Chapter Fifty-One: So Many Layers of Meaning

Leaning against her bed, Yuan Zhong studied the lengthy contract in detail. The document had been reviewed by the company’s legal department and followed a standard template.

No, she admitted, it would be difficult for her alone to spot anything unusual. After a moment’s consideration, she dialed Lin Hui’s number. It was important to learn how to leverage the best resources at her school.

Lin Hui’s professor had introduced a student from another instructor—a law major named Miao Shu.

Hmm, the name was a bit... peculiar.

Yuan Zhong explained the specifics of her situation. Miao Shu scrutinized a few points and examined the contract’s fine print.

“What’s your company’s attitude toward this writer?” Miao Shu asked.

“We value him highly, of course. I suspect this issue with the deadline was simply overlooked before. Now, for some reason, it’s been brought up,” Yuan Zhong replied.

“Interesting!” Miao Shu mused. “If your company—or rather, the parent company—has no ulterior motives, it would be easy to amend the contract. Changing it is simple as long as both parties agree. But from what you’ve said, if someone has deliberately uncovered this now, it’s not so straightforward. It suggests someone wants to make an issue of it.”

“So what should we do? Judging by the required word count, there’s no way it can be finished by the end of this year,” Yuan Zhong said.

“Then let it be unfinished—see what happens next. Aren’t you curious?” Miao Shu sounded almost eager for chaos.

“Ah!” Yuan Zhong thought to herself, it’s not just the name that’s odd—could she trust this person’s expertise?

“Mmm, Yuan Zhong, right? Your name is... quite distinctive. Let me ask, which side are you really on?” Miao Shu inquired.

“Which side? I’m currently responsible for liaising with the author, so of course I want him to complete his work,” Yuan Zhong grumbled inwardly—your name is the one that’s ‘distinctive’.

“But are you certain your company wants him to finish?” Miao Shu pressed.

“My company?” Yuan Zhong was puzzled. “Of course they want him to finish.”

“Are you sure? If it were such a minor issue, why not just change the contract date? Why hasn’t anyone done that, and instead is hounding the author?” Miao Shu asked.

“Well...” Indeed, if even I could spot the date was wrong, why not just amend it? Why press the author instead? Yuan Zhong was momentarily stunned.

“Hmm, you’re starting to get it? So, ask yourself—which side are you on? From the company’s perspective, just let things be: if the author breaches the contract, the company takes back the story’s rights. But if you’re on the author’s side...”

Yuan Zhong fell silent.

Miao Shu, too, waited patiently without speaking.

“Or perhaps this is the parent company’s intention, and there’s nothing our small branch can do?” Yuan Zhong muttered to herself.

Miao Shu, of course, gave no answer.

Yuan Zhong added, “If it’s the parent company’s will, then... but why? He’s a popular author—talented and hardworking.”

She couldn’t understand what the company would gain by making him breach the contract.

“You’ve just graduated, you’re still new to this. Figure out what your superiors really want, and don’t do anything you shouldn’t,” Miao Shu advised.

Those words struck Yuan Zhong, prompting her to resolve to ask the Chief Editor about it.

Yes, she was timid by nature; in the past, she would never have dared to ask. But this time, she had to summon her courage—she needed answers.

Wang Shanshan had been her mentor, and likely understood most of this, but Yuan Zhong knew she wouldn’t tell her anything.

The Chief Editor was different—after all, he’d interviewed her, approved her hiring, and entrusted her with this very task. Surely, he’d share at least something.

The next morning, Yuan Zhong arrived at the company early as usual, “accidentally” running into the Chief Editor in the break room.

“Good morning, Chief Editor,” she greeted him.

In her observation, she and the Chief Editor were always the earliest to arrive at the office. Their timings were similar. Usually, Yuan Zhong avoided him, waiting until he’d finished making his tea before entering the break room herself, unsure how to approach a superior.

“Good morning, Yuan,” the Chief Editor replied with a genial smile.

He seemed approachable, Yuan Zhong thought, likely a good person.

“Chief Editor, I’m making tea today as well. This is a new variety—a family member sent it from their own tea garden. Would you like to try some?” Yuan Zhong shook the box in her hand. “It’s called ‘Five Mouths Fresh’.”

“Oh? That’s quite a unique name,” the Chief Editor remarked, glancing at the box.

“Yes, I don’t drink much tea myself, so I’m not sure if it’s good. But I found it interesting that they used the word ‘fresh’ instead of the usual ‘fragrant’,” Yuan Zhong replied.

“Let me have a look,” the Chief Editor said, taking the box with interest. He inspected and sniffed the tea. “This is good tea!”

“Really? Then let’s brew some and have a taste,” Yuan Zhong suggested.

“It would be a shame to make it hastily here. I have a proper tea set in my office—let’s do this properly,” the Chief Editor said, seeming quite enthusiastic.

Perfect! Yuan Zhong rejoiced silently.

Following his instructions, she fetched the electric kettle, filled it with mineral water, and set it to heat.

She sat at the guest table, watching as the Chief Editor poured the leaves into a purple clay teapot.

“When I have time, I always make kung fu tea—I have all the proper utensils,” he said.

“Thank you. I’m lucky to enjoy it today,” Yuan Zhong replied.

As the water boiled, she chatted about the location of the tea garden and some details about their family’s cultivation and tea-making.

The Chief Editor nodded, “That’s good. With new teas, especially, there’s always the concern of pesticide residue.”

When the water was ready, Yuan Zhong moved to pour, but the Chief Editor waved her off. “Allow me—you just sit and enjoy.”

She watched him deftly pour, rinse, and serve the tea.

Yuan Zhong took the delicate cup in both hands, inhaled the aroma, then took a sip. In truth, she was impatient with such rituals, but after seeing her mother do it so often at home, she understood the basics.

The Chief Editor tasted his cup, eyes lowered in contemplation, then nodded. “It does have that ‘freshness’.”

“I can’t really tell, just that it smells wonderful,” Yuan Zhong smiled.

“Aroma and freshness are different, especially in the aftertaste—you’ll notice it if you pay attention,” the Chief Editor explained.

Yuan Zhong drank another cup and, noticing his pleasant mood, said, “Chief Editor, I’ve contacted Qiye. He said he’ll do his best to write and try to meet the requirements.”

“That’s good, we’ll let him know you’re capable,” the Chief Editor replied.

“But, Chief Editor, I thought the deadline was odd—why was the contract signed with such a tight schedule? A fine work takes time, and at Qiye’s writing speed, it seems unrealistic.”

She watched him closely as she spoke.

“That was mainly due to market demand—readers are impatient,” the Chief Editor said.

Did that mean he already knew?

Yuan Zhong pressed, “Was it the company’s suggestion, or did Qiye request it himself?”

“I’m not sure about the specifics, but that’s how it ended up. Why, did Qiye mention anything?”

“Not really, just that it’s challenging, but he’ll try,” Yuan Zhong replied.

“Then let him try—younger people need to push themselves,” the Chief Editor said, pouring more tea.

Yuan Zhong thanked him, drank a third cup, and left considerately.

Watching her retreat, the Chief Editor glanced down at his tea, thoughtful.

Back at her desk, Yuan Zhong felt uneasy. The Chief Editor had answered her, yet seemed to say nothing at all.

Later that morning, Yuan Zhong discreetly called the company’s legal advisor to inquire about the consequences of a breach of contract. Still, nothing unusual emerged.

What now!

That afternoon, Wang Shanshan sent Yuan Zhong on errands again, asking her to buy a long list of items.

Chen Yue didn’t understand. “Why does she have so many things to give away?”

Yuan Zhong didn’t care. It was inconvenient to make calls at the office, and as a newcomer, she couldn’t just occupy the meeting room. Being sent out was perfect—she could go see Miao Shu directly.

She found Cong Wenbin, and they split the shopping list. She assigned him more items but didn’t explain; he didn’t ask.

“I can’t drive you—I have to...” Yuan Zhong began, but Cong Wenbin had already turned and walked away.

“Hey, aren’t you going to say anything?” Yuan Zhong muttered.

She called Miao Shu, confirmed his location, and drove to the university. They met at the library.

Yuan Zhong sat down and drank half a bottle of mineral water at once.

“No rush. I have nothing else planned,” Miao Shu said, idly spinning a pen.

“Thank you. I was worried you wouldn’t be here or would have class,” Yuan Zhong said, catching her breath.

“I managed to escape back to campus for now. I do have classes, but they’re boring,” Miao Shu replied.

Yuan Zhong wasn’t sure how to respond—should she ask something else?

Miao Shu glanced at her. “Still about the contract?”

Yuan Zhong nodded.

“So, have you decided your position?” Miao Shu asked.

“I—I don’t know. I talked to our Chief Editor today. I wanted your advice,” Yuan Zhong said.

“Your Chief Editor? What did he say?”

Yuan Zhong recounted the conversation, playing both roles, faithfully recreating the scene.

Afterward, seeing Miao Shu watching her, she explained, “I’m sure I didn’t get it wrong—I thought about the questions in advance and wrote them down. I listened carefully, and after leaving his office, I wrote down his answers.”

“All right, you’re quite diligent. Are you trying to help the author?” Miao Shu asked.

Help Qi Leyu? Yuan Zhong froze. She hadn’t been conscious of it before, but Miao Shu’s question made her realize that, deep down, she did hope he wouldn’t breach the contract.

“But from what your Chief Editor said, he hopes the author will breach it,” Miao Shu observed.

“Why?” Yuan Zhong frowned.

“How should I know?”

“You just said so yourself!”

Miao Shu blinked and explained, “I was analyzing his intention from his words, but the reason behind that intention is another matter. At least, in your conversation, there was no information about it.”

Yuan Zhong was confused.

“Anyway, think it through yourself. I’m quite certain your Chief Editor hopes for a breach—and he’s treating you kindly, separating you from the issue. That means, if the author defaults, you probably won’t be held responsible.”

“How can you read so much into his words?” Yuan Zhong couldn’t understand.