The skies above Haicheng were a dull, indifferent gray—neither stormy nor clear. Just the kind of bland cloud cover that matched the mood of the city's working class. Below the sky, rows of five-story apartment buildings lined the narrow streets like tired soldiers. Faded paint flaked from their sides, rusting balcony railings groaned with age, and laundry hung like flags of surrender from window to window.
On the third floor of Building 7 in Minghua Residential Area, a tiny pigeonhole apartment stirred to life.
The windowpane rattled faintly as the breeze teased it. It was cracked slightly open, letting in a breath of fresh, damp morning air, mixed with the distant hiss of boiling noodles from a street vendor below. Honks, bicycle bells, and early-morning chatter drifted in like background music from a life Meilin hadn't had time to live.
The room was dim, lit only by the first reluctant streaks of dawn and the flickering screen of a laptop left open on a chipped bedside table. The space barely held a small bed, a narrow desk cluttered with papers and pens, and a plastic drawer with a cracked mirror leaning against the wall.
A shrill alarm beeped from under her pillow.
"Mnnh…" Lin Meilin groaned softly, eyes still shut, hand swiping blindly until she silenced the cursed sound. She lay there for a moment, her limbs heavy with exhaustion, hair sticking to her cheek, until the cold reality of the day ahead dragged her fully awake.
She blinked slowly.
Files were scattered beside her—printouts of yesterday's proposals, a red pen lying uncapped and bleeding into the edge of one sheet. Her laptop still hummed faintly, the screen glowing with an open document titled: Revised Pitch — You Group. Her neck ached from sleeping half-sitting against the wall.
She sat up, stretching her arms overhead and twisting her torso. A few joints cracked audibly. "I swear I'll get a proper chair someday," she muttered to herself.
Slipping off the bed, she padded barefoot across the cold, tiled floor to the corner of the room where her modest wardrobe stood. She slid it open and selected a plain white blouse, freshly ironed, and a navy-blue pencil skirt. Laying them carefully across the bed, she moved to her tiny kitchenette.
It wasn't more than a hotplate balanced on a shelf with a water dispenser nearby, but it was hers. She filled a kettle, humming absently as it heated, and grabbed a ceramic cup with a faded rabbit print.
She brewed her tea while flipping through a stapled draft of yesterday's pitch, eyes narrowing as she reviewed the client's revised requirements.
"They changed the budget range again?" Meilin muttered, blowing a tendril of her dark horse hair out of her face. "And want it submitted before noon today... of course they do."
Sighing, Meilin sipped her tea slowly, savoring the brief calm. Her phone vibrated once on the desk—WeChat notification.
[7:13 a.m.] Team Lead - Guo Lin:
"Morning, Meilin. Can you update the slides for the Fengjia presentation before 9am? Also, that email to HR yesterday needs rewriting. Thanks."
Her lips tugged down at the corners, but she typed a brief reply:
[7:14 a.m.] Meilin:
"Got it. Will send before 9."
No "good morning" in return. Typical.
She checked the time again and moved quickly, washing up and changing into her work clothes with precise, practiced movements. Her long black hair was pulled into a low bun, a few strands framing her tired but refined features. She applied a touch of powder and lip tint—just enough to look presentable but not enough to draw attention.
By 7:50, Meilin locked her door behind her, clutching her tote bag and laptop case. As she descended the staircase, the smell of steamed buns wafted up from the street. She paused only long enough to buy one from Old Lady Wang's stall before hopping onto the crowded bus that would take her downtown.
The ride was long and bumpy, with standing passengers swaying like reeds in the cramped aisle. Meilin clutched the overhead bar with one hand and used the other to read through her phone's notes. As the buildings outside grew taller and shinier, she could feel the invisible line being crossed—from the life she lived to the one she merely worked for.
By the time she reached the towering glass facade of Henglong Innovations, she was already drafting bullet points in her head.
The office lobby was all cold marble and chrome, buzzing with footsteps and clicks of heels. She greeted the receptionist with a polite nod and headed toward the elevator. Inside, surrounded by sleekly dressed colleagues laughing over weekend plans, Meilin stood quietly in the corner, checking her to-do list.
8:24 a.m.
As soon as she reached the open-floor workspace of her department, her phone buzzed again.
Coworker - Minjie:
"Hey Meilin, I think I messed up the color scheme on Slide 6. Can you help? I don't want to correct it myself because I might just mess it up some more."
She sighed softly.
Meilin:
"Send it to me. I'll check."
In another few minutes, a new message popped up.
Coworker - Weiwen:
"Morning, I forgot to add the client logo to the Baiyu presentation. Do you have it?"
Meilin:
"I have it. I'll update it for you."
Without another word, she set her things down and pulled out her laptop. Within seconds, her fingers were flying across the keyboard.
Slides were edited. Fonts matched. Headers aligned. She corrected two grammar errors in an outgoing client email, even though she wasn't copied on the original message. A misplaced decimal in a pricing estimate? That was equally fixed before anyone noticed. Meilin worked silently, invisibly—but thoroughly.
Then she sent them to their rightful owners. Like she always did.
No praise followed.
By mid-morning, her tea had gone cold, and her bun was starting to loosen. Still, Meilin, ever the diligent staff, kept her eyes on the screen. Meilin loved her job, though her salary wasn't as much as she'd expected but a promotion was coming up in two months, and she was confident that she would get promoted and her salary and company benefits would soon increase.
Suddenly, someone from marketing passed by holding a tray of fancy coffees. "Ugh, who still drinks plain green tea?" she heard them murmur.
Meilin didn't look up.
At 10:35 a.m., her team leader, Guo Lin, appeared behind her without warning. "Meilin, the revised Yichen proposal. I know it's last minute, but they want it formatted with the new structure. Oh—and they requested more visuals. Can you make it 'less wordy' and more 'executive friendly'?"
Meilin blinked, her small smile freezing on her lips. What was she expecting him to say? Thank her for the hard work? Tch.
"Yes," she said simply.
He nodded and walked off.
No "thank you." Of course not.
She inhaled slowly and began again—reformatting, redesigning, cutting down her own hard-written strategy paragraphs into pretty bullet points that looked nice in a 10-second boardroom glance.
Her lunch hour came and went. The steamed bun she'd eaten hours ago was a distant memory.
She checked her reflection briefly in the bathroom mirror during a toilet break. Her face looked calm as ever—neither pretty enough to be envied nor plain enough to be pitied. Her expression remained unreadable. But her eyes… They told the truth. Tired. Focused. Underrated.
She stared for a moment, then quietly adjusted her blouse and returned to her desk.
"Hey, Meilin," a junior staffer whispered as he passed her desk later that day, "I, uh, submitted the old file instead of the updated one for the Fengjia case that I was handed. I just sent the wrong attachment by accident."
Meilin didn't flinch. "I'll send the correct version now."
The boy looked at her like she was a lifeline. "You're amazing. Seriously. You save us all the time."
She smiled faintly. "Just doing my job."
But inside, a small, invisible voice asked: 'Whose job am I doing, really? And when will they see me? I need this promotion so badly. Just a little more time and it'll be over. Sigh.'
~
That evening, as the office lights began to dim and chairs scraped back from desks, laughter floated through the open floor. Teams were planning to gather near the elevators, adjusting their coats and bags, chatting excitedly about the hotpot spot someone had reserved.
"Meilin, you're coming too, right?" Minjie popped her head over the divider between their desks. "You haven't joined us in forever!"
Minjie hesitated for a second, eyes flicking toward her open laptop and the blinking cursor in the proposal. But Guo Lin had already shut his laptop and was swinging his jacket over his shoulder.
"Come on," Weiwen added, nudging her gently. "You deserve to eat something that's not tea and steamed buns for once."
Meilin exhaled lightly and began to pack up.
"Okay," she said, quietly saving her work and shutting her laptop.
"You're finally joining us!" Minjie grinned, falling into step beside her as they headed for the elevator.
Meilin offered a soft smile. "Couldn't say no this time."
"Exactly! You work like a machine, but even machines need hotpot," Minjie teased, nudging her playfully.
Her coworkers grinned. The elevator ride down was filled with casual banter—complaints about deadlines, excitement about bonuses, someone gossiping about another department's scandal. Meilin stood among them quietly, answering when spoken to, her laugh soft but present.
They spilled out into the cool evening air as a group, weaving through the bustle of the city streets. The hotpot place wasn't far—just a ten-minute walk. Bright neon signs and steam-fogged windows greeted them as they approached.
Meilin pulled out her phone and saw a message from her doting landlady who kept trying to connect her to her son who was a prosecutor. The woman even insisted she saved her name as 'mum' and Meilin eventually did since the landlady was the closest person she had as a real mother.
[7:01 p.m.] Mum:
"Hope you ate today. Don't forget to rest, darling."
Her lips curved into a fond smile.
[7:02 p.m.] Meilin:
"I'm okay, ma'am. I'll check on you later tonight if I'm not too tired from work."
"Meilin!" someone called from the door. "Come on, we're heading in!"
She pocketed her phone and hurried after them as the others began to settle in, the scent of broth and spices already drifting her way. It would definitely be a long night.