Chapter 45: Welcome Party
Wen Bairan ultimately started at P&t.
But she didn’t see Song Xu at the company.
She heard he’d gone away on a business trip.
A business trip.
For a week.
What a convenient excuse.
What perfect timing.
If Wen Bairan hadn’t seen the photos he sent from the meeting, she would have suspected Song Xu was avoiding her.
Because of what happened that night.
She truly had never seen Song Xu so silent, unwilling to say even a single word to her.
He got out of bed and went to the table to light a cigarette.
The flame’s flicker didn’t light up his eyes, shrouded in shadow.
Those sharp, narrow eyes were dark and brooding, staring into the hazy dawn and fog outside the window.
For a moment, Wen Bairan looked at his lonely figure and had the illusion that he had been really hurt.
But she told herself it was just an illusion.
Song Xu, this top-of-the-line humanoid machine on the market, wasn’t built to feel hurt.
Humans bleed, but what would an AI bleed?
Code, maybe?
Wen Bairan couldn’t picture it.
After work on Friday, Xiang Sun called her himself to say the company had prepared a welcome party for her.
To reassure her, he emphasized that a lot of people were coming. Since its founding, P&t had never had a real company retreat, and this was a good opportunity for everyone to get to know each other and work better together in future work.
Wen Bairan listened to him ramble, but the key point was in the last sentence.
"Mr. Song’s coming tonight. You must come."
Song Xu was back already?
Wen Bairan wasn’t sure how Xiang Sun saw her relationship with Song Xu, but she doubted he simply saw her as his old employee.
She had found out about Tan Zheng too late—there was no opportunity, nor any need, to explain anything.
The damage was done.
Even Xiang Sun had told Tan Zheng that while his old friend could be pretty harsh sometimes, he usually wasn’t this cruel. It was just that the secretary mattered more to him than Tan Zheng did, so sorry.
These were words Tan Zheng had personally told her three days ago when they met. After he moved to Shanghai for college, things never went smoothly for him. He bounced between jobs after graduation, each ending hastily. Finally, when Xiang Sun recognized his talent, he naturally went all out.
That day, when they first arrived in Shenjiang, Xiang Sun invited Song Xu to tag along. During the conversation, Xiang Sun mentioned seeing Wen Bairan’s name as the point person in the project documents. To seem friendly, Tan Zheng volunteered that they were high school classmates.
When Xiang Sun heard she was now Song Xu’s secretary, he curiously asked if she was pretty and what kind of person she was.
Tan Zheng smiled and said she had been the prom queen back in the day. Though he hadn’t seen her in years, she was still just as striking. However, very pretty girls tended to be a little stuck-up, and Wen Bairan was among the most humble of them—though he wasn’t sure if that was still the case.
Song Xu showed no reaction to this, twirling his liquor glass between his thumb and middle finger. He didn’t drink from it, but he didn’t set it down either, like he was waiting to hear more.
So Tan Zheng continued, "I heard from mutual friends that she did well in her career after graduation, but something must have happened later because she fell off the radar for a while. Everyone thought she had married her wealthy boyfriend and settled abroad. I never expected she’d be working for you now. What a coincidence."
At that time, it had been nearly ten years since Tan Zheng last had contact with Wen Bairan. It was just that she was too exceptional and too distant in school. There was an alumni group from high school—she wasn’t in it, but even now, people occasionally mentioned her name in the group.
Tan Zheng still remembered how she rarely socialized in school. Boys usually secretly liked her but were too shy to talk to her; girls mostly kept their distance out of jealousy. Wen Bairan’s isolation might not have been innate, but over time, it became the way everyone saw her.
He repeatedly assured her that he wasn’t trying to put her down when he said those things at the table. He simply didn’t know they had already broken up and that Song Xu was pursuing her at the time. He had shot his mouth off, and just two days later, Xiang Sun fired him for taking kickbacks on the project.
Kickbacks—he had indeed taken them, and quite a bit.
And it wasn’t just on this project, nor was he the only one involved.
Since when was that a fireable offense?
Xiang Sun didn’t explicitly name anyone, only vaguely mentioning that Song Xu was a good friend of his and would soon become his business partner. There was nothing he could do, but in recognition of Tan Zheng’s hard work over the years, he would offer him a severance package.
Tan Zheng was smart. The moment Xiang Sun mentioned Song Xu, he immediately realized he must have offended him at the dinner that day. But after thinking it over, the atmosphere had seemed perfectly fine that evening. The only possible misstep was when he brought up Wen Bairan.
Could it be that they…?
Xiang Sun didn’t know either, and even if he did, he wouldn’t say. He told Tan Zheng he was still young and had a bright future ahead, but he should remember to watch what he says in public from now on.
Wen Bairan knew nothing about this from start to finish. Even if she had known, now that she had Song Xu in her corner, she was at the top of the food chain. With him supporting her, Tan Zheng had no choice but to suck it up.
He sugarcoated this submission to how the world works as being matter-of-fact rather than personal. Without shifting blame, he just sighed and said, "The workplace is too cruel."
Wen Bairan listened to all this with a calm exterior.
Afterward, the two walked out of the café together.
Tan Zheng lamented, "This place is good in every way, except it’s not as big as Shanghai."
Wen Bairan replied lightly, "There’s only one Shanghai. Not many places can compare to it. It’s like the place where you grew up—not every city can replace it."
Her words were elegant and effortless. Tan Zheng couldn’t help but look at her, reminded of her detached, unruffled demeanor from their school days, as though she were above worldly concerns. Setbacks and hardships were like a light breeze or drizzle to her—she could pass through them without even needing an umbrella.
It was easy to understand such carefree innocence during student days, but after all these years, she was still the same. It was hard not to feel somewhat unbalanced.
Tan Zheng smiled bitterly. "Yeah, but I don’t plan on leaving again. I’ll just stay home and run a small business, getting by is enough. Sometimes I really envy you women. You don’t have to worry about marrying and providing for a family, no pressure of mortgages. The cost of living is just a matter of personal taste. When that taste becomes a burden, you can just marry a man and continue living like a fairy, surviving on dew. If you’re unlucky enough to be tainted by the mundane chores of life, you can just blame the man for not being good enough. How easy."
By the end, his bitterness had faded, replaced by thick sarcasm and contempt.
Noticing Wen Bairan’s expression darken, he backtracked, "Oh, don’t misunderstand. I’m not talking about you. Of course, you’re not that kind of woman. With someone like Mr. Song pursuing you, you’ll never have to worry about food or clothing."
His attempt to make amends was clumsy, worse than not saying anything at all.
But his words clearly reflected how, after years of struggle and failure, Tan Zheng’s mindset was completely different from when they were in school.
She had every reason to believe he had said far more than just those two sentences that day.
Given the kind of person Song Xu was, if Tan Zheng had truly meant no harm as he claimed, Song Xu would never have held it against him to this extent.
"See, you've just revealed your true colors."
Wen Bairan's expression turned cold. They were classmates, and she had spared his feelings earlier, but now there was no need.
"I may not be that kind of woman, but you certainly are that kind of man," she said.
Tan Zheng was taken aback. "...What kind?"
"Petty. Nitpicking. You like to blame your incompetence and baseness on society and women to cover up your greed for wanting to reap without sowing. Given your brown-nosing and spinelessness, you’d actually be better off becoming the 'kind of woman' you described. Or should I take it that you yourself already have such ideas?"
After all that, Tan Zheng still resented her.
In his eyes, she was just eye candy who had left her rich second-generation boyfriend and quickly latched onto a CEO. What right did she have to lecture him here?
Xiang Sun’s advice to keep his mouth shut was truly for his own good, but unfortunately, he hadn’t learned the lesson of learning from his mistakes.
Wen Bairan looked him up and down, her gaze filled with wordless pity as she took in his pale face. She shook her head and said, "It’s just a pity that you happen to be such an unreasonable and arrogant sex, which makes you too afraid to even openly express such ordinary thoughts."
The person who had once taught her how to do physics homework was long gone. She regretfully left him with one final blessing: "Since we were classmates, I can only wish you to be a more confident woman in your next life."
//
Wen Bairan still attended the welcome party that evening.
She had gone back to change her clothes.
By the time she arrived, they had already started.
In the oversized private room, projection screens covered the ceiling and floor. A vibrant Hawaiian beach scene surrounded them, with waves crashing all around, and the sound of singing blasting from the speakers.
As she pushed the door open, she was nearly overwhelmed by the wave of sound.
Once she steadied herself, she scanned the room.
She didn’t see many familiar faces.
Qiao Yi hadn’t arrived yet.
Neither had Song Xu.
The only colleague from the department she was familiar with was talking to Xiang Sun. They were seated in the center, too far from where she was. She didn’t want to go over, but a few people near the door noticed her and stood up to make space for her. "Sister Ran."
She had no choice but to squeeze through them.
Halfway through, she was blocked by a coffee table and couldn’t go further, so she simply took a seat in a nearby empty spot. By the time Xiang Sun noticed her, Wen Bairan was idly texting Qiao Yi, asking when she would arrive.
Like her, Qiao Yi had gone home after work to do her makeup, but she had run into heavy traffic on her way out and was still stuck, expecting to be delayed for another twenty minutes or so.
Wen Bairan replied, "Okay."
Just after sending the message, she heard Xiang Sun call her.
"Director Wen!"
Wen Bairan turned to look and saw him holding a microphone in one hand while waving enthusiastically with the other. "Director Wen, over here!"
At his command, the people in the middle quickly began shifting to make space.
She had no choice but to stand up and continue squeezing through.
This time, she made it through smoothly.
When Wen Bairan went back to change, she had also done her makeup, though it was still very light. She didn’t know how to do heavy makeup. But considering that KTVs are always dimly lit, she had applied a layer of lip gloss.
She had fresh-faced features—gentle and quiet during the day. Now, under the constantly changing colored spotlights above, her fair skin perfectly captured the kaleidoscope of colors. When she smiled, her lips looked full and glossy, like a plump, juicy peach.
Her limpid eyes glanced over faintly, unintentionally carrying a charming and playful allure.
"President Xiang."
Xiang Sun didn’t hide his admiration and praised, "Director Wen, you look absolutely stunning tonight!"
He finally understood why Song Xu was so hung up on her—Wen Bairan truly had a unique aura.
She had been on her phone earlier, and Xiang Sun assumed she was waiting for Song Xu. He smiled and said, "Don’t worry, he’ll be here soon."
Wen Bairan was slightly taken aback. Seeing him wink suggestively at her, she wanted to ask if he had misunderstood something, but he didn’t give her a chance to speak. Instead, he urged everyone to choose songs enthusiastically and, leading by example, took the stage to sing a song himself.
Ding Benxuan, who was nearby, had already prepared drinks and asked her what she wanted to drink.
The private room was crowded, and with the heating on, it was a bit warm.
Wen Bairan took off her coat and placed it behind her, pointing to the glass with ice without asking what it was.
Ding Benxuan paused for a moment and handed her another glass.
"Have this one for now." It was too noisy; even sitting close, they had to raise their voices to be heard.
Wen Bairan wondered why this glass wasn’t iced. Ding Benxuan suddenly leaned in and said, "We’re out of ice. I’ll add some for you when the waiter brings more."
He leaned in too close, and Wen Bairan instinctively pulled back, but he also moved away at the same time.
She paused for a moment, glanced at the previous glass, and asked why he hadn’t given her that one.
Ding Benxuan suddenly brought his head close again, his ear level with her mouth, his face lowered, asking her to repeat herself.
Her eyelashes lowered, and she noticed the uneven hair gel in his hair.
She remembered that this kid hadn’t graduated yet—he was in his second year of graduate school at Shenzhen University.
He was currently working in the R&D department, responsible for liaising with the Shenzhen University lab alongside his senior. Barring any surprises, he would stay with the company until graduation.
So she asked again, "Why didn’t you give me the alcohol?"
"It’s still early. President Song hasn’t arrived yet. It wouldn’t be good for you to get drunk too early." Ding Benxuan spoke toward her neck, where her hair provided cover from his breath. This sense of boundaries was quite comforting.
After speaking, he raised his head, afraid she might think he was overstepping, and gave an ingratiating smile.
He was not even twenty-three yet, and between his brows still lingered the cunning and shrewdness of a boy who thought he was hiding it well.
But this wasn’t scheming—at most, it was cleverness and pettiness. It wasn’t off-putting; in fact, it made him seem quite innocent.
In the company, he and Ye Zhe were both talked about for their looks.
Ye Zhe was the aloof academic type—his features were good, but he was too rigid, not very skilled with interpersonal relationships, and did everything by the book.
But Qiao Yi liked him a lot; she was looking for exactly that kind of puppy-like younger brother.
Ding Benxuan had the looks of a K-drama heartthrob. People in the company said he was a budget alternative for Song Xu.
Wen Bairan didn’t think so. Ding Benxuan was clearly more roguish and more outgoing, with none of that deadly sarcasm in his eyes.
Unlike Song Xu, who was so cold it kept people at a distance.
Anyway, more people in the company liked him.
Because the lab was undergoing upgrades recently, his senior had returned to school to work on his graduation thesis, leaving Ding Benxuan with little to do at the company. He was temporarily reassigned to assist Wen Bairan. At work, he introduced himself as Wen Bairan’s assistant, and colleagues jokingly called him Assistant Ding, urging him to keep a close eye on Director Wen—this golden opportunity could land him a job after graduation.
Of course, it was all just joking around, and Wen Bairan never paid it much mind.
Xiang Sun was on stage, really getting into singing, one song after another.
Qiao Yi finally arrived half an hour later, fighting her way through the crowd. Ding Benxuan obediently gave up his seat next to Wen Bairan for her.
“Ugh, the traffic was a nightmare!” Qiao Yi complained as she sat down, her stuff tumbled onto Wen Bairan’s lap.
She didn’t seem to notice, but Ding Benxuan, who was still standing, suddenly bent down and scooped up the bags and clothes, smiling as he said, “President Qiao’s bag looks expensive. Let me find a spot to tuck it away for you.”
Qiao Yi praised his attentiveness—after all, she’d just spent two months' salary on it. “Xuan, you’re going places!”
“You know it,” Ding Benxuan said loudly. “Riding with my Sister Ran is how you get ahead!”
Wen Bairan glanced up just as he was looking at her with a look like a puppy begging for treats.
She froze for a second.
But the look vanished almost instantly.
As if it were just an offhand, flattering joke, Ding Benxuan turned away, yelling, “Make way, coming through!” as he squeezed past people’s knees to find a place for the bags.
The moment he left, Qiao Yi elbowed Wen Bairan’s arm and said, “He calls me ‘President’ but calls you ‘Sister’!”
Wen Bairan hadn’t noticed. “What’s the difference? Does it make me seem older?”
“As if!” Qiao Yi rolled her eyes. “Calling me ‘President’ means it's all business with me. Calling you ‘Sister’ means he’s closer to you!”
“......”
Wen Bairan had admired Qiao Yi’s ability to find clues in the smallest details countless times.
But for someone so sharp, how had she not caught on to Wen Bairan’s relationship with Song Xu?
The fact that they’d kept it completely under wraps didn’t give Wen Bairan any sense of accomplishment. Instead, it made her even more certain that there was no real feelings between her and Song Xu. Otherwise, how could Qiao Yi have missed it?
Just then, Xiang Sun and Ding Benxuan returned.
With them back, plus Qiao Yi, the energy level shot up by two degrees.
Games, singing, drinking—they went all out with everything.
Song Xu still hadn’t shown up.
Maybe he wasn’t coming at all.
Ding Benxuan was right—Wen Bairan didn’t want to get drunk too early, but Qiao Yi was really good at pushing drinks, and before she knew it, Wen Bairan was starting to feel buzzed.
Especially once they started playing games like hot potato, and she ended up drinking every round.
Of course, she lost again this round.
She shot Ding Benxuan a look, hoping he’d add more ice to her glass, but he misunderstood, stood up, snatched her cup, and chugged it.
“President Xiang, President Qiao, you can’t bully Sister Ran like this! No way, I can’t stand by and watch! I’ll drink for her from now on!”
“Ooh, ooh, ooh! Now that's what I'm talking about!” Qiao Yi had been waiting for this. “Do you know the rules for being a drinking proxy? Need me to remind you?”
Xiang Sun was already totally amped up, clapping and cheering. “Three drinks! Substitute drinks mean three rounds!”
“Fine, three it is!” Ding Benxuan didn’t argue; he just went ahead and knocked back two more glasses.
He’d already had quite a bit to drink earlier, and Wen Bairan was worried he’d puke if he kept going at this rate. But there was no stopping him. She suggested they take a break and do some karaoke instead.
Qiao Yi wasn’t having it—who stops playing just because they lose?
Wen Bairan signaled to Ding Benxuan again, urging him to bail her out. This time, he finally understood. “I’ll listen to Sister Ran!” he said, throwing her a wink before hopping up and darting away.
“Hey, you two are impossible!”
He was as agile as Tigger, and Qiao Yi couldn’t catch him, leaving her fuming and cussing up a storm.
Wen Bairan seized the chance to lean back on the sofa and take a breather. She really couldn’t drink anymore.
Ding Benxuan messed with the karaoke controls, then took the stage and started singing.
His voice was distinctive, sounded like an anime character, but to match the song’s depth, he deliberately lowered his tone, resulting in a clumsy, trying too hard to sound deep accent.
Qiao Yi remarked beside her, “This kid can sing too? He's full of surprises.”
Wen Bairan couldn’t make out what he was singing; her stomach churned, and she almost lost it.
She hurriedly stood and headed for the door.
At some point, the room had gotten even more crowded. She barely made it to the exit when she felt sick again.
She pushed against the door.
But the lounge door was heavy, and she had to put her whole body into it.
She overdid it, and her entire body went flying out with the door.
Two pairs of hands grabbed her arms at the same time.
Pulled from front and back, she steadied herself.
“Sister Ran, are you okay?”
She wasn’t processing what was happening and just shook her head.
That made her head spin worse.
She slurred, “Xiao Ding, let go...”
When she looked up, the height didn't match—all she saw was a black dress shirt and a broad chest.
Since when did Ding Benxuan change clothes?
She lifted her gaze a little higher.
The hallway was dimly lit. The tall man in front of her had a cigarette between his lips, his face wreathed in pale smoke. The shadows around his eyes were so cold it felt blood-freezing.
She went still.
Her alcohol-numbed brain hadn’t processed it yet when the grip on her left arm suddenly loosened. Caught off guard, Wen Bairan lurched forward and crashed into his shoulder.
It hurt.
Behind her, Ding Benxuan stammered, panicked and uneasy: “Song... President Song...”