Chapter 12 — Playing Poor with the Heiress

"Old Chu, can you please stop following me?"

"He is concerned about you."

"He is a spy!"

"Remember to buy coffee early tomorrow."

"..."

"What does that have to do with my father?"

"La Flor is not bad, but she might prefer a Geisha instead."

I shoved the phone into my pocket, offering no further response. I tilted my head to look at the sky. The Shanghai night was devoid of stars, yet the air tonight felt surprisingly less oppressive than usual. I mounted my battered electric scooter and began the slow trek back to my rented room. A light breeze stirred, carrying the faint, earthy scent of sycamore leaves. My mind kept circling back to a singular dilemma: for tomorrow morning's coffee, should I choose La Flor or Geisha? Forget it. I would buy both. One for her, one for me. We were both pretending to be destitute, after all, but even the poor can enjoy a fine cup of coffee. The only requirement was that the cup itself shouldn't look too pretentious.

Thursday arrived. Wang De-Fa did not show up for work. His office door remained locked, the interior lights dark. By nine in the morning, the General Manager of Human Resources descended personally to paste an official notice upon Wang’s door. The phrasing was strictly formal, essentially stating that due to personal reasons, Wang had been suspended from his duties effective immediately to undergo an investigation.

The marketing department erupted. Li Xiang was the first to leap to his feet. "Damn! I told you all there was something wrong with that guy!"

Chu Minh slammed his hand against the desk. "They should have investigated him ages ago! He’d always mangle our proposals before throwing them to the clients, then blame us whenever something went wrong!"

Others chimed in, their voices overlapping. The resentment that had been suppressed for so long was finally finding its release. I sat at my station, refraining from joining the fray, though the corners of my mouth curled into a smile. Directly across the aisle, To Niem was lowered over her cup of coffee. Geisha. I had left it on her desk that morning. She took a sip, her eyes lifting to scan through the clamor of the crowd until they landed steadily on me. She raised her cup in a subtle, almost invisible gesture. No one else noticed, but I understood perfectly. It was a "thank you" and a "cheers" all in one.

I lifted my own paper cup and, across the span of the office, clinked it against hers in the air. La Flor against Geisha. A disguised scion against a disguised heiress. A five-thousand-yuan salary against one of forty-eight hundred. The charade continued, yet in the audience, only the two of us remained aware of the true faces beneath the masks.

At ten-thirty, my office phone rang. It was an internal line.

"Chen Du? This is Manager Zhang from HR."

"Hello, Manager Zhang."

"I assume you have heard that Department Head Wang has been suspended? The marketing department currently has no direct supervisor. I will be managing the team on behalf of the company for the time being, so feel free to come to me directly if you have any issues."

"Understood."

"Additionally, the higher-ups are looking to appoint a new head for the marketing department soon. Would you be interested in the position?"

I paused, stunned. "What do you mean?"

"The auditing team has reviewed your proposals; they say they are very well written. Moreover, even though your tenure here is not particularly long, the feedback from your colleagues has been quite positive..."

"Manager Zhang," I interrupted, "I have only been here for eight months."

"Special circumstances call for special measures. Of course, this is merely gauging your interest; the formal process would still have to be followed."

"I will give it some thought."

"Very well, no rush. Just get back to me by the end of the week."

I hung up and leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. A promotion? Promoting myself within my own family's company? Did this count as moving assets from the left hand to the right? Besides, if I were to become a department head, the act of feigning poverty would become significantly harder to justify. A manager who commutes by subway and eats boxed lunches?

As I pondered this, my phone vibrated. A message from To Niem on WeChat.

"Congratulations."

"News travels fast."

"Manager Zhang is not exactly known for being quiet."

"..."

"This godforsaken office has terrible soundproofing."

"So, will you take it?"

"What do you think?"

"Take it."

"Why?"

"Because you have the competence, and this department needs a normal manager. If you refuse, what happens if they parachute in a Version 2.0 of Wang De-Fa?"

I stared at the screen, contemplating. She was right. Moreover, if I accepted the position, I could at least ensure that for the remaining four months of this "life experience," no one else in the marketing department would be oppressed.

"What will you write in your final audit report?" I asked.

"I will write the truth. The management layer suffers from corruption, but the company's reaction was swift, and its self-cleansing capacity is decent. The grassroots staff are high-quality and possess strong execution skills. Overall assessment: worthy of investment."

"Just that?"

"I am adding one note."

"What note?"

"The hidden boss of this company is a top-tier actor; cooperation is recommended."

I laughed. I set the phone down and stood up to head to the breakroom for water. As I passed To Niem’s desk, I paused. She looked up.

"To Niem."

"Yes?"

"How much longer until your audit is finished?"

"A little over two months."

"And after that?"

"I go back to my father’s company."

"So, in the future..." I began, then stopped, realizing this wasn't really my style. It was too direct. But she seemed to understand exactly what I was asking.

"Let’s talk about the future in the future," she said, her voice soft as she returned to her keyboard. "For now, let's just finish playing poor."