Han Yan y on the bed in her small room, resting her head on her hand, staring bnkly at the ceiling. The sweltering summer heat filled the tiny space, and the snting rays of the setting sun cast their glow on the faded blue fabric of the curtains. The air was utterly still, without the faintest breeze, and the room felt like a massive oven. Sweat had already soaked the back of her neck, and the short hair on her forehead was damp as well.

  The quilt beneath her was warm to the touch; lying on it felt like resting on a gentle fme. She turned over, lifting her long hair from the back of her neck to the top of her head, exhaling a deep breath—though even her breath was hot. Gazing out the window, she saw the tall wall of a factory standing just outside. The gray and weathered surface was streaked with coffee-colored stains and rain marks—completely devoid of beauty. This afternoon was long and nguid, dried out by the sun, tasteless, scentless, and colorless.

  She hadn′t gone to work today. What about the days ahead? Not going to work—yes, Bai Peiwen had already made it clear that she wasn't cut out to be a factory worker. If she continued going, she would only be a burden to others. She absolutely couldn’t use a man’s fondness for her as a stepping stone. The job Bai Peiwen had arranged for her was something she couldn't accept. Not only that, but she also couldn't return to the tea processing factory. She had to find another way. Yes, another way! But how difficult those words were to put into practice. Where was her path forward? Blocking her way was nothing but a dead end.

  Sitting up on the bed, her body drenched in sweat, she felt an indescribable discomfort. She thought of Su Shi′s poem: “Jade-like skin, cool and sweatless by nature.” Surely, that girl wasn't confined to a stifling room like this. Otherwise, even jade-like skin couldn′t stay cool.

  She let out a sigh. Poetry, artistic dreams—these all required financial support to sustain. Reality was a cruel whip, capable of driving away all poetic sentiment and artistic beauty.

  She stood up and opened the back door. Beyond it was a small courtyard, where a hand pump was installed for drawing water—there was no running water here, only the pump to rely on. Behind the courtyard was the ndlord's house. This little room of hers was rented for 200 yuan a month. In truth, it was a makeshift structure the ndlord had built, utilizing the space in the courtyard to create this small room. Fortunately, it had two doors: one leading to the courtyard and the other to a narrow alley, allowing her some freedom to come and go.

  She went to the courtyard, pumped a rge basin of water, and brought it back into her room. She submerged her entire face in the water and then dipped her arms as well. The cool sensation brought a faint trace of relief. Straightening up, she looked around. There was no full-length mirror in the room, only a small hand mirror on the table. She picked it up and examined herself. Beneath her disheveled hair was a pale face, and her rge, unfocused eyes were filled with desotion. Setting down the mirror, she let out a long sigh.

  Sitting down at the table, she picked up a pen and began to write on a sheet of paper:

  "I grow poorer, so I must respect myself more.I am more insignificant, so I must cherish myself more.The smaller I am, the more I must treasure myself!"

  After writing these words, she felt a great sense of relief, as if even the stifling heat had eased. She combed her hair and changed into a light blue dress, deciding to go out for a walk. However, before she could step out, a sudden knock came at the door.

  Startled, she paused. Who would come to see her? She never had visitors in this tiny room.

  Walking to the door, she opened it and was even more surprised to see a man standing outside, smiling. He was tall, slender, and impeccably neat—Bai Peiwen!

  "Oh," she excimed in shock, "I didn't expect... I really didn't expect you would..."

  "It wasn't easy to find this pce," Bai Peiwen said with a smile. Without waiting for Han Yan to invite him in, he stepped inside, casually gncing around the simple room. He continued, "The car couldn't get through, so I had to park it at the entrance of the alley."

  "How did you know my address?" Han Yan asked as she closed the door and walked to the table to pour him a gss of boiled water. "I'm sorry, I only have pin water," she added.

  "Ah, it wasn't easy," Bai Peiwen said, leaning casually against the table, his gaze fixed on Han Yan. "I asked Cai Jinhua, then Cai Jinhua asked Yan Lili..." He stared at her intently. "Why didn't you come to work today?" His voice was low and deep, and the smile on his face had vanished. A sharp, piercing light fshed in his eyes, directed squarely at her face.

  "Oh!" She felt an inexplicable quickening of her heartbeat, his gaze making her shrink back. "I resigned, sir," she said softly, lowering her head.

  He continued to look at her without speaking, but his eyes carried a mixture of reproach, scrutiny, and a faint dissatisfaction. Turning slightly, his gaze fell on the piece of paper on the table. Picking it up, he studied the handwriting carefully. After a long pause, he set the paper down and raised his head, looking at her quietly.

  "Can we talk?" he asked.

  "Yes, Mr. Bai," she replied, her voice tinged with nervousness.

  He sat down on the chair by the table, his eyes fixed on her. She sighed softly, a hint of helplessness in the sound, and seated herself on the edge of the bed opposite him.

  There was only one chair in the room. Raising her gaze, she met his eyes, her expression passive.

  "Why did you resign?" he asked.

  "You said the job wasn't suitable for me."

  "I have a job that suits you," he replied.

  "Sir!" she pleaded, her voice trembling slightly.

  He picked up the piece of paper from the table, holding it in his hand, and nodded thoughtfully.

  "Is this what you mean?" he asked, staring at her. "What kind of person do you think I am? Do you think I brought you into my office just to serve as a decoration? Does your sense of self-respect allow you to casually reject someone's goodwill? In the end, my attempt to help you has left you unemployed. Don't you think this puts me in a difficult position? Oh, Miss Zhang," his gaze burned into hers, "aren't you being a bit excessive?"

  Han Yan stared at him, her wide eyes filled with a mixture of astonishment and helplessness. Her lips quivered as she stammered, "Oh, Mr. Bai, you—you shouldn′t say that. What you're saying is like accusing me without evidence!"

  "It's not an unfounded accusation," Bai Peiwen said sternly. "You've made me feel as though I've done something wrong."

  "Then what should I do?" Han Yan looked at him, her expression so pitifully resigned it tugged at the heart.

  "Accept the job I've arranged for you," Bai Peiwen said earnestly, striving to suppress the soft, compassionate feelings stirring deep within him.

  "Oh, Mr. Bai!" Her voice trembled slightly. "I don't want to make you uneasy, but—but, Mr. Bai..."

  "If you don't want to make me uneasy," Bai Peiwen interrupted her, "then stop saying ‘but’!"

  "But—but—"

  "There you go again!" he said, unable to suppress a smile. He had to exert great effort to control his facial muscles, preventing them from betraying his emotions.

  She stared at him, momentarily at a loss. This man gave her a sense of pressure, making it hard for her to breathe. He was so tall, so confident, and so forceful. In his presence, she felt small, fragile, and indecisive.

  "Alright, let's settle it, shall we?" Bai Peiwen pressed her further. "You′ll start work tomorrow!"

  "Oh, sir," she hesitated. "Do you really need an assistant?"

  "Are you worried I won't have work for you? Or that the pay will be too low?" he asked. "Ah, I forgot to mention the pay. Given your new position, which is equivalent to that of a secretary, we can’t calcute it by hourly wages. Let's say 2,000 yuan a month for now. How about that?"

  She remained silent, lowering her head.

  "What do you think?" he asked, a trace of impatience in his tone. The room was stifling, the heat oppressive, and beads of sweat were forming on his forehead.

  The twilight spilled in through the window, enveloping the room in its dusky glow. She sat on the edge of the bed, her head slightly bowed. The evening light framed her forehead and the bridge of her nose with a delicate golden edge, making her appear like a small statue—a finely crafted work of art.