Don't be unhappy, okay?
The cold rain in Shanghai slanted down onto the floor-to-ceiling windows of the editorial office, leaving a blurry trail of water. Ning Zhichu stood in front of Lin Man's desk, the edges of the interview notes she was clutching were already soaked with sweat, and the words "Lin Group's revenue of 32 billion" on the page had been crossed out and traced over again, leaving marks of varying shades.
Lin Man sat behind her large desk, her fingertips repeatedly tracing the lines of a silver fountain pen, polishing the cap until it gleamed. At the bottom of a pile of documents on the corner of the desk lay a sheet of paper labeled "Lin Wei's Private IP Access Records." Her gaze swept over Ning Zhichu's reddened eyes, her Adam's apple bobbed, and finally she pushed a printed "Apology Statement" towards him: "The Lin family is pressing hard, and the industry association has also sent an inquiry letter. Please sign this statement first, and post it on the company's official WeChat account before the end of the day."
Ning Zhichu's gaze fell on the words, "Due to my negligence, I mistakenly published Lin's Group's projected revenue as actual data." Her fingers clenched tightly, her nails digging into her palms. "Editor-in-Chief Lin, I didn't make a mistake!" Her voice trembled as she handed over the industry report she was holding. "This is Lin's revenue forecast from the beginning of last year. The CFO clearly stated in an interview that 'there's a merger and acquisition deal at the end of the year, and the data will be adjusted.' I recorded it!"
Lin Man avoided her eyes, her gaze falling on the rain outside the window. She knew the truth, of course—the internal network access records submitted by the technical department last week showed that Song Wei's IP address had logged into Lin's encrypted financial folder on the day Ning Zhichu submitted her manuscript; the anonymous forum posts traced back to Song Wei's alternate account; even the break room surveillance footage showed Song Wei secretly memorizing the password when she borrowed Ning Zhichu's computer. But these were all indirect evidence, lacking direct proof of Song Wei's alteration of the manuscript. Furthermore, the Lin Group was threatening to terminate the entire year's cooperation, so as the editor-in-chief, she could only try to quell the situation.
“I’ve listened to the recording.” Lin Man’s voice was very low, her fingers gripping the pen tightly, the cap leaving a red mark on her palm. “But the word ‘expected’ was edited out. Now that Lin’s Group doesn’t admit it, there’s nothing we can do.” When she looked up, there was a hint of apology in her eyes. “Release the statement first to keep your job, and I’ll help you investigate further.”
Seeing Lin Man's averted gaze, Ning Zhichu suddenly understood something. She remembered passing by Lin Man's office yesterday and seeing her staring blankly at the IP records on the computer, and she remembered Song Wei's recent tendency to intentionally or unintentionally boast about being "very familiar with Lin's public relations department." A wave of grievance washed over her. She bit her lip, grabbed the statement, and turned to leave, not seeing Lin Man stand up behind her, clutching the IP records in her hand, her fingertips trembling slightly.
Back at her workstation, Song Wei "coincidentally" passed by with a coffee in hand, her high heels clicking crisply on the floor. "Oh, Zhichu, did the editor-in-chief finish talking to you?" She deliberately brought her coffee cup close to Ning Zhichu's desk, the steam rising onto the statement paper. "This statement is well-written. Discretion is the better part of valor; it's better than being fired." Her gaze swept over Ning Zhichu's interview notes, a smug smile playing on her lips. "By the way, I just spoke with Sister Zhang from Lin's PR department. She said that as long as you have a good attitude, there will be opportunities for future cooperation."
Ning Zhichu ignored her and continued tidying her desk. Suddenly, she flipped to the first page of her interview notebook and found a sycamore leaf bookmark tucked inside. Wei Ting had brought it back from New York; the veins of the leaf were engraved with tiny "N&W," and the edges were curled from being rubbed so much. Her phone vibrated; it was a message from Wei Ting: "I'll be waiting for you at the pan-fried dumpling shop downstairs in your apartment complex tonight. I brought you some hot soup." She stared at the message for a long time, typing and deleting on the screen, finally replying only, "I have to work overtime tonight, don't wait for me."
She dared not see Wei Ting. The disappointment in his eyes during their last meeting was like a needle piercing her heart. He asked, "Did I do something wrong?" She could only brush it off with "being busy with work." She was afraid that if she saw him, she wouldn't be able to hold back her tears, and even more afraid that if he found out, he would use his connections to smooth things over for her—she wanted to earn her dignity through her own abilities, not hide behind him like a protected canary.
At the same time, in the top-floor office of Wall Street Insights, Wei Ting stared at the message "Don't wait for me" on his phone screen, his knuckles white from gripping it so tightly. A thick stack of investigation documents lay on the table, topped by a recording analysis report recently delivered by his assistant, stamped in red with "Editing evidence exists." In the report's attachment, an unedited original recording clearly stated: "Last year's estimated revenue was 23 billion, adjusted to 32 billion after the year-end merger. This figure needs to be clearly marked."
“President Wei,” the assistant knocked and entered, handing over a document, “We’ve found Song Wei’s bank statements. Last week, there was a transfer of 80,000 yuan from Manager Zhang of the Lin Group’s public relations department. We also have records of her alternate account; all the anonymous posts were made by her, and the posting times perfectly match the time she altered the manuscript.”
“Book a place,” Wei Ting said, closing the file. His voice was as deep as the Huangpu River on a winter night. “Make an appointment with Song Wei and tell her that I have a ‘cooperation proposal’ to discuss with the Lin Group.”
On Wednesday afternoon, in a high-end coffee shop on Huaihai Road, Song Wei sat opposite Wei Ting, her fingers nervously twisting a silk scarf. She wore a newly bought Chanel suit and exquisite makeup, yet under Wei Ting's gaze, she didn't even dare to drink her coffee. The man before her was a legendary figure on Wall Street; just sitting across from him created an invisible pressure. She thought to herself, "So, he dumped her after knowing a little about Ning Zhichu's scandal. He's nothing special."
“Miss Song should know why I’m looking for you.” Wei Ting didn’t beat around the bush, pushing a document in front of her. It contained evidence of IP access records, audio recording analysis reports, and posts from alternate accounts. “Ning Zhichu’s manuscript was altered, you posted the anonymous post, and you also sent the email to the industry association, right?”
Song Wei's face turned deathly pale instantly, her hand trembled, and the liquid in her coffee cup splashed onto the documents. "It wasn't me!" she tried to appear calm. "President Wei, you can't frame me based on this. Ning Zhichu has so many scandals; he's the one who framed me!"
"Framed you?" Wei Ting chuckled, tapping the signature on the document with his fingertips. "This is the registration record when you borrowed Ning Zhichu's computer. It has your signature on it, and next to it is a photo of the draft paper you wrote down her password on. The cleaner found it in the trash can at your workstation." He leaned forward slightly, his breath carrying the scent of cedarwood, exuding an undeniable dominance. "President Zhang of the Lin Group has already agreed to come forward and clarify, proving that the data adjustment was due to the merger. If you refuse to apologize publicly, I don't mind handing this evidence over to your editor-in-chief and simultaneously sending it to the industry association—at that point, it won't be as simple as you resigning; no one in the entire media industry will dare to hire you."
Song Wei's tears instantly fell, her voice trembling: "I'm just not reconciled... I've been with the company for two years, and I've always been just short of being an outstanding employee. Why did she steal my resources as soon as she joined?" She wiped away her tears, "I thought that if I changed the data, she wouldn't be able to get the outstanding employee award, and that would be the end of it. I didn't expect it to escalate like this..."
"Your resentment cannot be a reason to hurt others." Wei Ting's voice turned cold. "Tomorrow morning, issue a public apology in the editorial department, clearly explaining the process of altering the manuscript, and then send an apology letter to the Lin Group. If you do as instructed, I can have President Zhang not pursue your responsibility, nor hand over the evidence to your company's senior management; if you don't, you will bear the consequences." He stood up and straightened his suit jacket. "I'll give you one night to consider."
The cold rain had stopped when Wei Ting stepped out of the coffee shop. He took out his phone and dialed a number. "Hello, Ning Zhichu,"
"Don't be sad, okay? I've solved it for you. I can be your support." Ning Zhichu was packing up her office supplies at home when she received the call, and tears streamed down her face. "Wei Ting, please come to my house and keep me company. I miss you so much." All the emotions she had been holding back suddenly burst forth, and Ning Zhichu could no longer hold back and wanted to hug Wei Ting and cry her heart out.
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