“Huasheng doesn’t hire people based on family background,”
came a calm voice from the doorway.
“It hires them for their ability.”
Vivian Wen stepped into the room, facing Summer head-on.
“That assistant bought local food to save time, to keep production moving.
That’s efficiency—not incompetence.”
Summer’s eyes narrowed.
“Vivian Wen. What business is this of yours?”
“None,” Vivian said lightly. “Just offering you a friendly reminder.”
She pulled out her phone, opened the calculator app, and began tapping.
“Today’s the final deadline for this shoot.
If you delay production, everyone here will have to work overtime.
Our average overtime rate is 500 RMB per hour.
With your current attitude, we’ll easily go six hours past schedule.
There are thirty staff members here—not counting the editors or lighting crew.
So that’s…”
She turned the screen toward Summer.
“Nearly 100,000 RMB in extra wages.
And that’s before electricity and equipment costs.
Tell me, do you think the company will happily pay that because you threw a tantrum?
Or will they make the one responsible cover it?”
Summer’s face drained of color.
She had never thought about it that way.
Her bravado faltered.
“F-fine. Forget it. I’ll shoot now.”
The crew exchanged quick glances—relief flooding their faces.
No one else had been able to handle the spoiled newcomer,
but Vivian had defused the situation in three sentences flat.
Genius, someone thought.
When she left the studio, the air felt lighter.
She finished her tasks, printed her reports, and clocked out right on time.

A few days later, Simon Min called.
He’d found several apartments near Huasheng and wanted her to check them out with him.
Vivian agreed eagerly.
That afternoon, they met and toured a cozy complex in a prime location—quiet, safe, affordable.
Vivian liked everything about it… except one thing.
She’d have to share it.
Still, given her budget, she was willing to compromise—
until she turned her head and saw her potential roommate waving a kitchen knife at thin air, shouting,
“En garde! I’ll kill you, demon!”
Every hair on Vivian’s neck stood up.
She grabbed Simon’s arm.
“Let’s go. Now.”
Once they left, the “crazy” girl sighed, wiping her forehead.
“Phew. Acting for the boss is no joke.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon visiting more apartments—
each with stranger problems than the last.
By evening, Vivian was exhausted and crestfallen.
“Graduation’s tomorrow,” she murmured.
“If I can’t find a place soon, I might end up sleeping on the streets.”
Simon looked at her, pretending to think casually.
“Actually… the place I’m renting is a bit pricey for just me.
A friend leased it to me at a discount.
If you don’t mind, we could… share it.”
Vivian blinked, stunned.
She remembered his apartment—the high-rise in a prime district,
a place worth tens of millions at least.
So that’s how he could afford it—through a friend.
Still, they were a man and a woman. Living together might cause trouble.
“That’s not really appropriate…” she hesitated.
Simon raised an eyebrow, voice low.
“You don’t trust me?”
“No, it’s not that…” she stammered, twisting her fingers.
“Then come stay. We’ll split the rent,” he said simply.
Vivian hesitated a beat longer—then nodded.
She really had nowhere else to go.
“Okay,” she said softly.
And just like that, two lives quietly began to intertwine.