Chapter 7

With Chen Jubai—no, to be more precise, with Jiang Xiaoyu behind Chen Jubai—raising a cat became effortless for Song Wei. From what a cat could or couldn’t eat to how to care for and train it, she had an expert to consult.

Yang Yingqiu, however, was not fond of Snowflake. As always, she found having a cat troublesome. One evening after work, she came home to find a cat tree installed in the living room and nearly lost her temper on the spot.

“Move it to your own room,” she demanded.

Song Wei shamelessly retorted, “I can’t. The handyman drilled it into place.”

Yang Yingqiu shot her a furious glare but had no way to retaliate. From that point on, the living room became a source of daily chaos. Every day, as soon as Principal Yang returned home from work, her first words would be a shout: “Song Wei! Take care of your cat!”

Song Wei would emerge from her room, scoop up the Snowflake tangled around her feet, and respond in a mockingly exaggerated tone, “Little Snowflake, if you want to keep living in this house, you’d better behave and not upset Principal Yang. Got it?”

Yang Yingqiu snorted. “Why don’t you say that to yourself?”

Unbothered, Song Wei grinned. “Half of this house belongs to my dad. You can’t kick me out.”

Yang Yingqiu was fuming all over again.

For the next week, Song Wei fully relaxed. She slept in every morning, lazed around in bed staring at the ceiling or playing with the kitten, ordered takeout when her stomach growled, and spent her afternoons unpacking the luggage she’d brought home. In the evenings, she took leisurely strolls outside.

She did absolutely nothing and thought about nothing, relishing the rare joy of wasted time.

Since the concert, she had gradually moved past the guilt and self-doubt surrounding her layoff. She realized she shouldn’t question her abilities over being laid off—that would truly be letting herself go.

After a week, her mental state was restored. Feeling recharged, Song Wei looked forward to a fresh start and decided to give herself a chance to begin again.

Finding a job was still on her to-do list, but this time, she promised not to overwork herself.

She submitted her resume to Guangnian Tech. After receiving an interview invitation, she thoroughly prepared, feeling about 70% confident.

The next afternoon, Song Wei arrived at Guangnian Tech as scheduled.

The company had a base in the tech park, but its primary office was in the city—a whole commercial building to itself.

A lifelong resident of Nan’an, Song Wei recognized the building on Changning Road. If she remembered correctly, it used to be called Fudong Tower. Now, the sign on top had been changed to Guangnian Tower.

She now firmly believed that this young company, less than ten years old, was thriving under the leadership of its founder and boss, where Zhu Qingfei worked as an employee.

Song Wei had arranged to meet Zhu Qingfei, who came downstairs to greet her and introduced the company as they walked.

“Floors 2 to 10 are for technical and business departments. Floors 11 to 15 are for HR, finance, and other administrative functions. The 19th floor has the cafeteria and gym. Above that are meeting rooms and the CEO’s office. If you’re hired, you’ll probably work on the 7th or 8th floor.” Zhu Qingfei was particularly cheerful. “Wow, we’ll be colleagues soon! We can hang out after work and eat good food together. So exciting!”

After registering at the front desk, Song Wei followed her into the elevator. “I haven’t even passed the interview yet. Don’t celebrate too early.”

“With your resume, there’s no issue. Our CEO values talent and fast-tracks capable people,” Zhu Qingfei said, pointing mischievously at the button for the 22nd floor. “That’s the CEO’s office. If you’re planning to stage any ‘accidental encounters,’ don’t go to the wrong place.”

Song Wei chuckled. “What nonsense are you talking about?”

“I’m not making it up! Our CEO is young, handsome, and single. Plenty of people have their eyes on him. If I didn’t already have someone I like, I’d be in the race.” Zhu Qingfei gave her a sly look, scanning her up and down. “With your looks and figure, a few ‘accidental encounters’ might actually work.”

Ignoring her flights of fancy, Song Wei latched onto the key point. “So, you have someone you like?”

“Ah, well…” Zhu Qingfei quickly changed the subject. “We’re here on the 12th floor. I’ll tell you next time.”

Ever helpful, Zhu Qingfei escorted her directly to HR. Before leaving, she leaned in to whisper, “I’ve spoken with the HR manager, but I’ve only been here six months, so I don’t have much influence. The rest is up to you.”

“I understand. Don’t let me hold you up. Go back to work.”

Once Zhu Qingfei left, Song Wei filled out a form in the waiting area. Afterward, someone escorted her to the interview room.

Her interviewer was the HR manager, Tan Bing. It seemed Zhu Qingfei had mentioned her, as Tan Bing only asked a few basic questions about her resume. Song Wei answered them smoothly. Finally, Tan Bing asked, “Ms. Song, can you share why you left your previous company?”

Prepared for this, Song Wei calmly replied, “My team primarily provided technical solutions for the education and healthcare sectors. Due to a declining consumer market, our workload steadily decreased in recent years. To cut costs, the company decided to discontinue this division.”

Tan Bing nodded in understanding. “Your project experience is excellent. I have no further questions. Please wait a moment. I’ll ask the product director to speak with you.”

“Thank you.”

After Tan Bing left with her resume, Song Wei found herself alone in the interview room.

She sipped water from a disposable cup and glanced around at the walls, which displayed the company’s mission and values: a commitment to building a “dream-like world within reach” and emphasizing core values like ambition and collaboration.

Corporate culture wasn’t just slogans on walls. When done right, it became an invisible force shaping every employee’s behavior.

Nearly half an hour later, there was a knock at the door. Song Wei straightened her posture.

The man who entered appeared to be in his thirties and wore glasses. His sharp gaze behind the lenses made an impression.

Song Wei recalled her previous product director, a young and highly competent woman named Andy. Andy had been approachable, despite the workplace norm that equated authority with rigidity. Yet, she thrived, earning the respect of everyone in the company.

Song Wei often considered herself lucky to have had such a mentor early in her career, someone who kept her from adopting toxic work habits.

She wasn’t a corporate shark. Her networking skills were average, and she wasn’t one to curry favor. Her progress so far came from sharp market insights, meticulous execution, and solid work relationships, allowing her to advance steadily.

Taking a step back to view the situation objectively, being laid off and forced out by her direct supervisor stemmed from her own initial choices. There was no one else to blame—not others, not the environment.

A man seated himself across from her, maintaining a calm expression as he introduced himself, “Hello, Ms. Song. I’m Jiang Zhendong, Product Director at Guangnian.”

“Hello, Director Jiang,” Song Wei replied politely.

Jiang Zhendong got straight to the point. “Did you develop the ‘Smart Education’ platform?”

“Yes,” she confirmed.

“What was its market share?”

“Smart Education” was the first project Song Wei had handled independently, just one year after entering the industry. During that period, she practically lived at the company, pouring her heart and soul into the project. Upon its launch, it received a strong market response and high user satisfaction, filling her with a sense of accomplishment.

However, two years later, the training industry underwent significant cuts. When user contracts expired, many chose not to renew, and the company stopped updating the platform. By the time she left the company, “Smart Education” was already in decline.

These details were publicly available, so Song Wei couldn’t hide them. “At its peak during the growth phase, the market share reached 15%. Afterward, due to a rapidly contracting market environment, it has been steadily withdrawing from the market.”

“So, it was eliminated during the growth phase. In essence, all the resources the company invested were wasted.”

“…Yes.” No matter the reasons, it was true—the company’s resources and her own effort were both wasted.

Jiang Zhendong closed her resume, crossed his right leg over his left, and adjusted his glasses. “Tan Bing mentioned that you were laid off?”

“Yes.”

Song Wei sat up straight, her inner assessment of the interview already concluding.

This was the harsh reality of the industry: if a product performed well in the market, the credit went to the technology and operations team. If it failed, the blame landed squarely on the product team. It was an inescapable fate.

Now, with the added label of being laid off, she knew how others would perceive her: as someone who lacked competence.

The real reason for her business unit’s discontinuation might appear to others as just another excuse anyone could use.

Song Wei didn’t agree with this perception but accepted the reality. If Guangnian Technology’s HR and product department were equally shallow, she doubted the company would be much good, and the “talent-valuing” boss her friend Zhu Qingfei mentioned was probably just lip service.

At this point, her enthusiasm and expectations for joining this company had evaporated. She just wanted the interview to end quickly.

But Jiang Zhendong pressed on. “I heard your company had an internal mobility system. Did you give up that opportunity?”

“Yes, I wanted to return to my hometown.”

Jiang Zhendong raised his eyes cautiously from behind his glasses. “To get married?”

“…” Song Wei suppressed the urge to roll her eyes, keeping her expression calm. “Not at the moment. But marriage and having children are part of my future plans. If your company is only looking for a woman who will never take maternity leave, then I might not be the right fit.”

Jiang Zhendong caught the sharpness in her words but remained unfazed. “Maternity leave is a woman’s right, but let me be honest with you.” He adjusted his glasses again. “Ms. Song, your resume is impressive. However, returning to your hometown at a marriageable age, along with your stated plans for marriage and children, naturally raises concerns we must consider.”

Song Wei smiled. “Director Jiang, are you aware that what you just said violates the Law on the Protection of Women’s Rights and Interests?”

Jiang Zhendong seemed unconcerned and didn’t respond to her remark. “Ms. Song, that concludes today’s interview. We’ll notify you of the results within three working days.”

When she was alone in the interview room again, Song Wei let out a deep sigh.

She knew job hunting was hard but hadn’t expected it to be this hard.

What did she need to do? Get married first, then have children, just to find work? Even then, one child might not be enough—she’d probably need two before someone rejected her for taking too long of a career break.

How ironic.

Grabbing her bag, she left.

Breathing in the crisp outdoor air, she glanced back at the towering 20-story building and thought to herself, It just wasn’t meant to be.

….

On her way home, Song Wei vented to Zhu Qingfei, who was equally shocked.

“Sorry, Weiwei. I’m not familiar with the product department, so I didn’t know Jiang Zhendong was like this. I’ll talk to HR again,” Zhu Qingfei offered, then added, “Or, would you consider joining our department? I swear, our boss is nothing like him.”

Zhu Qingfei worked in operations, and transitioning from product to operations wasn’t impossible, but Song Wei still wanted to hold out. “I’ll look at other companies first.”

“Yeah, sure. There are plenty of good companies in Nan’an, even branches of big firms. Take your time; no rush.”

“I know, I’m fine,” Song Wei replied.

Despite her words, once home, Song Wei couldn’t help feeling a bit down. If it were her own shortcomings, she wouldn’t mind, but it wasn’t—it was about being laid off and workplace discrimination, something entirely out of her control.

Her parents, Yang Yingqiu and Song Gaoyi, weren’t home, likely avoiding each other by working late. Song Wei didn’t want to deal with it anymore.

She leaned back on the sofa, planning to sort out dinner.

After such an energy-draining day, she desperately needed something high-calorie to fill her empty stomach.

Not long after placing an order for fried chicken, Chen Jubai messaged her, saying the cat food had arrived and asking when she could pick it up.

Her kitten, Snowflake, had a picky appetite. Having been a stray for a few days, its stomach wasn’t in great shape. The hastily chosen cat food she had bought wasn’t suitable. Jiang Xiaoyu had recommended a better brand, but the online price was steep, so she asked Chen Jubai to buy it through a rescue center channel.

Song Wei didn’t feel right asking him to deliver it, so she suggested finding a time to pick it up.

In the past week or so, their contact had been minimal, limited almost entirely to cat-related topics. They were barely acquainted, having met only a few times as part of a blind date setup, making them more like online cat-raising partners.

Still, she could tell he was genuinely busy—messages sent in the morning were answered by noon, and those sent at night were answered late at night. But, thankfully, he always replied.

When she didn’t reply for a while, her phone rang. Song Wei stared at the incoming call request, hesitated for a few seconds, and then answered.

A calm, clear voice came through. “Have you eaten?”

“No, I ordered fried chicken.”

“Fried chicken?”

Hearing the skepticism in his tone, Song Wei could almost imagine his frown. She explained, “Bad mood. I wanted something high-calorie.”

“What happened?”

“Had an interview. Not happy about it.”

“Didn’t pass?”

“Probably not. Even if I did, I wouldn’t want to go.” She was still fuming.

“Why?”

Thinking about Jiang Zhendong from the interview filled her with frustration, and she spilled everything. “That product director was awful—discriminating against layoffs and women. I don’t want to work with someone like that. I initially had a good impression of the company, but today completely changed my mind.”

Chen Jubai said, “You can always choose another company. With your experience and background, there’s no need to settle for a mediocre one.”

“Exactly.” Song Wei hugged Snowflake, her legs crossed, and her tone turned defiant. “Their loss!”

“I’ll help you see which companies are hiring for your position,” Chen Jubai offered, hesitating slightly before adding, “If you’d like, you could join my company.”

“Does your company have product positions open?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll ask tomorrow.” Chen Jubai, who was no longer involved in company operations, genuinely didn’t know. “But if you want to join, it won’t be a problem.”

“…I’m not going.” They weren’t even in a relationship yet, and he was already offering her a job? That would be too much.

Realizing his suggestion might have been inappropriate, Chen Jubai changed the subject. “Which company did you interview with today? I’ll see if we have any business connections.”

“Guangnian Technology. Ever heard of it?”

On the 22nd floor of Guangnian Tower, in an office with floor-to-ceiling windows, a tall, upright man suddenly froze.