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Song Jiakai had allocated the promotion business for Tan Hua Elegant Court to Zhang Momo, even though she had not agreed to his marriage proposal.

“Are you refusing my business again? Are you worried that after accepting these hundreds of thousands from me, you won’t be able to resist throwing yourself at me?” Song Jiakai said this while sitting on the sofa in the general manager’s office of Tongzhi Advertising, holding their promotional brochure and taking a sip of their tea, casting a sidelong glance at Zhang Momo, the general manager.

“What?” Zhang Momo’s brow furrowed so tightly it looked like it would become a rope. The expression of inscrutable superiority on his face made her exclaim, “What kind of logic is that? Even if we take your advertising job, we’re earning our pay through work, aren’t we? Are we taking advantage of you for nothing?”

“Then why won’t you take Haoyuan’s business?”

“Fine, I’ll take it! Who’s afraid of whom!”

The day after she uttered those words, Zhang Momo regretted it. Choosing to work with Haoyuan was, without a doubt, the most unwise decision she could have made, because the person in charge of advertising planning at Haoyuan was none other than their marketing director—Song Jiahui!

Dealing with a difficult client was one thing; what was truly terrifying was a client who dragged their personal prejudices into work, making issues out of nothing, and, with a forthright and domineering personality, did so blatantly and relentlessly, day after day, showing no sign of stopping before the contract’s end.

Tan Hua Elegant Court had set up a marketing center downtown for early-stage promotion and publicity. The exhibition hall layout and promotional material design were entrusted to Tongzhi Creative. Zhang Momo was run off her feet. On Friday at half past six, she returned to the showroom with a set of real estate brochures, only to find Dong Fei perched on an empty platform meant for displaying the model apartment, sighing. As soon as she came in, Dong Fei jumped down from the low platform.

“Manager Zhang, this job is impossible!” Dong Fei said, hands on her hips, giving the poor platform a kick. “That Supervisor Wang from their marketing department came to inspect today. He insisted the platform isn’t presentable and wants us to redo it. How is it not presentable? Aren’t model home displays always like this? The buyers care about the model itself, not whether the platform is inlaid with diamonds!”

Zhang Momo felt a headache coming on. Just earlier, when she showed the sample brochure to Song Jiahui, she received similar feedback: “Tasteless, not high-class enough!” No specific suggestions were given—just a blanket dismissal: “Unsatisfactory!”

This was already the second round of samples for the client, with the electronic design concepts having been approved by them early on! Zhang Momo knew that even if she produced two more design schemes, the only feedback from Song Jiahui would be “unsatisfactory.” As long as it was her design, Song Jiahui would never be satisfied.

“All right, you can leave for the day. I’ll think of something.” She dragged her tired legs into the back room, which was cluttered with all kinds of materials and had only two little stools for seating. Feeling utterly exhausted, Zhang Momo hooked one over with her foot, collapsed onto it, and leaned against the wall, making it serve as a sort of chair.

Spring had arrived, and the days were gradually lengthening; yet, sooner or later, the sun must set. Watching the light in the room slowly fade, Zhang Momo slumped in the corner, staring blankly. Every completed, ongoing, or even unfinished piece in this showroom was unsatisfactory to the client—except for the stack of project renderings by the door, which were done by Haoyuan’s own designers. Was there any point to such a hopeless task? She was supposed to be a designer, yet she was beginning to feel more like a debater. Every day, she clashed with Song Jiahui and her subordinates over every kind of material, each side trying to convince the other they were right. They weren’t building a showroom; they were rehearsing for a debate competition!

As she sighed, even the sun seemed unwilling to listen, racing to set and end the day. Zhang Momo remained in the little dark room, racking her brains over this arduous business. Even if she had made mistakes or lacked refinement, what had she done to make Song Jiahui detest her so much? Only when her stomach grumbled did she finally stand, legs numb. In the midst of knocking about, she heard the door to the main hall open. Just as she was about to go out, Song Jiahui’s loud voice reached her ears.

“Look at this! After work and you don’t even lock the door—what kind of responsible worker is that? Insisting on hiring her little shabby company, just look for yourself,” and with that, something resembling a wooden box was kicked onto the floor with a thud. “This showroom has been under construction for over half a month, and it’s still a mess. Just look at what they’ve done!”

Zhang Momo felt all her energy drain away. The solution she’d been desperately contemplating a moment before now seemed a waste of time. Wasn’t this “mess” due to her? With everything having to be redone, chaos was inevitable! She was done—absolutely done! Now, she would march out, throw herself in front of that woman, and, even if it was her last act, give her a fright.

“Jiahui, please, stop making things worse, okay? What’s the point of dragging me here? Even if she’s just pocketing money and doing nothing, I can’t just break the contract. What did Momo ever do to offend you? Didn’t you tell me after you first met her that you liked her? How did it come to this?”

Song Jiakai, clearly dragged there against his will, sounded impatient yet a little pleading. Zhang Momo hadn’t expected him to be present and, startled, abandoned her plan to rush out.

“You should ask what kind of person she really is!” With a snap, Song Jiahui switched all the showroom lights on, and within seconds, the door to the back room was half-opened. Zhang Momo stood in the corner, thinking how awkward this situation was, and instinctively hid behind the door. Song Jiahui didn’t notice anyone in the dark and casually closed the door again, then turned to glare at Song Jiakai, clearly furious. “She acted out of line at the reception, showing off her attitude—fine, that Fang Tingting isn’t easy to deal with either. Her scandalous photos are all over the place, but she was a victim there. But now, she’s still entangled with her ex-brother-in-law—what’s that about? Are you really willing to pick up what Xiang Zuo discarded?”

“Don’t talk nonsense!” Song Jiakai’s face turned cold as he flung off Song Jiahui’s hand. After a pause, he looked back, his gaze wintry, “Where did you hear that?”

“Who do I need to hear it from?” Song Jiahui slammed her purse onto the table with a dull thud. “Don’t play dumb with me, Song Jiakai!”

Whether that tone intimidated Song Jiakai was unclear; but just a door away, Zhang Momo felt as though she’d been struck by a heavy hammer, her ears still buzzing afterward. The phrase echoing in her mind was “picking up what Xiang Zuo discarded.” What did that mean? Everything that happened between her, Nianqing, and Xiang Zuo—she hadn’t spoken a word of it, not even to Song Jiakai. She believed she and Xiang Zuo were truly finished, at least on the surface. How could even someone like Song Jiahui, an outsider, still see Xiang Zuo in her shadow? What had she done to draw that conclusion? What exactly did she know?

While she was still at a loss, Song Jiakai’s voice rang out, sharp and merciless. “Are you projecting yourself onto Zhang Momo? You married my brother-in-law but still pine for that Chen Jianbin—so it’s you who can’t get over your old flame, isn’t it?”

A crisp slap resounded, making Zhang Momo behind the door flinch. Song Jiahui shouted, “You bastard!” her voice trembling with rage. Zhang Momo, pinned behind the door, dared not move. The silence outside grew deeper, with not a sound for a long while.

Song Jiakai looked at his sister’s reddened eyes, silent for a long time. At last, he turned away, voice subdued. “I’m sorry.”

In the stillness, Song Jiahui’s voice came again, this time thick with tears. “Song Jiakai, do you understand anything at all? Who else but me would say these things to you? Your mind’s so muddled you can’t tell good from bad, is that it? Fine, I won’t interfere. Go ahead and be reckless!”

“Sis, I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant.” Song Jiakai finally admitted defeat, brow furrowed. “I know you’re looking out for me. But I really like her. I’ve considered breaking up, but I can’t!” As he spoke, he searched the advertising materials until he found a box of tissues and, trying to appease her, handed her one. “Don’t cry, is it really worth it? I just mentioned his name and you act like I stepped on your tail. After all these years, are you still hung up on that Chen guy?”

He soothed with the gentle words he was so adept at, turning all the faults into helpless compromise. In the end, connected by blood, Song Jiahui looked at her brother’s half-red face and couldn’t help but feel regretful. She snatched the tissue, full of resentment. “You’re the one who’s hopelessly infatuated—your whole family is!”

Song Jiakai laughed, conceding easily. “You’re right, I really am hopelessly infatuated.” Seeing that Song Jiahui was still fuming, he mustered another smile and handed her another tissue. “Sis, I mean it. I’ve never asked anything of you—just be nicer to Momo. Our parents are enough trouble as it is, and if you make it worse, you’ll be the death of me.”

He softened, looking at her with pitiful hope. Eventually, Song Jiahui relented, though she ground her teeth in frustration. “Song Jiakai, this is the path you chose! I won’t interfere anymore. But if you end up suffering at Xiang Zuo’s hands, don’t come crying to me!”

Two sets of footsteps, uneven in pace, faded into the darkness as the main lights went out. Zhang Momo was left frozen in the room. The brother and sister’s conversation had been chaotic and disjointed; every word seemed comprehensible, and yet not a single sentence was truly clear. All that remained was the realization that, in others’ eyes, she and Xiang Zuo were still connected.

She should not be seen as having anything to do with Xiang Zuo! It had been forty-two days—forty-two whole days since she’d seen him, called him, or even dared to think about him. Why, then, were she and he still being linked together?