Chapter 47: Endure
Each word stabbed into Wen Ruoxian's heart, dull and painful. Afraid of succumbing to her softened heart, she replied dismissively, "No."
A glimmer of hope lit up in Song Qingluo's eyes. "Then, can I still come back?"
"Don't discuss personal matters during work hours."
After saying this, Wen Ruoxian fled back to the office.
She was flustered and embarrassed.
Leaning against the door, she let out a long sigh of relief.
If she had waited another second, perhaps she would have softened and compromised. Thinking of Qingluo by her side every day, face to face, intimate and inseparable, made her feel more conflicted than when the window paper was torn. Yet, she felt that what she did was right.
She pressed her ear against the door, carefully listening to the sounds outside. Whether someone had left or the soundproofing was just too good, she couldn't hear anything.
It didn't matter.
Don’t think about it.
She returned to the table and sat down, continuing to check emails.
The screen was filled with densely packed letters. As she looked, suddenly, Song Qingluo's flushed hand back floated into her mind. Her attention was instantly captured, and she fell into a daze.
[No one gave me any... ]
[I've been busy all afternoon and didn't have time to buy one.]
The woman's aggrieved tone and sadness lingered in her ears.
Those hands had to be moisturized with caviar cream every morning and evening. Every other day she wore a hand mask, and every week she went to the beauty salon for specialized care. Her skin was delicate and tender, like ice-cold, jade-like beauty.
They were hands that played the violin.
How could they end up burned like that...
Suddenly, it occurred to her that this might be Song Qingluo's strategy. Manipulation? Playing clever tricks? Intentionally burning herself, running over to make her feel distressed.
Someone with a history is very likely to do such a thing.
Should she believe her?
Even though Qingluo had said she wouldn't lie to her again.
After struggling with these thoughts, Wen Ruoxian grew restless. Unable to focus on her emails for half the day, she grabbed her phone and tried to message Cheng Suran.
[Ranran, did you ask Qingluo to make tea? Her hand got burned, and I got her some medicine. Don't let her do anything for now...] She typed out these words, then hesitated, her fingertips hovering over the screen.
What was she doing?
Poking her nose into everything, acting like she still had to listen to her even though she wasn't her secretary anymore? A secretary once fired is like water poured out, what does she have to do with it?
But she had genuinely worried all afternoon.
Worried that Qingluo was too used to being around her and might not adapt well at Ranran's place, with her stubborn and proud temper, she might inevitably face difficulties. Yet, thinking that she was after all President Song's daughter, Ranran would probably give her some face... Who knew she ended up burning her hand?
Truly, she couldn't relax.
Thinking of this, Wen Ruoxian deleted everything she had written and typed anew: [How is she doing? Qingluo hasn't caused you any trouble, has she?]
Not long after, Cheng Suran replied: [She's doing great. Secretary Song is especially diligent. She remade tea for me four or five times until she got the temperature just right. She's very patient, and I quite like her.]
“...”
Wen Ruoxian suddenly realized.
Last year, Jiang Yu bought Ranran a multifunctional tea maker for the office, which was a bit complicated to operate but brewed tea with a delicate and rich taste. The first time using it could be easily misunderstood, perhaps that's why Qingluo accidentally burned her hand.
But it shouldn't have led to brewing four or five cups repeatedly.
At her place, Qingluo brewed tea casually—she wasn't particular; if it was drinkable, she drank it; if not, she brewed another batch.
In an instant, a strange feeling surged within her. It was as if at home, she was soothing and cherishing a beloved child, but elsewhere, she was an unloved wild sapling. Someone she had cared for so meticulously and protected in every way didn't seem valued by others.
No, this line of thinking was wrong. Work was work; Ranran wasn't obligated to pamper Qingluo.
Why was she acting like an old mother?
Wen Ruoxian sighed, feeling even more troubled, and quickly replied to Cheng Suran.
In a blink, several days passed.
Putting all her energy into work, time slipped by like water.
During the day, there was no sight of Song Qingluo around, and at night, home felt empty too—ever since that day, Wen Ruoxian had asked Song Qingluo to move back to her own place. Perhaps feeling guilty, Qingluo didn't resist or negotiate and obediently moved out.
It was quieter now, more peaceful.
Yet, her heart felt like a piece had been hollowed out.
The cool breeze blew in, chilly and piercing, and after the tidal wave receded, a bitter aftertaste lingered.
The peace she wanted, the freedom she desired, had unknowingly become torment.
At first, she only occasionally thought of her. Later, she frequently checked her Moments, but since that day, there had been no updates. She controlled herself, not asking Cheng Suran, and only replied to Song Qingluo's messages without initiating any inquiries.
Inexplicably, she found herself fighting with herself…
….
Ever since becoming Cheng Suran's secretary, Song Qingluo hadn't had a single easy day.
On days when the boss wasn't on a business trip, Song Qingluo had to arrive at the office on time in the morning, first brewing a pot of tea. On odd days, it was black goji berries and mulberries; on even days, dandelions and roses, with the temperature needing precise control. After learning to use the machine, it was relatively easier, though attention to detail was still necessary.
Then she started processing documents, which meant sharing Assistant Meng's tasks. This included checking contracts, preparing meeting materials, and learning to write special reports and speeches—
Cheng Suran often represented the company at various events, such as interviews, speeches, and forums, always in the spotlight. Therefore, she paid extra attention to her image management, and consequently, Song Qingluo was also required to avoid being "flashy" and to be "proper."
In this aspect, she truly was the Old-fashioned's good sister.
Additionally, Song Qingluo had to learn video editing.
Like Wen Ruoxian, Cheng Suran had personal work on the side. She ran a social media account, regularly and systematically posting content. Sometimes it was related to her profession, other times it was sharing useful tips. She knew how to attract traffic, understood marketing, and played the game well.
Song Qingluo busied herself with all this, though tired, she never complained.
She saw it as a punishment for herself.
A liar must swallow ten thousand needles. She didn't swallow needles; she buried herself in work, even if the value she created was very small.
Mid-May came, and the weather started to heat up.
After lunch, Song Qingluo lay on her desk for a brief nap. The hard surface of the desk was uncomfortable, causing her to feel sore and unable to sleep.
At times like these, she deeply missed being beside Wen Ruoxian.
Ruoxian would let her sleep on the office sofa, a large modular sofa that was like a small bed, soft and comfortable. Ruoxian would even cover her with a blanket, and pull the curtains to dim the light since she didn't like wearing eye masks. Upon waking, fresh fruits would be waiting for her...
Cheng Suran, on the other hand, was different. Always so stingy, not even letting her lie down on the big sofa for a while when it wasn't even work hours! Absolutely harsh! Assistant Meng at least had a folding bed.
She felt worse the more she thought about it, dragging herself until two o'clock, struggling to stay awake as she turned on her computer.
Cheng Suran had instructed her that morning to finish editing the short film.
Her phone displayed Friday's date.
Only four hours left until quitting time! Thinking of this, Song Qingluo remembered again that Wen Ruoxian would come to Cheng Suran's place every Friday, where they would review their weekly work. She could see her, though they couldn't really talk...
Footsteps approached down the hallway.
"Xiao Song," Cheng Suran returned from outside, smiling broadly, her face full of spring breeze. "Is the film edited?"
Song Qingluo's thoughts were interrupted, and she looked up blankly. "Ah? Not yet."
This morning, Cheng Suran went to participate in filming an industry promotional video. The scene was filled with big names from the industry, and behind the scenes were her former colleagues from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.
She had a slightly heavier makeup on her face, meticulously styled her hair, and wore a dress in vivid and charming colors. With a smile, faint dimples appeared on her cheeks, making her appear gentle and approachable.
Only Song Qingluo knew she was a smiling tiger.
Compared to Manager Cao, she was even more terrifying!
In contrast, Wen Ruoxian was much gentler and purer, dressed plainly in basic colors with minimal accessories, looking clean and neat, and maintaining a dignified and cultured appearance.
She thought everything about Ruoxian was good.
She started missing her again...
"Three hours," Cheng Suran glanced at her watch, saying lightly, "Your efficiency is really low, wasting time means wasting money."
Song Qingluo retorted quietly, "I just learned, I'm already trying my best."
"The best feedback for effort is the result."
"I know..."
"I'll give you another hour, can you finish editing?"
"I... think so."
Cheng Suran, regardless of whether she was certain or not, assumed she could. "Alright, finish editing and give me yesterday's draft."
"Okay."
Song Qingluo obediently nodded.
She watched her enter the office and grimaced behind her back:
Screwing over capitalists, bullying the workers.
Although she was annoyed inside, she had work to do. Song Qingluo rushed to finish the remaining short film within an hour and submitted it to Cheng Suran.
It passed inspection on the first go.
But the document wasn't so lucky.
Yesterday, Cheng Suran asked her to write it in English. Today, after only a few lines, she shook her head. There were grammar mistakes here, and ambiguities in word choice there. After two revisions, she still wasn't satisfied. She decided to have her sit opposite her and watch as she made the changes.
"You studied abroad in England, didn't you? Why are there grammar mistakes?"
Song Qingluo was on the verge of tears, "I'm human, not a machine. It's impossible to be 100% correct."
"So after you finish writing, you should check carefully. When you truly put your heart into something, you won't overlook details," Cheng Suran said seriously.
“CEO Cheng, since you are proficient in languages, why not write it yourself? It saves time and effort, and you won't always be dissatisfied."
"Are you arguing with me?"
"This is called finding a solution," Song Qingluo corrected, "Time wasted by me is also a cost, isn't it?"
She's quite the talker.
She hit back with a quick comeback.
Cheng Suran was amused, "If I had time to write it myself, what would I need a secretary for?"
“Don't you have the time now?"
"Alright, revise it again. Whatever changes are made, I'll polish it."
Song Qingluo didn't argue further and obediently lowered her head.
This time, she meticulously checked and replaced all the advanced vocabulary she could think of. After reading it three times, she was about to hand it to Cheng Suran when her phone, placed nearby, lit up—
It was a news notification.
On the wallpaper, Wen Ruoxian's face was incredibly clear.
Cheng Suran glanced inadvertently and froze for a moment. She looked at Song Qingluo, who happened to be looking at her phone. Their eyes met.
"..."
Song Qingluo looked flustered, quickly grabbed her phone, and turned it upside down on the table.
Cheng Suran cleared her throat lightly, casually looked away, and after a while, heard Song Qingluo say, "I've finished revising."
The laptop screen turned toward her.
It’s enough, she thought, glanced briefly, and nodded, "It's fine."
Song Qingluo breathed a sigh of relief, "If there's nothing else..." As she spoke, she carefully picked up her phone, the screen facing her palm, and put it in her pocket.
"Miss Song."
“Mm?"
Cheng Suran observed her actions, her gaze profound, "Do you feel stifled working under me?"
Song Qingluo was stunned.
Does this person have mind-reading abilities?
It's over, she's seen through. How does she come up with excuses? Should she complain to Ruoxian?
"Of course not. I think it's quite good."
"Making you do trivial tasks repeatedly, constantly learning new things, strict demands without mercy. It's completely different from being by Ms. Wen's side, right?"
“...”
"Ms. Wen would coax you, cater to everything you want, know your temper, understand your preferences, tolerate and accommodate you," Cheng Suran said casually, but her expression was somewhat distant as if recalling something from the distant past.
Song Qingluo had a bad feeling.
Could she have been found out?
Was it because of the phone wallpaper, or... Oh no, why was she so careless? If it's revealed that she likes Ruoxian, wouldn't it indirectly out Ruoxian?
With her heart in her throat, she forced a smile, "It might be because of my mother. She has worked with President Wen before, so President Wen tends to look after me a bit more."
Cheng Suran's gaze was piercing, but she didn't press further, just stared at her for a while. "I'm heading to Ms. Wen's office now. Are you coming?"
She smiled and stood up.
Unable to resist the temptation, "Yes" squeezed out from Song Qingluo's throat. Suddenly, she remembered something and abruptly halted, shaking her head, "No... Today is Friday, won't President Wen come over?"
"If she doesn't come, I'll go to her."
"Oh..." Her profound disappointment was hard to conceal.
Cheng Suran tempted her again, "Are you really not coming with me?"
Song Qingluo remained firm, "I'm not going."
"Alright." Cheng Suran didn't insist, picked up her laptop, "Organize the documents needed for the meeting. Go directly to the main conference room at four o'clock."
"Mm."
After seeing off Cheng Suran, Song Qingluo returned to her own workstation and sat down.
Her heart itched as if a thousand ants were gnawing at it.
She wanted to go, to see Ruoxian. Their last meeting was two days ago, just a brief passing glance, but since then, she had been nearly driven mad with longing.
But she couldn't.
Cheng Suran's words were clearly probing, indicating she might have sensed something. There were suspicions, her relationship with Ruoxian was strained, and Song Qingluo wasn't sure of Ruoxian's feelings either. She couldn't afford to be reckless.
She had to endure it.
For Ruoxian.
….
At four o'clock sharp, Song Qingluo arrived at the main conference room five minutes early, adjusting equipment and checking materials.
Managers arrived one after another, and just a minute before the meeting, Cheng Suran entered through the door, followed closely by Wen Ruoxian—seeing her, Song Qingluo was so excited she almost shouted.
"Ruo..." The single syllable almost choked back down.
Glancing around, thankfully, no one noticed her.
Her heart raced rapidly.
Song Qingluo stared intently at Wen Ruoxian, watching her take her seat. Suddenly, Wen Ruoxian's gaze swept over and landed on Song Qingluo's face.
Song Qingluo held her breath.
But after just a second or two, Wen Ruoxian looked away again.
The meeting was about to begin. Song Qingluo knew she shouldn't linger any longer, but she was reluctant to leave. Subconsciously slowing her pace as she walked away, her eyes stuck on Wen Ruoxian.
"Xiao Song," Cheng Suran called out to her.
"?"
"Come over here."
Song Qingluo thought she might stay after all, and turned back with a mix of surprise and joy.
"Two days ago, I asked you to download and print the datasheet?" Cheng Suran tapped the table with her fingertips, seeming displeased with her preparation.
"What data sheet?" Song Qingluo asked blankly.
"The PDF format, the one with the daily active users on the website."
"Oh, I thought we wouldn't need it... I'll go get it now." Under everyone's scrutiny, she hurried out, swiftly retrieved the documents, and placed them in front of Cheng Suran.
"Why did you convert it to Word format? I specifically asked for it to be printed in its original format, this is very inconvenient now."
"We've always converted it before."
“That was before," Cheng Suran's expression was gentle, but her tone carried a tone of criticism, "You've been a secretary for so long, you should know which format is convenient for what situation. You should be adaptable. Can't you handle such a small matter properly?"
Silence filled the room.
All eyes were on Song Qingluo.
Everyone knew Secretary Song, who had transferred from Wen to Cheng, making it difficult to inquire about the boss' affairs. While no one speculated on complex matters, there were some rumors and speculations.
"I'm sorry, it was my negligence," Song Qingluo said, head bowed, face burning red.
In all her years, this was the first time she had been criticized in public. Her strong sense of pride and innate arrogance made her want to quit immediately. But thinking of Wen Ruoxian here, and wanting to show herself as better, no matter how much anger or grievance, it was all forced inside.
Cheng Suran's eyes showed no emotions, pointing to the door, "Print another copy in the original format."
"Okay."
Song Qingluo silently left the room.
A few minutes later, during the ongoing meeting, she returned with the freshly printed documents, not daring to lift her head, and carefully placed them beside Cheng Suran.
"CEO Cheng, in the original format."
"What about the electronic version? I haven't received your email. Did you send it?"
"I did."
"Where is it?" Cheng Suran turned the computer towards her, showing the inbox page filled with numerous work emails, overwhelming to look at. Song Qingluo searched for a while but couldn't find it. Under everyone's watchful eyes, she felt anxious and nervous, sweat breaking out on her forehead and neck.
"I remember sending it to you..."
"Don't rely on 'I remember' for everything. When there's a heavy workload, memory can fail. You've been a secretary for a while now, haven't you learned to use a memo pad? Record each task as you complete it, it can save a lot of unnecessary trouble." Cheng Suran remained gentle in tone but her words were sharp.
Everyone's attention turned back to Song Qingluo.
Next to her, Wen Ruoxian frowned, glanced at Cheng Suran, then at Song Qingluo, her hands tightening unconsciously inside her sleeves.
"If you can't find it, resend it."
"I'm sure it's there."
"You're wasting everyone's time."
"I..." Song Qingluo gritted her teeth, feeling unwilling to accept it.
Wen Ruoxian, beside her, couldn't sit still any longer and spoke up at the right moment, "Forget it, the electronic version isn't absolutely necessary. Just be more careful next time. Go and get busy.”
Author's Note:
Old-fashioned Wen: Protect the wife.jpg.
There will be an update tomorrow evening, and red envelopes will continue to be sent out today~