, Yang Yun.”
Yang Yun hesitated for a moment, looking at the crisscrossed cubicles before him, recalling where the “big wolf” had arranged the “little lamb.”
Oh, right. There.
He walked straight to Qin Chengfei’s area.
Qin Chengfei: ?
Up close, Yang Yun gestured to an empty seat to He Xiaoyuan’s left. “Sit here.”
“Okay,” He Xiaoyuan replied.
Yang Yun glanced at Qin Chengfei, hands in pockets: “Alright, that’s it. Move into the office yourself.”
Before leaving, he added: “I’m rarely here. Call me if you need anything.”
With that, the energetic Yang Yun left, leaving He Xiaoyuan at his familiar new workstation, beside a puzzled Qin Chengfei, while a few others in nearly empty cubicles craned their necks to watch.
“You’ve been transferred?”
Qin Chengfei was surprised. He had expected He Xiaoyuan to join only when the project team needed extra hands, but here he was already.
“Mm.”
He Xiaoyuan surveyed the new workstation, sat down, then looked at Qin Chengfei’s spot: “You sit here?”
“Mm.”
Coincidence—or fate—they ended up together.
He Xiaoyuan curiously scanned the surroundings—no different from other floors, the office space neither too big nor too small. Counting cubicles, roughly thirty in total.
He guessed this included department admin and assistants. For core project team members like Qin Chengfei, maybe a dozen or so.
No sign of Lu Chen. He must be busy or in his own office.
Noticing the absence of a private office, He Xiaoyuan assumed it might be elsewhere.
At that moment, a few colleagues came over, curious about the striking new arrival. Learning he was transferred from Yang Yun’s business service team, a man and a woman both exclaimed: “Yang Yun’s team has more than just him now?”
He Xiaoyuan smiled politely, exchanged greetings, and started chatting with them.
Soon, his tall, handsome presence drew attention. The two girls leaning over gawked, while others peeked or came closer to see what was happening. Within no time, He Xiaoyuan was surrounded, everyone chattering, gossiping.
Qin Chengfei watched, astonished. He knew He Xiaoyuan was good-looking, and understood handsome people naturally gained advantages in life. But this was the first time he experienced, up close, the sheer convenience “good looks” could bring.
Almost as soon as He Xiaoyuan arrived, he drew the attention of nearly everyone present in the office. People immediately crowded around, asking questions here and there.
He Xiaoyuan, perhaps used to this, handled it with ease, chatting smoothly and politely.
Some pulled out their phones to add him on WeChat, and he politely obliged.
As the conversation continued, He Xiaoyuan even took the lead, asking about the project team office—curious why it seemed so empty, whether the leaders’ offices were elsewhere.
Someone quickly explained: some were out on business, others simply resting if nothing urgent came up. Unlike other departments, the project team could be extremely busy, so when things were slow, the bosses would take breaks.
“And there’s no separate office for leaders,” someone added. “The bosses just sit in the cubicles with us.”
Qin Chengfei, observing silently, was impressed. He had spent a week or two slowly figuring this out himself, yet He Xiaoyuan understood it immediately. No wonder HR had told him to reflect on himself—He Xiaoyuan clearly excelled at interpersonal skills, far more than Qin Chengfei.
Watching further, he noticed He Xiaoyuan had opened the computer at his workstation, asking routine questions—like whether they needed to clock in, whether leaders preferred OA or other tools for communication—and getting answers on the spot.
Qin Chengfei thought: when it comes to dealing with people, He Xiaoyuan really is impressive. At least much more capable than I am.
Meanwhile, He Xiaoyuan had also figured out the identities of the colleagues around him—they were mostly administrative staff and assistants for the department leaders, working regular hours and standing by as needed, not much different from admin staff in other departments.
After a while, some asked to add the handsome new guy on WeChat, which He Xiaoyuan politely allowed, and the crowd gradually dispersed.
Once everyone had left, He Xiaoyuan returned to his seat, noticing Qin Chengfei still watching him. While accepting friend requests, he casually asked, “Have you added them all?”
“…”
Qin Chengfei: “…No.”
He Xiaoyuan didn’t mind: “It’s fine. You can make a group chat later; same effect.”
With one sentence, he easily relieved Qin Chengfei’s awkwardness. Qin silently admired him.
He Xiaoyuan put down his phone, glanced at the OA, and asked Qin Chengfei: “Still slacking off?”
Qin switched back to his Minesweeper interface: “Mm.”
He Xiaoyuan muttered: “Once I finish setting up my workstation, I’ll come over and slack with you.”
Suddenly thinking of something, he turned: “By the way, who’s your direct supervisor? Could it happen to be… Brother Lu?”
He meant to ask ahead of time, to get a sense of the project team situation.
Qin Chengfei, still focused on the mouse, replied: “Don’t know.”
He Xiaoyuan: “….”