29: Chapter 29 Lingering Fears

As evening approached, inside the female dormitory at the University of Finance and Economics, the four girls finally calmed down and returned to their usual state.

They ordered their usual Mala Xiang Guo takeout, sat around together, scrolling through their phones while chatting and laughing, as if nothing had happened.

After finishing dinner, Wu Mengyao put down her chopsticks. "I'm going home tonight."

The other three knew she was local and lived not far from the school. Xiaolin nodded. "Be careful on the road, and let us know when you get home."

Wu Mengyao hummed, picked up her phone, and sent a message to her mother:

"Mom, I'm coming home tonight."

The reply came almost instantly:

"Okay, be safe on the road. I'll ask your dad to come back early."

Wu Mengyao shouldered her bag and pushed open the door, leaving the dormitory.

...

Wu Mengyao's Home.

Pushing open the door, she was instantly enveloped by warm light and the aroma of food.

Her mother, busy in the kitchen, poked her head out upon hearing the movement. "Yaoyao? Why are you suddenly home? Quickly wash your hands, dinner will be ready soon."

Wu Mengyao put down her bag, rolled up her sleeves, and walked into the kitchen. "Mom, let me help you."

"No need, you sit and rest..." Before her mother could finish, Wu Mengyao had already taken the basket from her hands. "It's fine, I want to move around."

Mother and daughter chatted casually in the kitchen; Wu Mengyao washed vegetables while her mother stir-fried. The familiar scent of home cooking slowly relaxed her tightly wound nerves.

With a 'ding,' the door opened, and her father, President Wu Guodong, returned. He took off his dusty coat, washed his hands, and sat down by the dining table.

Under the warm yellow light, the braised pork ribs glistened, the stir-fried greens were jade-green, and the winter melon and clam soup steamed invitingly.

Her mother keenly noticed that her daughter's complexion was a little pale, and the hand holding the chopsticks trembled almost imperceptibly. "Yaoyao, are you feeling unwell somewhere?" She reached out to check Wu Mengyao's forehead.

This question instantly shattered the composure Wu Mengyao had been forcing. She put down her chopsticks, and her eyes instantly reddened.

Taking a deep breath, she recounted what had happened that afternoon.

The focus of her narrative was the incident itself: the lure of a high-paying part-time job, the interlocking traps, the brutal coercion from the other party, and the utter despair of the few girls being completely helpless.

"Later... later a man came in," her voice was a little dry. "He was probably in his late twenties or early thirties, wearing a casual suit, and looked very calm. He asked those people for the invoices for the clothes, for evidence, and even told us to go to the police... Those people were so intimidated by him that they ended up paying us the wages and leaving."

After speaking, she let out a long breath, as if a stone blocking her chest had been moved.

Her mother cried with heartache, repeatedly saying, "It's good that you're safe," and continuously placed food on her plate.

The family was well-off; her father, President Wu Guodong, ran a successful decoration business locally, and his daughter certainly didn't need to struggle for a little money. But at this moment, neither parent blamed their daughter for taking the part-time job—the child could do whatever she wanted, but when trouble arose, home was the sanctuary.

President Wu Guodong hadn't said much the whole time, just listened. The lines on his face looked especially sharp under the light.

He poured a bowl of soup for his daughter and pushed it toward her.

"Drink some soup first to calm your nerves." His voice was steady, carrying a reassuring strength.

Only when Wu Mengyao's emotions had slightly settled and she began sipping the soup did President Wu Guodong put down his chopsticks. His tone was calm, but every word was heavy: "The location was Creative Park Zone C, studio 3. Do you remember what those people looked like, what they were wearing?"

Wu Mengyao struggled to recall and described a few details.

"Mhm." President Wu Guodong nodded, saying no more, just picking up his wine glass and taking a sip.

But his wife and daughter, who knew him well, understood that behind that single "Mhm," the matter was far from over.

After the family dinner concluded, Wu Mengyao went to take a shower. Once clean, she collapsed onto her familiar bed. Her tightly wound nerves finally relaxed, leaving only the faces of those vicious men and the lingering fear in her mind. As for the person who rescued them... she vaguely thought he was a good person. Sleepiness quickly overcame her.

Downstairs in the study, President Wu Guodong closed the door and dialed a number...

— —

On the other side, Qiao Yichen returned to his rented apartment.

Having just washed away the day's fatigue, he lay on the bed.

His phone suddenly vibrated; it was a call from Su Qing.

"Mr. Qiao, am I disturbing you? Have you decided on the name for your studio? I need to submit it on my end tomorrow." Su Qing's voice was crisp and efficient.

"I have decided on three: 'Chenguang Strategy studio,' 'Yiran Consulting,' and 'Jianwei Planning.' Which do you think is more reliable?" Qiao Yichen threw the question back to the professional.

Su Qing pondered for a moment: "Considering the registration approval rate and business appeal, 'Yiran Consulting' is a good name. However, you need to decide quickly so I can check for duplicates and submit it tomorrow morning."

"Alright, then 'Yiran Consulting.' Please send me the list of materials I need to prepare again; I'll organize them tomorrow morning."

"Okay, I'll send it to you shortly." Su Qing hung up cleanly.

As soon as he put down the phone, Wang Xiao's WeChat message popped up again:

"Brother Qiao, I've squeezed out two slots this week, one for K12 and one for domestic beauty products. The data looks good; want to take them? Same old arrangement."

Qiao Yichen replied quickly:

"Brother Wang, I'm in the process of registering the studio; my personal account will be suspended soon. Let's pause the new slots for a week or two. Once the company account is set up, I'll take them with a formal contract. Apologies."

Wang Xiao replied almost instantly:

"Understood! Compliance is key; you're doing the right thing. I'll wait for your news; I'll hold the slots for you."

After handling these matters, Qiao Yichen leaned back in his chair and let out a soft breath; there were quite a few trivial things.

...

Qiao Yichen recalled hearing colleagues from the Planning Department complaining quietly at the company that afternoon that Liu Yanran had just rejected a visual proposal for 'Little Deer Tea Drink's' summer new product, demanding a redo. It was a fast-moving consumer goods project with a small budget, but Liu Yanran always maintained strict standards for output.

Qiao Yichen typed: "For the 'Little Deer Tea Drink' visual proposal, are there any leads on the second round?"

Almost as soon as he sent it, the other person's status showed "Typing..."

Liu Yanran: "Just finished showering. Don't even mention it. The theme is 'Scorching Summer,' but what they submitted were the same old clichés: swimming pools, watermelons, and bright sun—completely unoriginal." (Followed by a [Headache] emoji)

Qiao Yichen: "'Scorching' doesn't always have to mean hot. How about trying 'Summer Ice Crack'? A deep blue background, with a brilliant white crack, like earth cracking under intense heat."

There was a pause on Liu Yanran's end for a few seconds.

Liu Yanran: "...Ice Crack. That idea actually sounds pretty good. I'll make a note of it."

Liu Yanran: "Never mind that for now. What about you? Have you contacted Su Qing?"

Qiao Yichen: "Mhm, I was just about to mention it. I've decided on the name; I plan to call it 'Yiran Consulting.'"

After sending the message, Qiao Yichen's fingertip paused at the edge of the screen. This name was derived from the two of their names (Yichen, Yanran); the implication was obvious.

The prompt "Typing..." flashed on the screen a few times, pausing slightly longer than usual for a second or two.

Liu Yanran: "'Yiran'... That's a nice name." (Followed by a smiley face emoji)

Qiao Yichen looked at the emoji and the simple reply, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly.

Qiao Yichen: "I'll submit the materials tomorrow. I'll use a virtual address for now, but I took a trip to the Creative Park area today during my break and looked at a few physical locations, thinking that eventually, I'll need a place where I can put a desk and receive people."

Liu Yanran: "Did you find one you liked?"

Qiao Yichen: "There's one facing east, with very large windows. The sunlight can flood half the room on a sunny day. It's just that the building is a bit old."

Liu Yanran: "A bit old is good; it's quiet and has atmosphere. Once it's tidied up, we can add a desk, chairs, bookcases, and some greenery."

Qiao Yichen: "Greenery? I thought you'd say the first necessity would be a top-of-the-line coffee machine."

Liu Yanran: "A coffee machine is essential. Greenery... is for mood." (Followed by a [Leisurely] emoji)

Qiao Yichen smiled, almost able to hear the teasing tone in her voice.

...

They chatted like this, unaware of the time, until ten o'clock at night.

Liu Yanran: "It's getting late. Take the registration process one step at a time; don't stay up too late."

Qiao Yichen: "I know. You too. Good night."

Liu Yanran: "Night."