Chapter 4: Workplace Troubles  

Zhao Chen’s meticulous “feeding” and “chauffeur service” were like warm honey, silently melting the icy wall labeled “agreement” in Yu Ling’s heart into a pool of warmth.  

She had grown accustomed to the aroma wafting from the kitchen in the morning, the flowing melodies of Debussy in the passenger seat, the timely bowl of warm porridge delivered during late-night overtime, and even the sight of him—focused to the point of sternness—chopping vegetables with precision while wearing that little whale apron. The initial wariness had long been replaced by the comfort of routine, transforming into a secret dependence.  

Only occasionally, when Zhao Chen’s expensive “friend’s car” glided past a street corner, or when a glimpse of documents bearing complex English acronyms slipped through the crack of his study door, would that tiny seed of doubt stir restlessly—only to be soothed back into submission by the gentle rhythm of daily life.  

This fragile peace was utterly shattered on that Monday morning.  

Genesis Tower, 17th Floor, Starlight Tech Marketing Department.  

Yu Ling walked briskly, holding a cup of hot water. The weekend had been pleasant—she and Zhao Chen had watched a good movie and dined at a “friend-recommended” divine private kitchen. Her mood was bright, and she even entertained the thought of clumsily attempting to cook that evening as a small repayment for Chef Zhao. The intern at the neighboring desk, Xiao Mei, greeted her warmly, “Morning, Ling-jie!”  

“Morning, Xiao Mei,” Yu Ling replied with a smile, setting down her cup and tapping the power button with a light fingertip.  

The screen lit up, and a bold, red-marked email sprang up like a venomous snake: **[Urgent Notice: Final Confirmation and Task Allocation for the ‘Star Ocean Project’ Promotion Plan]**.  

Yu Ling’s heart plummeted. This was her brainchild, the result of countless sleepless nights she had spearheaded! A decision already?  

She opened the email. Director Chen’s bureaucratic jargon blurred past her vision as her gaze locked onto the clear division of labor listed at the bottom of the attachment:  

**Project Lead:** Zhang Wei (Senior Marketing Manager)  

**Chief Planner & Core Framework Designer:** Zhang Wei  

**Data Analysis Support:** Li Ming  

…  

**Basic Data Collection & Organization:** Yu Ling  

Her name was pinned—isolated—to “Basic Data Collection & Organization”! Meanwhile, the proposal she had poured her soul into had been blatantly rebranded as Zhang Wei’s “Chief Planner” achievement!  

A frigid chill instantly froze her blood. She jerked her head up, her gaze sharp as a poisoned icicle, piercing toward the glass cubicle diagonally across from her.  

Zhang Wei was there, holding an exquisite coffee cup, chatting and laughing with Director Chen. Her pristine beige suit, meticulously styled chestnut curls, and the smug curve of her red lips all radiated triumph. Sensing Yu Ling’s glare, she turned slightly, meeting the burning fury head-on—not with fear, but with a deliberate, taunting lift of her brow and a smirk dripping with undisguised disdain and satisfaction. Her eyes seemed to say: *Yours? Now it’s mine. What can you do about it?*  

Plagiarism! Brazen! Lightning-fast!  

Humiliation and rage seized Yu Ling by the throat. She shot to her feet, her chair screeching violently against the floor! Colleagues around her turned in surprise.  

“Ling-jie?” Xiao Mei called out in concern.

Yu Ling took a deep breath, her nails digging into her palms, using the pain to suppress the urge to rush forward and tear into a fight. Zhang Wei was Director Chen’s right-hand woman, deeply entrenched in the company. Without evidence, an open confrontation would only lead to her own destruction. She stiffly sat back down and closed the glaring email. Her desktop wallpaper was a casual weekend snapshot of the city’s nightscape, its dazzling lights now feeling like silent mockery. After the anger came a chilling despair. It’s over. Months of hard work, the right to claim authorship, her future—all ruined by that bitch! What should she do?!

The entire morning, Yu Ling felt as if she had fallen into an icy abyss.

From the glass partition, Zhang Wei and Director Chen loudly praised how “her” proposal was nothing short of brilliant. Her ideas, her creativity, now spilled from Zhang Wei’s lips—adorned with expensive lipstick—transformed into “visionary foresight” and “strategic insight.”

The glances her colleagues cast at Zhang Wei were full of admiration, while those directed at Yu Ling carried a barely perceptible mix of sympathy and schadenfreude. The workplace had no room for tears—only winners and losers.

Yu Ling bit her lower lip hard, forcing her fingers to type meaningless characters on the keyboard, her vision blurred. Resentment, fury, indignation, and despair coiled around her heart like poisonous vines.

During lunch break, as the chatter faded, Xiao Mei hesitantly asked, “Ling-jie, want to grab lunch?”

“Not hungry. You guys go ahead,” Yu Ling forced out a broken smile.

The vast office area instantly fell into dead silence. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, falling on her, yet she felt no warmth. Finally, she could hold on no longer and buried her face deep in her arms. The tears she had suppressed all morning surged forth, soaking her sleeves. It’s over. Everything’s over. Who can help me?

Her phone vibrated in her pocket. Yu Ling grabbed it like a lifeline. On the screen, Zhao Chen’s profile picture blinked—wearing a little whale apron, holding a steaming plate, his smile gentle and harmless.

**[ZhaoC]:** Had lunch yet? New Cantonese place downstairs—their roast goose leg looks amazing? [Image: a glistening, mouthwatering roast goose leg]

That familiar, down-to-earth concern, that picture that seemed to still radiate warmth, instantly shattered Yu Ling’s last defenses. Her fingers trembling, she almost instinctively pressed the voice call button.

The call connected instantly.

“Hey? Lingling?” Zhao Chen’s gentle voice came through, carrying a barely detectable tension. “What’s wrong? You sound… off.”

“Zhao Chen…” The moment Yu Ling spoke, her voice cracked under the weight of tears and despair. “My proposal… that bitch Zhang Wei stole it! She plagiarized it! Even erased my name! And now she’s flaunting it there…” Her words tumbled out incoherently as she poured out the morning’s ordeal, sobbing uncontrollably.

A brief silence followed on the other end. Yu Ling could picture his slightly furrowed brows, the faint glint of something cold beneath those warm amber eyes.

“Don’t cry, Lingling.” His voice remained steady, like a warm hand soothing her back, carrying an oddly calming strength. “Are you at the office?”

“Yeah…” Yu Ling sniffled and nodded.

“Do you have forwarding records of the email? All drafts of the proposal, revision logs, communication history with the director—do you still have them?” Zhao Chen’s questions were sharp, methodical, cutting straight to the core, yanking Yu Ling out of her emotional quagmire.

“Yes! All of it!” Yu Ling perked up. “The sent folder has records! Local files and cloud storage have every version! Even the WeChat logs with Director Chen show submissions and discussions!”

“Good.” Zhao Chen’s voice carried a hint of approving firmness. “Now, stay calm. Tears and anger are the enemy’s weapons.”

“But she—”

“Lingling,” Zhao Chen interrupted her, his voice quiet yet carrying an undeniable sense of authority, “charging at her right now to tear her apart would be the stupidest choice. It would only make things worse and leave those who want to help you with no way to intervene.”

Yu Ling froze. “Then… what should I do?”

“Having evidence is your trump card. But how to play it requires strategy.” Zhao Chen’s voice sounded like he was analyzing a meticulously planned battle. “Going straight to the director or higher-ups to report her? Too risky. Zhang Wei is Director Chen’s protege—he’ll most likely defend her, even accuse you of framing her. Even if the higher-ups step in and punish Zhang Wei, you’ll be labeled a ‘troublemaker’ in the department, ruining your career prospects.”

Yu Ling’s heart sank to the depths. He was right—the workplace wasn’t a courtroom.

“So… just endure it?” she asked hoarsely, unwilling to accept it.