Long Time No See (GL) - Chapter 11
Night had fallen deeply, and the cool wind blew, making people exceptionally sober. The lights of the tall buildings illuminated the dark night, and even though they were several dozen meters apart, Gu Weirán could still clearly see Yún Shū’s smile. The surrounding skyscrapers and the shimmering night became mere adornments; only Yún Shū’s figure grew clearer.
Gazing across at her, Gu Weirán found herself somewhat reluctant to pull her eyes away. Every time Yún Shū gently called her name, Gu Weirán would momentarily surrender. Yún Shū’s murmuring voice, like a whisper echoing in her ear, always managed to disturb her heart.
“Is that your office?” Gu Weirán asked.
She felt that Yún Shū must have deliberately chosen this room, just so she could “monitor” her.
“Mhm. I have to work very late tonight. You can arrange your own time. If you want to go out, I can find someone to take you.”
“No need. I have work. You do yours, don’t worry about me. Mhm, that’s all.” Gu Weirán wanted to quickly end this kind of conversation. Immersing herself in this context always made her feel like she was losing herself.
“That’s all?”
“Mhm… Mhm! I’m hanging up now, not talking to you anymore.” Gu Weirán turned around first, facing away from the Míngdé Building. She didn’t listen to what Yún Shū was saying and directly pressed the hang-up button.
She didn’t realize that in every phone call with Yún Shū, she was always the one to hang up first. And Yún Shū would always wait for her to hang up before putting down her own phone.
Yún Shū had always been behind her, but she didn’t know it.
Nor did she know that the smoothness of her life all these years was due to Yún Shū.
In truth, Yún Shū had never truly left, Gu Weirán just couldn’t see her.
The hotel’s spacious balcony acted like a nighttime cinema, projecting Gu Weirán’s silhouette into Yún Shū’s line of sight.
She watched Gu Weirán slowly move out of her view.
Seeing that Gu Weirán was once again energetic enough to talk to her, Yún Shū felt relieved.
As long as she was safe, Yún Shū could concentrate on her work.
Currently, Míngdé Group was caught in a major public opinion crisis, and the stock of Líng Ruì Group, the foundation material supplier, had also hit its limit down.
The two companies had become an industry joke, their reputations damaged by the incident, resulting in losses exceeding a hundred million Yuan.
The most disheartening thing was that Yún Shū was not understood because of the near-fatal attack; instead, she was targeted by online violence. Many people said she deserved it, and that she should be killed to atone for the deceased.
National media reports on the matter were relatively objective, but the reaction in A City was extremely intense. From the media to the comments, the hostility was palpable. All the public anger was momentarily turned towards Yún Shū.
“This woman represents Míngdé’s true face, truly a vicious viper.”
“Why would Míngdé send such a young and beautiful woman out? To gain attention and divert focus?”
“Why not let her pay with her life for the migrant worker.”
“Being pretty is useful. Sleep your way up to become a high-level executive, and then you get the imperial sword to act as the representative, right?”
Gu Weirán slammed her hand on the table, furious when she saw these comments.
How dare they talk about Yún Shū like that!
The malice in the comment section overflowed the screen. Those people looked like they wanted to act on behalf of Heaven and eliminate Yún Shū quickly.
The escalation of public opinion from a corporation to an individual was truly absurd.
Even if they needed to put a person in charge, it shouldn’t be Yún Shū.
She was merely the company representative, there to speak and mediate relationships.
No! Gu Weirán calmed down and carefully examined the currently popular articles. The trend in A City was completely different from other places. What was the background of Líng Ruì Group? How easy would it be for them to handle the media?
Even Míngdé, with its large network in A City, should have been able to suppress the reports.
Unless… someone was deliberately stirring up trouble. Was the target Yún Shū?
If someone was trying to eliminate Yún Shū amidst the chaos, it must be an insider at Míngdé. How hated was Yún Shū, that they would even want her life?
Striving for fame and profit was one thing, but escalating it to destroying a person was too terrifying.
Thinking of this, Gu Weirán grew afraid. Yún Shū was currently in a deeply troubled situation. She must have anticipated this, or she should be able to see that she was being targeted, right?
She hoped those comments wouldn’t hurt her. She hoped she wouldn’t read them!
But how could Gu Weirán help her?
She had no money or power, only her pen, and she knew a few colleagues and classmates. If she wanted to do something within her capability, there was only one way.
Thinking of this, Gu Weirán held a video conference, pulling in a few team members to discuss the matter.
The current public opinion was overwhelmingly critical of Míngdé Group and Yún Shū. Some articles were clearly written to manipulate the narrative and were highly subjective. Gu Weirán wanted to write an objective article—one that couldn’t be seen as defending Míngdé Group nor one that would incite emotions.
After discussion, she assigned tasks. She would be the main writer, and the others would research the necessary data.
To her surprise, one person rushed directly to A City.
That was Yáng ōu. He was scared witless after seeing the video online of Gu Weirán and Yún Shū encountering danger, and he booked a last-minute flight to rush over that night.
Gu Weirán didn’t like it when people did this kind of thing, but today, she genuinely needed Yáng ōu there. Yáng ōu had a broader network than her and was very good at collecting data.
This article needed a large amount of data, and someone was needed to manage its dissemination and boost. Yáng ōu was very good at this. Finally, as long as people from Míngdé or Líng Ruì saw it and added fuel to the fire, getting it trending shouldn’t be a problem.
This was Gu Weirán’s plan.
Yáng ōu booked a room in the hotel, and the two worked together in Gu Weirán’s room, discussing and revising the draft, while simultaneously video conferencing with and mobilizing the rest of the Fēng Qǐ team.
Everyone knew this matter was related to Yún Shū and was highly motivated. After all, Gu Weirán had promised that for future projects, everyone would receive a bonus every time the client made a payment.
Now, everyone treated the company’s business as their own, working together unitedly. Fēng Qǐ had few people but strong cohesion, which was why Gu Weirán couldn’t let go of the company.
Yún Shū was on the frontline, and Gu Weirán was in the rear.
She told herself that helping Yún Shū was for the sake of the company.
In truth, even she didn’t know what it was truly for. She just felt highly annoyed and uncomfortable seeing those words cursing Yún Shū—it angered her more than if she herself had been insulted.
She knew clearly that fighting back with curses was pointless. Perhaps those accounts were trolls, operated by a team. She could only do her best, even if the effect was minuscule.
The two immersed themselves in work, sometimes pacing in the room, sometimes arguing, and sometimes quietly doing their separate tasks.
Yún Shū was busy in the office, either holding meetings or working at her desk. During a short break, she walked to the window, wanting to look at Gu Weirán, but noticed an extra man.
Who was that? Why was he in her room?
Yún Shū held her water cup, staring across for a long time. This brief moment of relaxation didn’t seem to cheer her up.
She took a deep breath, easing her weariness and fatigue, and couldn’t help but wonder again who that man in Weirán’s room was.
After zoning out by the window for a while, Yún Shū returned to her desk preoccupied. Just as she turned, Gu Weirán across the way happened to look up. She had deliberately chosen a table near the floor-to-ceiling window, just so she could occasionally see the office opposite.
When Yún Shū was away, Gu Weirán couldn’t help but look up and search for her. After Yún Shū returned, she couldn’t resist looking even more. Even a casual glance with her peripheral vision felt satisfying and reassuring.
This feeling was subtle, like an invisible bond, wanting Gu Weirán to depend on it.
“What are you looking at?” Yáng ōu waved his hand in front of Gu Weirán’s eyes.
Gu Weirán snapped back to attention, shaking her head: “Nothing, just spacing out, clearing my mind.”
“I’ve found all the pictures. Take a look and see if you have any suggestions.” Yáng ōu was responsible for finding suitable images. Text and images together made it readable, and the combination of pictures would make the article look more engaging.
Gu Weirán quickly browsed through them, giving Yáng ōu a thumbs-up. “No problem. Arrange it right away and send it to your friend.”
Yáng ōu had a classmate who happened to be the editor-in-chief of a major self-media account in A City. This submission required leveraging this connection. The initial source of publication had to be a media outlet with influence or credibility.
“Yes, we can, but…” Yáng ōu looked troubled.
“It costs money, right?” Gu Weirán knew there was no free lunch. Some connections could be used appropriately at times, but not always, especially during the current sensitive period. It was normal for them to quote a high price, as publishing this article might offend some powerful people.
What Gu Weirán needed was just the short window of a few hours after it was published. As long as it could gain momentum, they would have succeeded.
“It’s a bit more expensive than usual. How about we split the cost?” Yáng ōu didn’t want Gu Weirán to bear all the financial burden alone. He knew Gu Weirán had sold her house and couldn’t bear to see her spend this.
“No need. How much is it?”
Gu Weirán took out her phone, ready to transfer the money. She didn’t feel bad about spending this money; it would be worth any amount.
Yún Shū’s reputation and safety couldn’t be measured by money.
“Don’t push yourself. Let’s do it together…”
“How much is it?” Gu Weirán asked again, without much expression. She disliked stalling and wouldn’t accept a favor without good reason.
Yáng ōu didn’t dare to say anything more, or else Gu Weirán would give him the cold shoulder, which he couldn’t handle.
“Eighty thousand.”
“Not too expensive.” Considering the significance of the article and the number of followers of the public account, Gu Weirán was willing to pay this price.
She transferred the money to Yáng ōu without hesitation. She trusted Yáng ōu’s character and didn’t need to verify the amount. In reality, the actual fee was one hundred thousand; Yáng ōu had deliberately lowered the amount.
Gu Weirán was stubborn, so this was the only way he could manage it.
At 11 PM, the article was successfully published. Yáng ōu found a Weibo marketing account to repost it, and simultaneously, using Fēng Qǐ as the center, they began radiating the news within their industry circle. Soon, a small-scale buzz was formed.
“CEO Yún!” Assistant Lǚ Xīn knocked quickly on the door.
Yún Shū looked up. “What is it?”
“There’s an article written about us. Please take a look. I think it’s time to collaborate with Líng Ruì Group to add more fuel to the fire. I’ve forwarded the article to your phone.”
Yún Shū opened the link and read the article carefully. It was well-reasoned and logically clear. It covered Míngdé’s founding history and corporate culture, and even brought up Míngdé’s past charitable work, using all the historical data to prove that Míngdé was not what the current rumors claimed.
It then used public relations techniques and strategies to analyze Míngdé’s current approach, and finally mentioned Yún Shū. Although it didn’t directly name her, a few lines brought out the danger and innocence of Yún Shū’s near-attack.
The writing was concise, long but not redundant, with a strong narrative and high readability.
“Who wrote it?” Yún Shū asked.
“It was first published by a self-media account called ‘Sān Liǎng Shì’ (A Few Matters). I just called and asked. They said someone submitted it anonymously, and they published it because they thought it was good.”
“And you believe that?”
“I don’t believe it,” Lǚ Xīn understood Yún Shū’s implication. “I’ll investigate further, and also contact Líng Ruì Group to see if we can collaborate on boosting it to create a continuous trending topic.”
Yún Shū nodded and read the article carefully again from start to finish. It was indeed a great article; even Míngdé’s marketing department couldn’t write at this level.
However, the writing style was very familiar.
The literary style, the use of rhetorical devices, and even the habit of referencing classics were all exactly like a certain person.
Could it be… Yún Shū turned her gaze to the hotel. The light in Gu Weirán’s room was off.
She frowned, tossed her phone back onto the desk, and stared blankly for a moment, unable to resist looking at the opposite building again, which remained completely dark.
What was she looking at? She shook her head helplessly. Just as she was thinking, two messages arrived simultaneously.
The chat boxes were from the two people she knew best. She clicked on Gu Weirán’s message first.
“Can’t sleep. I’m going to Bù Yè Chéng (The City That Never Sleeps) for a walk.”
Bù Yè Chéng was the only commercial coastal scenic area in A City, mainly targeting outside tourists. It was open 24 hours and was a must-visit place in A City.
Yún Shū had intended to take her there, but she didn’t expect her to go with someone else.
She smiled and replied: Okay.
Then, she clicked on the second unread message: “I’m back for a rare visit. Want me to show you around? Where do you want to go?”
Yún Shū tucked away her smile, thought for a moment, and replied: Bù Yè Chéng.