Naughty Puppy Will Be Eaten by a Bad Woman - Chapter 12

“You clearly belong in a bigger world, yet you’re stuck here doing live commerce. Aren’t you frustrated?”

The approval for the Special Project Team came through, and Lu Zhao was immediately swamped with work.

She needed to recruit members quickly and get the project underway to meet Wei Ning’s stringent criteria for continued funding.

She mentally reviewed the staff from various departments at the Provincial Television Station. Fortunately, she had always maintained good relationships and knew quite a few people, allowing her to quickly assemble a preliminary list of candidates.

First, she sent a message to Fang Lin from the editorial department: “Lunch together?”

Fang Lin replied: “The sun must be rising in the west! Reporter Lu is actually eating a proper meal?”

Lu Zhao rubbed her temples. Since her amputation, she had indeed lost her appetite.

She often skipped breakfast entirely or just drank a protein shake as prescribed by her doctor. For lunch, she’d grab a pre-packaged snack or a piece of bread to tide her over until evening. Only then would her appetite return, allowing her to force down a proper meal.

To others, her invitation seemed suspiciously like she was only reaching out when she needed something.

At noon, Lu Zhao and Fang Lin met at the Provincial Television Station’s cafeteria.

As Lu Zhao stepped inside, the aroma of the food filled her nostrils—a familiar scent she hadn’t experienced in far too long.

Lu Zhao’s tray was piled high with food by the enthusiastic cafeteria ladies, who had ignored her request for just a little and instead heaped her plate into a small mountain.

With little appetite, Lu Zhao only picked at her food.

Fang Lin, having finished her own meal, began eating from Lu Zhao’s tray, justifying it as preventing food waste.

“The aunties are so nice to you,” Fang Lin said between bites, her mouth working tirelessly. “They always shake their hands when serving me.”

“Slow down, no one’s going to steal your food,” Lu Zhao said, watching Fang Lin devour her meal with envy.

“Alright, spill it, Reporter Lu. What’s up?” Fang Lin finally wiped her mouth, having eaten her fill.

“You must have seen the station’s announcement. Interested in joining the Special Project Team?” Lu Zhao cut straight to the chase.

“Sure,” Fang Lin replied instantly, her tone as casual as agreeing on where to have dinner.

Lu Zhao was slightly surprised. “Don’t you want to ask about the specifics? The project details, performance requirements, anything?”

Fang Lin stood up, tray in hand. “Isn’t it just the usual grueling work and Director Wei’s insane demands?”

Lu Zhao chuckled. “You’re not wrong.” She nodded in agreement.

Lu Zhao said, “I’ll talk to the Minister of the Editorial Department about having some of your workload distributed among other colleagues. That way, you’ll have more energy to focus on your work.”

After a pause, Lu Zhao added sincerely, “Thank you, Fang Lin.”

Fang Lin studied Lu Zhao for a moment. They had been interns together, rotating through various departments and doing odd jobs. Five interns had started together, but only the two of them remained.

The others had either left voluntarily to pursue other opportunities or been let go.

Fang Lin figured working anywhere was pretty much the same. The Provincial Television Station was at least a respectable employer, and she couldn’t be bothered to look for another job.

Of course, Fang Lin was clever. She never worked overtime on tasks that could wait until tomorrow, and she refused to do anything outside her job description, fully embracing the philosophy of a worker.

She even set her computer screensaver to a wallpaper with a small TV screen, dragged a drama series into it, put on her headphones, and opened a document as cover. This allowed her to secretly watch dramas while pretending to work.

After all, she completed her core tasks perfectly, leaving no room for criticism.

Lu Zhao, however, was different.

Lu Zhao was meticulous during work hours. Fang Lin’s workstation was right next to hers, and during their three-month internship, she never once saw Lu Zhao’s screen display anything unrelated to work.

Lu Zhao’s computer screen often displayed tasks from other departments. Fang Lin asked, “Why are you handling this too?”

Lu Zhao replied, “I was bored, so I helped out.”

Fang Lin was speechless. Lu Zhao’s “bored” meant completing at least five news briefs daily—from topic selection to production and distribution—while simultaneously managing a partner’s advertising campaign to attract new users.

At her age, brimming with youthful energy, Lu Zhao’s nightlife was vibrant. One night she’d be dancing at a bar, the next getting manicures with her best friends. Even when she stayed home, she’d either sleep or play video games.

Fang Lin asked Lu Zhao earnestly, “Do you have any hobbies? What do you do when you’re not working?”

Lu Zhao paused, considering the question. “Hmm… Reading books and news, does that count?”

Fang Lin’s eyes lit up, automatically dismissing the “news” part. As a devoted user of a certain green-themed reading app, she asked eagerly, “What kind of books? Novels?”

Lu Zhao nodded. “Yeah, some novels. I read them here.” She pulled a water-ink screen reader from her bag, opened her bookshelf, and showed it to Fang Lin.

Fang Lin’s vision blurred as she scanned the screen. It was filled with dense, challenging tomes, some even in their original foreign languages. These were serious works of literature, utterly unlike the lighthearted romance novels she enjoyed, more like the kind of books a university professor might recommend for a specialized course.

Fang Lin couldn’t understand why anyone would choose to read such heavy, convoluted literature filled with bitterness and resentment when life was already hard enough.

She gave up on finding any entertainment value in Lu Zhao’s reading habits.

Fortunately, despite their seemingly different worlds, Lu Zhao always managed to catch her jokes during conversations. She was well-versed in current events and popular culture, providing ample emotional support and making their conversations engaging.

After their probationary period, Fang Lin joined the editorial department, while Lu Zhao became an investigative reporter at the news center.

It wasn’t until some time after they had both been officially hired that Fang Lin accidentally discovered Lu Zhao’s connection to Wei Ning.

This baffled her even more. If she were Lu Zhao, she would have taken advantage of Wei Ning’s influence to secure a cushy, well-paid job where she could coast into retirement.

As Fang Lin and Lu Zhao walked back to the office building, Fang Lin turned to look at Lu Zhao. Over the years, they had both transformed from somewhat naive interns into capable professionals who could handle any challenge.

Lu Zhao, however, seemed unchanged, still working with the same relentless, almost reckless dedication.

Something felt different, though Fang Lin couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

Was it because of her injuries? It seemed to be more than that.

Her reasons for joining the team were simple: she wanted to help Lu Zhao and inject some variety and excitement into her own work.

After so many years, even someone as laid-back as her had grown weary of the monotony.

The midday sun was blinding. Lu Zhao walked ahead, her steps uneven. “I still need a cameraman and someone familiar with computers and data analysis… Oh, what do you think about Sister Zhou? And another intern…”

Fang Lin shook off the nagging feeling. What’s changed? Of course things change after a few years.

She caught up with Lu Zhao. “I’ll handle the cameraman and intern. I have a few candidates in mind…”

As they talked, the details gradually fell into place, and Lu Zhao felt more confident.

With the Special Project Team established, Lu Zhao needed to delegate her Live Commerce workload. She had already asked HR to post job openings for new live streamers.

Lu Zhao had a clear profile of her target audience, so she only had a few requirements: at least two years of live commerce experience, female candidates aged 25-40, and a distinctive personal broadcasting style.

Any additional rigid requirements from the Provincial Television Station were their concern. A batch of candidates would be arriving for interviews that afternoon.

After saying goodbye to Fang Lin, Lu Zhao returned to her office for a nap. She then freshened up and applied light makeup.

After all, I’m interviewing others; I need to look professional.

The interviews were held in the live broadcast studio, where cameras and lighting were already set up. Samples were piled high for easy access during the interviews.

Lu Zhao sat at the live broadcast control desk, its monitors already lit up. A stack of submitted resumes lay on the table.

A knock came at the door.

“Come in.”

The applicant stood before her—a sweet-looking young woman who appeared to be around Lu Zhao’s age. Lu Zhao glanced down at the resume.

“Please introduce yourself,” Lu Zhao said, gesturing for her to begin.

The woman nodded, cleared her throat, and began, “Hello, Reporter Lu. My name is Lin Xiaoyu. I graduated from Capital Arts University with a degree in Broadcasting and Hosting. I have two years of experience in live commerce with an MCN, achieving a peak average GMV of 60,000 yuan per session.”

Lu Zhao asked, “What product categories did you specialize in?”

“Beauty and cosmetics,” Lin Xiaoyu replied.

Lu Zhao immediately handed her a new product—a jar of honey preserves supporting local farmers. “Try this one.”

Lin Xiaoyu nodded and began, “Hello everyone! Today I’m recommending this honey. It’s completely natural, sourced from a remote mountain apiary…”

As Lu Zhao listened, her brow furrowed.

Lin Xiaoyu’s appearance was presentable, her delivery smooth, and her voice impeccable—as expected from a broadcasting and hosting graduate. However, her approach was too conventional, failing to highlight the unique features and selling points of the agricultural product.

Since the focus of her future work wouldn’t be on live commerce, Lu Zhao needed someone capable of skillfully managing all aspects of a situation.

She politely interrupted Lin Xiaoyu with a perfunctory question: “Why did you choose to join an MCN after graduating?”

Lin Xiaoyu answered frankly, “Because being a live streamer earns money quickly, and I needed money at the time.”

Lu Zhao nodded, giving her verdict immediately. “The product categories you’ve handled previously don’t quite align with our needs. I’m sorry, but it doesn’t seem like a good fit.”

Lin Xiaoyu didn’t hesitate. She gave a slight bow and said, “Alright, thank you, Reporter Lu,” before leaving.

Several more interviews followed, none of which satisfied Lu Zhao. Some candidates had the same issues as Lin Xiaoyu, while others were clearly just using the interview as an excuse to meet Lu Zhao. One applicant was even a man.

Lu Zhao wondered how HR had worded the job posting. Annoyed, she still managed to politely dismiss him, not wanting to waste either of their time.

As time slipped away, Lu Zhao began to think she wouldn’t find a suitable candidate today.

Well, better to have none than the wrong one.

The knock on the door sounded for what felt like the hundredth time.

“Come in,” Lu Zhao said, her voice weary.

She glanced down at the nearly empty stack of resumes. With several candidates having canceled, this was likely the last interview of the day.

Yu Longyan, 30 years old, 6 years of experience in live commerce.

Lu Zhao raised an eyebrow. Yu Longyan… A poetic name, like mist shrouding cold waters and moonlight veiling sand.

She straightened up, determined to give this last candidate her full attention.

Lu Zhao looked up, about to speak, but Yu Longyan smiled warmly and interjected, “You must be Reporter Lu. I’m Yu Longyan—though my fans call me ‘Yanyan.’ You can call me that too.”

This sudden attempt to create familiarity, rather than a rote self-introduction, caught Lu Zhao’s attention.

The woman before her had long, silky hair cascading down her shoulders. Her qipao-inspired dress, in a soft, watery blue, accentuated her mature, full-figured silhouette. With her striking appearance and refined demeanor, Lu Zhao’s first impression of her was quite favorable.

Lu Zhao nodded and continued, “Let’s start with introductions.”

“Sure, but I bet you’re more interested in seeing my skills in action?” Yu Longyan pulled up a chair and sat down, sliding a USB drive across the table. “This contains clips from my past live streams that each generated over a million yuan in sales. The products are similar to the ones you’re promoting now.”

Yu Longyan’s confidence surprised Lu Zhao. While the other streamers she had interviewed had all presented themselves as poised and professional, none had dared to break the established rules like Yu Longyan.

Lu Zhao plugged the USB drive into her computer and quickly skimmed through the clips, getting a sense of Yu Longyan’s performance.

She casually picked up a package of agricultural red dates from the table. “Let’s simulate a live stream with these.”

Yu Longyan took the red date, immediately launching into her sales pitch. She pinched a date and held it to Lu Zhao’s lips. “We won’t know how sweet this date is until you try it—Reporter Lu, open up?”

Lu Zhao recoiled sharply. “…I meant for you to demonstrate for the camera.”

Yu Longyan shrugged, immediately found the camera, and switched from her flippant tone to an enthusiastic broadcaster’s voice. “Attention, everyone! Even Reporter Lu from our Provincial Television Station can’t resist these red dates—”

Then, she suddenly lowered her voice. “Too bad you didn’t see her blushing just now. It was priceless~”

In no time, Yu Longyan had mastered the rhythm of a live commerce broadcast, handling it with apparent ease.

Lu Zhao asked, “Your resume says you left your previous company due to ‘ideological differences.’ What exactly happened?”

Yu Longyan’s smile faded slightly. “The company wanted me to promote unregulated health products. I refused.”

As she spoke, her gaze lingered on Lu Zhao’s prosthetic right leg.

“I have a weakness: I can’t stand seeing good things wasted, whether it’s products or… people.”

Lu Zhao’s pen, which had been taking notes, paused mid-stroke, leaving a blot of ink that spread like a dark stain.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

Yu Longyan chuckled softly. “You should be in a much bigger world, yet you’re stuck here doing live commerce. Aren’t you frustrated?”

Her words struck Lu Zhao’s sore spot, bordering on offensive.

Lu Zhao didn’t answer, nor did she show any anger. Instead, she looked up and smiled. “Yu Longyan, when can you start?”

After discussing specific salary and benefits with Yu Longyan, Lu Zhao waited for her to leave before getting up to stretch. As she stretched, she pulled out her phone.

To show respect during the interview, she had silenced her phone. Now, when she checked it, she discovered a message from Gu Xianyue sent shortly after the interview began:

Gu Xianyue: Dinner tonight? We need to talk.

An hour later, another message arrived:

I’m at the Provincial Television Station.

A sudden intuition led Lu Zhao to glance through the glass door. She saw Gu Xianyue and Wei Ning standing there, watching her. She wondered how long they had been waiting.

Gu Xianyue’s gaze was fixed on her, dark and inscrutable.