He Xiaoyuan sat at the corner of the bed holding his phone. Since they’d just added each other, he felt it would be rude to bombard the other person with questions right away. But if he only chatted a bit and then disappeared, that also felt impolite.
After some thought, he sent:
【Did you also enter the company through the management trainee track, Brother Lu?】
Lu: 【More or less.】
More or less?
He Xiaoyuan didn’t think too deeply about it and simply took it as a yes.
【We’re about to start rotations soon too.】
Lu: 【Mm. Get ready.】
【Is it hard?】
Lu: 【The pressure won’t be light.】
…
After exchanging just a few brief messages, He Xiaoyuan said good night.
Sitting alone on the bed, thinking about what Brother Lu had said—get ready, the pressure won’t be light—He Xiaoyuan quietly weighed the workload awaiting him during rotations.
Hard?
Or really hard?
He Xiaoyuan leaned back and lay down, staring silently at the ceiling.
After a bit of mental preparation, he stopped thinking about it.
Adjust, adapt, rotate, go to work—everyone else had made it through this way. Of course he could too.
Hang in there.
He Xiaoyuan quietly encouraged himself.
The next day, he brought the water bottle and other useful items from the welcome gift to the office.
As soon as he sat down at his desk, Jiang Weiwei leaned over. “You brought that water bottle too? Me too.” She lifted hers to show him. “It’s actually pretty nice.”
Everyone had just arrived, and some people were still eating breakfast at their desks.
With nothing pressing to do, they started chatting again—
“Does the company provide breakfast?”
“Yeah. This is from the cafeteria. There’s a decent variety too.”
…
“Does anyone here live in the company dorms? I saw photos Sister Xuanmin posted in the group before—it looked pretty nice.”
“I don’t.”
“Me neither.”
“Where do you live then?”
“Oh, at home. There’s a subway nearby, not too far.”
“I live at my boyfriend’s place. He works around here too, so it’s close.”
“I rent.”
“Is it expensive?”
“It’s okay. I just graduated, so I’m still leeching off my parents for now.”
…
That was when He Xiaoyuan realized that out of the eleven of them, he was the only one who’d applied for the dorm.
He’d seen people in the onboarding group say that having dorms was convenient and great, and he’d assumed many people would apply. Only now did he realize that most of them already had living arrangements and didn’t need the company dorms at all.
He also realized that this was because everyone else’s circumstances were pretty good.
Like Yuan Miao—his family had directly bought an apartment nearby. Renting wasn’t even something he had to think about.
He Xiaoyuan had known since he was little that he had no parents and couldn’t compare himself to others. Now, seeing the gap was as vast as a chasm, he didn’t even feel much emotion about it anymore.
Just focus on work.
He Xiaoyuan told himself quietly.
At that moment, the management trainees drifted back to talking about the “help card” in the welcome gift—
“Did you all add yours?”
“I did.”
“I haven’t yet. I was planning to ask you guys today whether you’d added them.”
“Yeah, I added mine too.”
“Have you actually chatted yet?”
“Once you add someone, you should at least say hello.”
“Everyone probably got a different person, right?”
“Definitely different. No way it’s the same person.”
“That’s actually nice. At least there’s someone to ask if you don’t understand something.”
“I’m kind of embarrassed to ask. We’re not familiar.”
“Just tough it out and ask. Someone is better than no one.”
“Our company’s pretty humane.”
“Well, it’s a big corporation.”
…
Jiang Weiwei leaned over again and asked He Xiaoyuan, “Hey, He Xiaoyuan, is the one you added a guy or a girl?”
“A guy,” He Xiaoyuan replied.
“Mine’s a girl.”
…
Soon, the rotation schedule for the eleven trainees was released.
He Xiaoyuan was grouped with Jiang Weiwei, Yuan Miao, Zou Fanping, and Xin Rui. The remaining six formed another group, and the two teams would rotate through different departments.
The first department for He Xiaoyuan’s group was a small team under the mobile games division that handled otome games.
When He Xiaoyuan heard this, he didn’t say anything. He also didn’t join Zou Fanping and Yuan Miao in their discussion about games. Instead, he quietly took out his phone and searched what “otome” meant.
He’d just finished reading when Zou Fanping turned around and asked what kinds of games He Xiaoyuan usually played—RPGs or SLGs.
He Xiaoyuan paused, then said quietly, “I don’t play.”
All his time had gone into school and part-time jobs. He never played games.
And honestly, he hadn’t even understood what RPG or SLG meant. He had no idea what those were.
Zou Fanping froze for a second. “You don’t?” His tone was clearly surprised.
Yuan Miao chimed in, “You’re way too much of a model student. I had a phase where I played Honor of Kings nonstop—stayed in the dorm all day, didn’t even bother eating.”
The group of five was led by an HR colleague to their rotation department. Coincidentally, the one leading them was Zhu Xuanmin.
After they arrived at the game team, the department supervisor took over and introduced the department and the game they were currently responsible for.
The supervisor spoke quickly, mixing in all kinds of letters and English abbreviations.
All five had notebooks and pens, taking notes as they listened, occasionally glancing at the concept art and character data on the computer screen.
It was at this point that the gap between them became obvious.
Yuan Miao asked a lot of questions, his thinking clear, interacting with the supervisor the most. Zou Fanping could also jump in from time to time with a comment or two. The remaining three were basically silent.
He Xiaoyuan took notes too. He listened to Yuan Miao and the others talking with the supervisor, and he did ask a few questions himself. But more than anyone else, he knew the truth—ever since they arrived at the department, from the supervisor’s self-introduction to the formal explanation of the game, it had felt like listening to a foreign language. He simply couldn’t understand a lot of it.
His palms were slick with sweat.
Once the session ended and they returned to the HR floor, He Xiaoyuan sat down at his desk and immediately started organizing his notes.
He hadn’t been at it long when the OA icon flashed. Zhu Xuanmin had created a small group chat and told the five of them that they needed to submit a write-up by the next morning—sharing their thoughts on the game the rotation department was responsible for.
HR—Graduate Trainees (Group 1)—Jiang Weiwei:
【Sister Xuanmin, about how many words?】
HR—HR—Zhu Xuanmin:
【No fixed length. Just write freely. When you’re done, submit it through the system to my email. But watch the time—definitely before tomorrow morning. Latest is before work starts.】
【Received.】
He Xiaoyuan replied as well and hurried to keep整理 his notes. He didn’t even touch the afternoon tea that had been delivered.
By the time he finished organizing, Yuan Miao announced in the group chat that he was done.
Xin Rui:
【You’re way too fast.】
Zou Fanping:
【I’m almost done too.】
Jiang Weiwei:
【Yuan Miao, can I take a look at yours?】
Yuan Miao:
【Sure.】
Xin Rui:
【Me too. @Yuan Miao】
Yuan Miao directly shared his document in the group.
He Xiaoyuan hadn’t planned to look at Yuan Miao’s work, but when he opened a blank document and realized he barely understood the game and had almost no ideas of his own, he still clicked on Yuan Miao’s file.
He hadn’t expected it to be this shocking.
Yuan Miao’s thinking was incredibly clear, and his understanding of the game was deep—the target market, the game’s strengths and weaknesses, traffic and daily active users, room for improvement—he covered everything.
As He Xiaoyuan read, his expression grew serious as he stared at the screen.
Beside him, Jiang Weiwei was typing while turning her head. “He Xiaoyuan, are you done too?”
“No,” He Xiaoyuan said.
Far from it. He was going to be “working overtime” tonight.
By the time work ended, Zou Fanping and Xin Rui had both finished as well, sent their documents to Zhu Xuanmin, and shared them in the group chat.
Jiang Weiwei pushed her keyboard aside and stood up. “Sigh, I’m going downstairs to eat first. I’ll come back up later to keep writing, then head out once I’m done.”
He Xiaoyuan had already shut down his computer, getting ready to leave.
“You’re done?” Jiang Weiwei asked.
“I’ll write it at home,” He Xiaoyuan said.
On the company shuttle back to the dorms, He Xiaoyuan logged into the company system on his phone and pulled up Xin Rui’s and Zou Fanping’s write-ups from the group chat.
After skimming through them quickly, he immediately opened the app store and downloaded the game.
While registering an account, a WeChat notification popped up at the top of the screen. He Xiaoyuan glanced at it—it was Xu Ruomeng.
Xu Ruomeng:
【Dinner? Now?】
He Xiaoyuan:
【Nope.】
Xu Ruomeng:
【What’s wrong?】
He Xiaoyuan replied: “I don’t know how to do the assignment.”
He really didn’t know how. It wasn’t modesty. After reading what Yuan Miao and the others had written, he understood even more clearly just how empty his own head was.
He needed time. He needed to understand this game. He had to put something into his head.
Back at the dorm, He Xiaoyuan spent a full two-plus hours playing that otome game.
Spris Building, CEO’s Office.
Lu Chen glanced at his phone.
The kid hadn’t sent a single message today. He wondered how the first day of rotation had gone.
The next day, Lu Chen saw the first batch of “assignments” from Management Trainee Group One—eleven people in total—sent over by Qiao Sixing. One task was an analysis of a company-owned game; the other was a commentary on a recent public opinion incident.
Lu Chen flipped through the documents quickly, page by page, until his gaze stopped on He Xiaoyuan’s file.
He read it carefully, then pressed his lips together slightly.
It was like squeezing toothpaste out of the tube, bit by bit.
He guessed someone hadn’t slept well last night.
In the office, after submitting his document, He Xiaoyuan slumped forward onto his desk.
He had rushed it out before 1 a.m. the night before. After that, thinking about how those few paragraphs had taken him hours to squeeze out, he tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep at all.
Now it was ten in the morning, and he was dead tired.
But more than the exhaustion, what bothered He Xiaoyuan was that on his very first day of rotation, he felt like he knew nothing.
Only now did he truly understand what Brother Lu had meant by “be prepared.”
“Let’s go, let’s go—upstairs.”
Zhu Xuanmin pushed open the glass door to the office area and called out from the doorway.
He Xiaoyuan straightened up and quietly forced himself to focus.
Everyone waited together by the elevators. When one finally arrived and they were about to step in, they ran into another HR colleague coming out, carrying two bags.
Seeing Zhu Xuanmin, the colleague hurriedly said, “Perfect timing—coffee.”
Zhu Xuanmin: “?”
The colleague explained, “Ordered by the CEO’s office. For the management trainees.”
Only then did Zhu Xuanmin take the bags, surprised. “They’re delivering coffee this early now?”
“No idea,” the colleague said. “I just got the call.”
And so, as they headed upstairs for rotation, everyone was holding a cup of coffee.
Jiang Weiwei took a sip. “No sugar again.”
He Xiaoyuan took a drink, quietly steadying his breath. Thank goodness—coffee. He was saved.
That day, He Xiaoyuan and the others stayed with the upstairs game team until three in the afternoon. When they came back down, Zhu Xuanmin posted another message in the group, asking for yet another write-up to be submitted before work the next day.
The other six trainees weren’t around. Each of them sat at their desks staring at their screens. Yuan Miao’s keyboard clattered nonstop as he said, “So… are we going to have something to write every single day from now on?”
Xin Rui typed as she replied, “Probably.”
Zou Fanping said, “Now it makes sense.”
Jiang Weiwei asked, “Makes sense how?”
Zou Fanping said, “Didn’t we talk before about there being evaluations, and whether they’d be accurate? If they make us write and submit stuff every day, that’s the basis for scoring, isn’t it?”
Xin Rui: “Oh—yeah!”
He Xiaoyuan couldn’t even muster a comment. He had a feeling he wouldn’t be sleeping tonight either.
This second “assignment” was: how to increase user traffic while maintaining daily active users.
Even Zou Fanping said, “That’s hard.”
Xin Rui added, “If I knew how to do that, I’d already be a department head.”
Jiang Weiwei: “I’m going bald.”
Yuan Miao said, “Just write. Do it with your eyes closed if you have to.”
He Xiaoyuan quietly let out a breath—one that perfectly voiced what all five of them were feeling.
In the end, aside from Yuan Miao’s, every submission was sent back.
Zhu Xuanmin wrote in the group: “Not good enough. Director Hu isn’t satisfied. Everyone needs to keep pushing.”
Xin Rui replied in the group: “Got it, Sister Xuanmin.”
In the office, she tilted her head back and groaned, “Oh my god~!”
At that moment, all eleven trainees were present, a deathly sense of despair filling the entire office space. One group had their work rejected and needed to rewrite; the other group had no idea where to even start on their PR piece.
All eleven of them: Kill—me—now—
Seeing that even Yuan Miao—the only one who didn’t have to rewrite—was sighing along with everyone else, Zou Fanping couldn’t help saying, “You don’t need to act like this, do you?”
Yuan Miao leaned back in his chair. “I’m done with life too.”
“?”
Yuan Miao said, “My girlfriend wants to break up with me.”
Everyone: “……”
He Xiaoyuan, who almost never spoke up in group chats, finally opened his mouth: “I’ll trade you. I’d rather break up.”
Yuan Miao: “……”
Everyone: “……”
Everyone: Yes, yes, break up. Breakups are nothing. In front of assignments, breakups are nothing at all.
Yuan Miao: “……”