The warmth had faded. Han Qian returned to Gucci, hoping to negotiate a refund, but was told he needed the purchase receipt, and even if a refund was granted, the money would be returned to the original payment card. With a helpless sigh, Han Qian slumped over the counter and asked whether, given that he had bought such an expensive item without bargaining, they could at least throw in a few pairs of socks.
To his surprise, the request was not denied. Still, even with the complimentary socks in hand, Han Qian felt he had suffered a great loss. Brand or no brand, clothes are just clothes, he thought. As long as they cover you, why must they cost so much?
The sales assistant, noticing the regret etched into his face, stepped forward with a gentle smile and said softly,
"Sir, with a girlfriend like that, you must be very fortunate."
Fortunate? A shiver ran down Han Qian's spine at the mere mention of Wen Nuan. She had been unusually well-behaved these past few days, but once her mischief resumed, she could drive a man to madness. He turned his head, scratched it bashfully, and gave a sheepish smile.
"We're… just friends. Honestly, with prices like these, I don't see many customers around. Does your store even earn enough in a month to cover rent?"
The assistant blinked, surprised, then chuckled.
"You have quite the sense of humor, sir. Gucci does not rely on high volume. We target a niche clientele—those with discerning tastes and deep pockets. I don't know about profits, I'm just a shop assistant. But I do know that even if we didn't make a profit, our boss wouldn't bat an eye at the two hundred thousand in annual rent."
"You're not employed by Rongyao Group?"
"No, but we have to complete Rongyao's training to work here. Is there anything else I can assist you with, sir?"
"No, no, that's all."
Scratching his head awkwardly, Han Qian turned and walked away, turning over the assistant's words in his mind. They left a deep impression.
As he stepped out of Rongyao Department Store, the sun blazed overhead. Han Qian squinted up at the sky and felt a wave of warmth wash over him—then smacked himself on the forehead. He had completely forgotten about work. All because of Wen Nuan!
Three years as a househusband had dulled his sense of routine. Gritting his teeth, he flagged down a taxi and gave the driver directions—not the shortest route, but one that avoided gridlock. After all, he couldn't afford the time surcharge now.
He was poorer than ever.
Nervous and uneasy, Han Qian stepped through Rongyao Group's main entrance. The round-faced receptionist shot to her feet the moment she saw him, dialing the executive secretary in a panic—only to receive no answer. Han Qian noticed her fluster and flashed her a sunny grin.
The girl stood frozen. Who is this guy who's only been here two days? Snapping out of her daze, she bolted for the fourteenth floor—determined to inform Director Yan at once that the mysterious Han Qian had returned.
Han Qian took the elevator to the eleventh floor. As the doors opened, he found his colleagues in the General Affairs Department mopping floors, wiping windows, and watering plants.
Well, well? Han Qian chuckled. Nice of Rongyao to get the staff moving, good for the health. Curious, he strolled up to Deputy Supervisor Liu Jiulong and grinned.
"Deputy Liu, hands-on as always. Got the department stretching their legs a bit, huh?"
"Bah! You think I wanted this? It's that damned Han who got on—wait… Han Qian? Han Qian! Someone grab him! Don't let that brat escape!"
Bending over his mop, Liu hadn't recognized the voice at first. Halfway through his rant, he realized how familiar it sounded. When he looked up and confirmed it was indeed the little rascal, he dropped the mop and threw his arms around him.
Han Qian was dumbfounded. What's with all the affection? Then he saw the entire department charging at him—armed with mops, brooms, watering cans, even basins—faces twisted in rage, murderous intent in their eyes.
He was terrified. Trapped in Liu's embrace, he shut his eyes, bracing himself for the "love" his coworkers were about to shower upon him. It might hurt.
"Have you found Han Qian? Where is he?!"
Yang Lan's voice rang out like divine music in his ears. Liu Jiulong loosened his grip, and in the next moment, Han Qian's ear throbbed with pain. He opened his eyes to see Yang Lan's anxious face, her eyes rimmed red.
"Sister Yang, ow ow ow, can't we talk this out?"
"Talk? You vanish from work without so much as a call, then turn your phone off? Do you realize you nearly cost me and Su Liang our jobs? If I lose this job, my family falls apart! Han Qian, you—"
She broke down crying. Han Qian pulled out his antique phone—it was dead. Had it broken last night? Come to think of it, he hadn't charged it in nearly half a month. Seeing Yang Lan cry made Liu Jiulong furious. He kicked Han Qian hard.
"You little punk! Don't you have any sense? Director Yan was here early this morning waiting for you! If you didn't want to work, you should've quit outright. Because of you, Lan Lan got chewed out like a dog. I ought to kill you! Lan Lan, don't cry—Liu-ge will comfort you."
As Liu moved in with greasy affection, Han Qian quickly stepped between them, apologizing sincerely.
"I'm sorry, really. Last night, a friend of mine got hit by a car and was just discharged from the hospital. I rushed over—scared me to death. I forgot all about the phone. Her parents weren't around. She's just a lonely girl…"
Wen Nuan, take one for the team, okay? You and your shopping trips…
"Han Qian, did you change your outfit? Looks pretty decent. Bought it at the hospital?"
Liu Jiulong, shoved aside, shot Han Qian a glare, eager to tear him down. Yang Lan ignored their bickering and dragged Han Qian by the ear toward General Affairs.
"Director Yan has an urgent task for you. How do you even have time to shop? If you're short on clothes, just tell me—I'll buy them for you! But disappearing like that? You're only still employed because she needs you right now. Otherwise, you'd have been fired long ago!"
Grimacing in pain, Han Qian glanced at her and muttered,
"What's the rush? I told her I'd have the results by tomorrow morning. Don't be mad, Sister Yang. This was my fault. I'll go find her and argue it out."
Yang Lan flung him into a chair and snapped through gritted teeth, eyes still wet.
"Why did you take on this cursed job?"
"Cursed? My ears sure think so. And wait—don't tell me the whole department's out cleaning because of me…"
Liu Jiulong cracked his knuckles and growled,
"What, you think we're just feeling sorry for the janitors?"
"Uncle Liu, we call them aunties. You should say 'miss.'"
"You brat! Trying to pick a fight? I'm only thirty-nine!"
Liu Jiulong was, at best, an ambiguous character—neither wholly good nor entirely bad. Whatever he felt showed plainly on his face. Han Qian scratched his head awkwardly and turned to Yang Lan with a grin.
"Come on, Sister Yang, don't stay mad. When this is all over, I'll treat everyone—my treat. We'll paint the town red. It's the least I can do. Where's Su Liang? Off looking for me?"
Yang Lan took a deep breath, so vast and formidable that Han Qian lowered his head in guilt. Before she could speak, Xiao Yang Jia rushed over, apron-clad Su Liang trailing behind. Seeing Han Qian, Yang Jia exhaled in relief, grabbed his arm, and yanked him toward the door.
"Go see Director Yan now—if you're lucky, you might leave with your body intact!"
Dragged along, Han Qian looked back at Su Liang and smiled.
"Card or cash?"
Su Liang grinned.
"Cash. Looks more satisfying. A thick stack of bills—perfect for charming the ladies. You know what I mean, Qian-ge."
"Good. I'll give it to you tomorrow."
As Han Qian was whisked away, the General Affairs Department collectively sighed in relief. Liu Jiulong slung an arm over Su Liang's shoulder, whispering,
"What's he working on? Spill it."
Su Liang had been reassured the moment he saw Han Qian smiling. He shrugged.
"I don't know the details, just that Qian-ge brought me in. And I'll be walking away with a thick stack of—"
"You not done cleaning the bathrooms, Su Liang?"
Yang Lan's scolding cut him off. Success was still uncertain. If word got out and Han Qian failed, they'd never hear the end of it. Liu Jiulong backed off and turned to Yang Lan with a fawning smile.
"Lan Lan, I've got two tick—"
Bang!
The office door slammed shut, nearly hitting him in the nose.
Ah, love… such a long and arduous road.