At half past ten at night, the Moxiang Literature editorial office was still brightly lit.
Outside, the city had fallen asleep, with only scattered headlights cutting through the darkness. But this seventeenth-floor office seemed to exist in another time zone. The clatter of keyboards, the clicks of mice, and the low hum of the copier mingled into a symphony for those working overtime.
To meet the deadline for the quarter's major publishing projects, all the editors and contracted authors had been dragged into a hellish collective overtime marathon. Shen Miaomiao hunched at her workstation, her eyes red from exhaustion, her fingers striking the keys so fast they seemed ready to spark.
The document open on her screen was Chapter Six of her new contemporary romance. Its title was “A Chance Encounter on a Rainy Night,” but the contents only gave her a worsening headache.
“The hero stood beneath a black umbrella in the pouring rain, like an inviolable god of war. Gazing at the heroine, his eyes as sharp as blades, he declared resoundingly, ‘Woman, this rain is Heaven's will, bringing you and me together.’”
Shen Miaomiao stared at the line and closed her eyes in agony.
A god of war? Heaven's will? She was writing an urban romance, not an immortal battle!
Ever since she'd switched to contemporary romance, her historical-fiction DNA had kept asserting itself. Write an argument between the leads, and out came “From this day forth, all affection and loyalty between us are severed.” Write the hero caring for the heroine, and it became “I command thee to drink thy medicine at once.” Even an everyday greeting nearly turned into “Hast thou been well of late?”
Shen Miaomiao sighed deeply and rubbed her stiff neck and shoulders. Lin Xiaotong, the art editor at the next desk, was also working late. Seeing her look as though she'd given up on life, Xiaotong leaned over and whispered, “Miaomiao, are you okay? You've been staring at the screen for half an hour.”
“No.” Shen Miaomiao waved weakly. “My head is full of ‘this master,’ ‘this exalted one,’ and ‘this king.’ I suspect if I tried writing the hero handing over a glass of water, I'd end up with ‘Behold the sacred water I have bestowed upon thee. Drink it at once.’”
Lin Xiaotong burst out laughing. “You're ridiculous. But seriously, this switch to contemporary romance has been hard on you. You've been the last one here every night these past few days.”
“What can I do? Mr. Lu's watching closely.” Shen Miaomiao pulled a miserable face. “Chapters Six through Eight are due next Friday, and I still can't get Chapter Six right.”
Just as she was about to have a nervous breakdown, the young receptionist came in carrying several large insulated bags, smiling excitedly. “Take a break, everyone! Mr. Lu ordered supper for us!”
Cheers immediately filled the office.
“Wow! Mr. Lu actually ordered supper! That's so thoughtful!”
“I was starving! Finally, food!”
“Mr. Lu's strict, but he's a decent guy!”
Several editors gathered to help distribute the meals. Soon the office smelled of barbecue sauce and rice. Rubbing her aching neck, Shen Miaomiao took her portion: a hefty box of roast chicken-leg rice, with a golden, crisp-skinned chicken leg and two side dishes.
But when she opened the bag, she discovered a separate bowl of warm sweet taro-ball soup tucked into the bottom!
Carefully sealed with insulating film, the bowl was still warm to the touch. When she opened it, a rich caramel aroma rose to meet her. Plump taro balls sat in thick, sweet soup, looking utterly irresistible.
Shen Miaomiao paused, cradling the bowl, and her eyes instantly lit up.
Sweet taro-ball soup?! Her absolute favorite!
She quickly looked around. Everyone else's bag contained only a meal box. No dessert soup. Hers alone had an extra bowl of taro balls.
“Weird...” She scratched her head. “Why am I the only one with dessert?”
Lin Xiaotong leaned over for a look and said enviously, “Wow! You got sweet taro-ball soup! Why didn't I? Come on, do you have someone pulling strings for you?”
“Pulling strings? I wish!” Shen Miaomiao said, exasperated. “Maybe the restaurant randomly threw in a freebie.”
That was what she said, though she vaguely felt something was off. But she was too hungry to think about it. She lifted the bowl and took a big sip. Rich caramel sweetness spread across her tongue, the taro balls springy and chewy as they slipped down her throat. Her whole soul felt restored.
She immediately took out her phone and opened WeChat, pouring both her grievances and her delight at discovering the dessert into messages to her longtime fan L online.
[Anonymous User 9527]: Longtime fan! Devil Lu really isn't human! Being a workaholic himself is one thing, but dragging the whole company into the grave with him in the middle of the night?! I swear his heart's made of steel. He doesn't need sleep at all!
Only a few steps away, in the editor-in-chief's office, Lu Chen sat behind his broad desk with a cup of coffee. When her complaint appeared on his phone, he raised an eyebrow and cast a cool glance at her through a gap in the blinds.
The girl was drinking the sweet taro-ball soup he'd specifically asked the restaurant to add while typing furiously to complain about him. Her shifting expressions were lively enough for a one-woman show.
The corner of Lu Chen's mouth twitched. His fingers moved quickly across his phone.
[L]: If he's so awful, don't eat the supper.
[Anonymous User 9527]: Absolutely not! I need a full stomach to have the energy to curse him in my head! Weird thing, though, the supper Devil Lu ordered today is actually good. He even added sweet taro-ball soup just for me... Has he secretly investigated my food preferences? (Suspicious sticker.)
Watching Shen Miaomiao frantically type her complaints while unwrapping a plastic spoon and gulping her dessert down with more enthusiasm than anyone, her brows even relaxing, Lu Chen's eyes held a helpless smile.
Of course he knew she liked sweet taro-ball soup.
Last month, while sorting the authors' files, he'd happened to see the personal questionnaire she'd filled out when joining the company. Under “Favorite food,” she'd written “sweet taro-ball soup” in crooked handwriting and drawn a little heart beside it.
Without realizing it, he'd remembered. When ordering supper today, he'd found himself calling the restaurant and specifically requesting a bowl of sweet taro-ball soup in one of the meal bags.
[L]: Probably just good luck. The restaurant gave it away at random.
[Anonymous User 9527]: True! How could a cold-blooded creature like Devil Lu know I like sweet things? Gotta go. Back to fighting my manuscript!
Lu Chen read her reply, shook his head, and placed his phone facedown on the desk. He turned his attention back to the financial reports before him. For some reason, though, the curve of his mouth took a long time to fade.
At half past eleven, their colleagues began finishing up and leaving. Most of the surrounding lights went dark.
“I'm off, Miaomiao! Don't stay too late!” Lin Xiaotong packed her bag and patted her shoulder on the way past.
“Mm. Go ahead. I'll leave when I've finished this bit.” Shen Miaomiao waved without raising her head.
When the last editor switched off the lights and left, she was alone in the open-plan office. The air conditioner's hum sounded especially clear in the silence. Outside, the night was ink-black, broken only by scattered lights in distant towers.
Unable to fight her drowsiness any longer, Shen Miaomiao's head sank, and she fell asleep right on her desk.
Her screen remained lit, the document paused at the line she'd just written: “Looking at the heroine's retreating figure, the hero's heart inexplicably skipped a beat.”
Some time later, soft footsteps came to a stop in the quiet office.
Lu Chen had finished his last document and shut down his computer, ready to leave. Passing through the open-plan area, he happened to glance over and saw Shen Miaomiao's workstation still lit. The girl had fallen asleep on her desk.
He stopped and stood silently before her workstation, looking down at her.
Curled up in her chair, she rested her small head on her folded arms. Her long lashes cast tiny shadows beneath her eyelids. Her nose was slightly red from staying up late, and a little caramel from her dessert still marked the corner of her mouth. Asleep, she'd lost the feisty air she wore by day. Quiet and gentle, she looked like a kitten that had let down its guard.
It was a September night, and the office air conditioning was set rather low. Wearing only a thin jacket and sleeping at her desk, she could easily catch a chill.
Without giving it much thought, Lu Chen unbuttoned his dark gray suit jacket and draped it over her shoulders with extraordinary care.
Its faint, cool woody fragrance, mingled with the barest hint of coffee, instantly enveloped Shen Miaomiao.
He watched her for two seconds, making sure the jacket was securely in place, then turned and strode back to his office to collect his things.
When Shen Miaomiao woke groggily, her hand touched the clothing covering her. The fabric felt exquisite and retained a trace of warmth and woody fragrance. It wasn't her own jacket.
Rubbing her eyes, she sat up, her brain still foggy, just in time to see Lu Chen's tall, straight figure turn into his office.
Holding the suit jacket, still warm from his body, Shen Miaomiao felt rather dazed.
Was this... Lu Chen's jacket?
Why had he put it over her?
Ding. Her phone lit up on the desk.
[L]: Still working late? Don't sleep on your desk. You'll catch a cold.
Shen Miaomiao blinked and hurried to reply.
[Anonymous User 9527]: How do you know I'm dozing off?! Did you put a surveillance camera on me?!
[L]: A guess. Writers working this late all get sleepy. You've worked hard. Have something sweet to refuel your brain, and go home soon.
Shen Miaomiao stared at “Have something sweet” on her phone, then looked at the empty bowl of taro-ball soup beside her. Her heart gave a sudden jolt.
Something sweet? Sweet taro-ball soup? Dozing on her desk? The suit jacket covering her?
An utterly absurd idea flashed through her mind. For the first time, she rubbed her chin and considered it seriously. “Could there be... some subtle connection between these things?”
She looked sharply toward Lu Chen's office. Light spilled through a gap in the blinds. He should still be inside.
If... if L was Lu Chen, why would he pretend to be an anonymous stranger and act out a fake online relationship with her? Why help her revise? Why buy her sweet taro-ball soup? Why cover her with his jacket?
Her thoughts tangled into knots, one idea after another racing through her head.
But soon she shook her head wildly, trying to fling that terrifying thought away. “Impossible, impossible! Shen Miaomiao, stop flattering yourself! How could a strict, high-and-mighty editor like Devil Lu care about what I like to eat? How could he stay up till midnight to play my fake boyfriend in an anonymous group?! He's already too busy reviewing manuscripts and attending meetings! It's a coincidence! Definitely a coincidence!”
She slapped her cheeks firmly, trying to calm down.
Despite what she said, she held that woody-scented suit jacket tightly against her chest. Listening to her own heartbeat quicken, she couldn't stop a blush from spreading over her cheeks.
She glanced down at the jacket's collar. Embroidered there was a tiny, almost imperceptible letter: L.
Shen Miaomiao's heart skipped another beat.