Naohai
The elevator door dinged softly and swung open steadily. Xiangyang took a long step and entered the e-commerce empire he had built: Naohai.
The early morning sunlight shines through the magnificent floor-to-ceiling windows, dividing the office into a vast space of light and darkness, reflecting his refreshed spirit at the moment.
He was completely different from the man who was floating in a nightmare more than an hour ago, his heavy clothes drenched with sweat. The Xiangyang in front of him had a sharp look between his brows, his steps were steady, and his dark suit outlined his tall and majestic figure.
"Nezha E-merce", a huge LOGO wall with a strong sense of technology, announces the company's name in a bold manner.
The entire office space is surprisingly spacious, with almost no partitions. It is only decorated with artworks and green plants of various styles. The visual effect is as its name suggests, full of the spirit of facing thousands of criticisms with a cold and indifferent attitude.
On the broad wall, several huge masterpieces by photographers are placed, each without paying any attention to harmony, but with a strong tension.
Master photographer Steve McCurry captures images of the mysterious lands of China and India, tinged with brick red, ochre, and gold, with rich, saturated colors that seem to overflow from the frame. Meanwhile, Richard Avedon's black-and-white portraits, with their piercing angles and undisguised irony, coldly observe the myriad aspects of human life.
Just like this office, it embraces the sunshine with open arms, yet isolates the bustling city skyline outside the window with a huge piece of glass.
Xiangyang chose to expand into the bustling and complex field of "e-commerce". He had the courage to go straight into the crowd, but he chose the virtual and alienated medium of "Internet".
His style of doing things is not so much rebellious as it is a kind of "disobedience" that is ingrained in his bones.
As for who this energy is directed at, perhaps even he himself has never thought about it.
Young employees with different styles of dress are busy moving around, and the air is filled with the aroma of coffee and the sound of keyboards.
At the edge of the office area, there is a pool table, a dart board, and an old-fashioned "Street Fighter" game console. Next to it is a fully equipped coffee machine, a refrigerator full of drinks, and shelves piled with various snacks. The overall atmosphere is not like a traditional office, but more like a lively Internet cafe.
"Good morning, President Xiang!"
"Good morning, President Xiang!"
When the employees saw him, they all greeted him loudly.
"Good morning." Xiangyang nodded in response, with a faint smile on his face, looking energetic.
He walked through the first area and headed towards the second area on the "Nao Hai" floor.
Here, several huge monitoring screens occupy the wall, and several colleagues from the marketing team are concentrating on staring at the real-time images of each live broadcast room.
The bustle of the second district is different from the relative quietness of the first district. Early in the morning, the air is already filled with a bustling business atmosphere.
On different screens, there are live broadcasters with unique characteristics, both men and women, of different ages, with various styles and appeals. They are doing their best to promote different categories of goods. Some are chatting with netizens, acting cute, or singing popular songs.
Xiangyang took a quick look and didn't stay too long, as he didn't want to disturb his colleagues who were watching the live broadcast.
He turned and walked towards his office.
On both sides of the aisle are independent live broadcast rooms separated by floor-to-ceiling soundproof glass, through which you can clearly see the live broadcasters inside showing off their skills in selling goods.
His best friend and right-hand man in business, Peng Qunshan, was currently crouching outside one of the live broadcast rooms, his ear pressed against the glass, with a small loudspeaker next to him for external amplification, paying close attention to the progress of the goods being sold inside.
Xiangyang walked closer with light steps and took a look.
In the live broadcast room is Qin'er, a beautiful live broadcaster ranked in the top three in popularity on "Naohai". Today she is selling high-priced domestic silk scarves.
Qin'er's sales partner is Bai Yan, a sweet-faced and well-known female artist.
There are also two assistants in the live broadcast room, responsible for scene control and photography respectively.
I only heard the female artist Bai Yan's voice exaggeratingly shouting, "I want them! I'm so happy to get five scarves!"
Qin'er immediately responded, speaking rapidly, "No, Sister Baiyan! Look at how fast they're placing orders! The babies are so quick, don't try to snatch them away! If you really want to help me, stand up and turn around so everyone can see the effect!"
Upon hearing this, Bai Yan stood up and skillfully showed the colorful scarf in her hand to the camera. Her posture was elegant, and she performed it very professionally and just right.
Qin'er's voice was full of infectiousness: "Same style as Bai Yan! Sisters, put it on and you will be the lavender goddess walking in the spring breeze!"
Outside the glass partition, Peng Qunshan clutched a script in his hand and whispered along with Qin'er, "Same as Bai Yan, you are the lavender goddess walking in the spring breeze..."
Xiangyang stood behind him and lowered his voice to a very low voice: "The Baiyan from Floating Dreams?"
Peng Qunshan was startled, then turned around and saw Xiangyang. He immediately grinned, "That's her! A popular young actress born after 1995!"
He lowered his voice and imitated Bai Yan's classic dialogue from the fairy tale drama, "My Lord, you gave me my life... Tsk tsk, this scarf, I think I must have burned incense in my past life, it's going to be a huge hit!"
Xiang Yang frowned. "You hired them? You didn't even ask me to approve the budget first?"
"How dare I, Brother Yang!" Peng Qunshan waved his hands quickly. "Bai Yan is Aqin's childhood friend. I'm just standing up for friendship. I'm doing this out of obligation!"
"That should be considered as commission." Xiang Yang said with a powerful tone, "Call me when you're done. I'll personally escort her downstairs. Don't be rude."
Peng Qunshan scratched his head, somewhat puzzled. "Why? I just want Aqin to set an example for other livestreamers to showcase their talents. If they have the resources, feel free to bring them to their livestreams. It's called the 'catfish effect,' ever? It should stimulate everyone's enthusiasm!"
Xiang Yang frowned. "What about those without resources? Our company doesn't engage in intrigue."
He patted Peng Qunshan on the shoulder and softened his tone, "Thank you for your hard work. A sudden downpour won't last forever. It's enough for us to keep our feet on the ground and run our business honestly."
Peng Qunshan felt a little aggrieved: "Boss Xiang, don't be so serious. Considering that I've been wholeheartedly accompanying you through thick and thin..."
"Okay, stop watching period dramas." Xiang Yang interrupted him, a friendly smile on his face. "Go and do your thing."
Xiangyang pushed open the door of his general manager's office, and a sense of quiet tranquility came over him.
The office is incredibly spacious, and the most eye-catching feature is a massive splash-ink painting, "Nezha Makes Trouble in the Sea," hanging on the wall opposite his desk. In bold, bold colors and a bold, bold brushstroke, the painting depicts Nezha, a figure with three heads and six arms, riding on a wind-fire wheel and wielding the Qiankun Ring and Hun Tian Ling, wreaking havoc in the Dragon Palace of the East China Sea—the very theme of his e-commerce name.
Fan Lingjuan was dressed in simple and elegant clothes, sitting quietly on the sofa by the window, holding a hardcover English novel in her hand.
The sunlight filtered through the clean glass, casting a gentle, uncontested halo over her, outlining her beautiful profile. Time seemed to have been especially kind to this once-stunning actress, adding only a few lines of calm and wisdom to the corners of her eyes.
"You're here." Xiangyang's voice was warm. He took off his suit jacket and hung it on the hanger beside him. He walked to his desk, sat down, and turned on his computer.
Fan Lingjuan did not respond immediately. When she saw him come in, she put down the book in her hand, picked up the thermos on the coffee table, and slowly poured the soup into the porcelain bowl.
The interaction between the two was natural, and it was obvious that such scenes were common.
Xiangyang glanced at the bowl of steaming soup, a smile playing on his lips: "So early in the morning, and you're drinking this?"
Fan Lingjuan came over with a bowl of soup and gently placed it on Xiangyang's table. Her tone was gentle and unyielding, "American ginseng stewed with black-bone chicken. You always stay up late, and your internal heat is rising. Drink this to replenish your body."
Xiangyang frowned and pretended to refuse: "But this early in the morning..."
"Stop rambling!" Fan Lingjuan glared at him. "For this bowl of soup, I got up early in the morning and boiled and simmered it for three hours. Do you think I have nothing to do?"
Xiang Yang raised an eyebrow and said jokingly, "Another decree from the Emperor, right?"
Fan Lingjuan snorted softly, sat back on the sofa, and picked up the book again, but didn't open it. "He was watching your live broadcast last night and muttered to himself, saying that the dark circles under your eyes were almost down to your chin."
"Tell him not to look at it. It will only make you upset." Xiangyang's tone was flat, but there was a sense of alienation in it.
"They're father and son, but you have to make it seem like they've been enemies for generations." Fan Lingjuan sighed. "You too, even naming your company 'Nao Hai', afraid others wouldn't know what you're up to... Well, I'm tired anyway, and I don't have the energy to bother with you two anymore."
Xiangyang picked up the soup bowl, looked down at the thick soup inside, and said in a muffled voice, "Are you saying I'm a heretic? I can guess what words he'll use."
Upon hearing this, Fan Lingjuan feigned anger and glared at him, "Speaking of heresy, who could be more heretical than me? I'm a nameless person, yet I've served you two, old and young, for so many years!"
When Xiangyang heard this, he looked up in panic, put on a flattering smile, and said repeatedly: "I'm wrong, I'm wrong, Aunt Juan, is it okay if I'm wrong?"
He picked up the bowl and took a big sip of soup obediently. The steaming hot soup slid into his throat and the warmth gradually spread.
Seeing that he finally "gave in", Fan Lingjuan raised the corners of her lips, put the book back on the bookshelf beside her, put on her coat, and prepared to leave.
Just then, Xiangyang's cell phone rang, and he picked it up.
Xia Xiaochan's lively and cheerful voice came from the other end of the phone.
Xiang Yang said to his phone, "...It's still early? Your mom..." He paused and changed the subject, "My mom is here, urging me to drink my soup...Okay, come over. The live broadcast room is ready for you, and a stage manager has been assigned to you. Just have fun."
After hanging up the phone, he said to Fan Lingjuan, "Xiao Chan, she's been clamoring to try live streaming. I asked her to bring some snacks from Diwan. There's no sales pressure, just for fun, perfect."
Fan Lingjuan shook her head, a look of helpless fondness on her face. "It's really unbearable to watch. Your dad is right. These internet celebrities aren't serious artists after all. What real talent do they have? Out of sight, out of mind. I'm leaving."
She walked to the door and turned back to remind him, "You don't need to wash the thermos. Just ask Xiaochan to bring it back later."
Xiangyang smiled and watched Fan Lingjuan's back disappear outside the door, then lowered his head and drank the last mouthful of soup in the bowl.
For the young entrepreneur Xiang Yang, a repetitive yet challenging day begins.
He buried his head in his desk, answering calls from all directions, his fingertips jumping rapidly on the keyboard, browsing the latest industry information and data.
Employees brought in documents that needed approval one after another. He reviewed them one by one and signed his name.
Reports from various departments also came in, and he discussed them in low voices with his subordinates, sometimes frowning in deep thought, and sometimes making decisive decisions.
The secretary led the cooperative manufacturer into the office. After a heated business negotiation, the two sides shook hands and the manufacturer left satisfied.
Time passed quietly, and the bustling city landscape outside the window had unknowingly turned into dusk and the lights came on.
Xiangyang stretched out his body to dispel the day's fatigue. He opened the bottom drawer of his desk and took out a thick, neatly bound book.
It was a movie script. On the cover were the words, written in large, flamboyant script: "Nezha: The Works of Xiangyang."
He picked up a pen and began to write careful marginal notes on the margin of the script, his expression focused, as if the whole world only contained him and the heavy words in his hand.
Perhaps, Xiangyang's "rebelliousness" that is deep in his bones is never directed at a specific person, but at himself.
He refused to settle for the status quo and went against his family's expectations of a stable life. He plunged headfirst into the "vulgar" business world and created a huge storm.
After achieving success, he unexpectedly made a bold move, leaping and daring, starting a new career in personal creation, and stepping into a completely new field that seemed to be closely connected to his blood.
When will this protracted "sea riot" end? Where will it lead him? No one knows.
And this movie script titled "Nezha" may be the prelude to his next journey, a deeply buried foreshadowing, waiting to unveil its mysterious veil at some point in the future.
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