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Chapter 11: Change
She lost the deal because she was inexperienced. She hadn’t done her homework properly—only later did she find out that the former dean’s sister-in-law was also in the medical equipment business.
That same night, someone at the hospital told her the machine had already malfunctioned twice this month. Even their after-sales team couldn’t pinpoint the cause, and the dean was already on the verge of exploding.
If it hadn’t been so late, Zhuang Jie would’ve gone straight to visit him. Now that the former dean had retired, she was at least familiar with the new one.
She steadied herself and headed to the hospital with full momentum. Unexpectedly, she ran into the dean on the way. The moment he saw her, he said sourly, “You sure get news fast.”
Zhuang Jie just smiled and followed him into the office, intending to ask where the problem lay. But the dean was busy yelling into phone calls, completely absorbed in his anger and had no time for her.
Reading the room, she quietly closed the door and went straight to the equipment department instead. She studied the machine first, then called her company’s after-sales engineer and relayed every detail. After waiting for about an hour, she was chatting warmly with the department staff when the technician finally arrived to inspect the issue.
The equipment had been purchased two years ago from a small manufacturer—still worth several hundred thousand yuan. The hospital wouldn’t replace it easily.
Zhuang Jie stayed until nearly noon, and only left after the problem was finally identified.
On the way out, she received a call from the dean.
“So this is your long-game strategy, huh?” he said coldly. “Such a good opportunity and you didn’t even try to push your company’s products?”
Zhuang Jie laughed openly. “This machine can still last another two years. I’ll come back and sell you something then.”
Before hanging up, she added, “I told you—this is exactly why you should always buy from global top-tier companies. Service and after-sales are guaranteed…”
The call ended abruptly.
Zhuang Jie had spent years learning under senior mentors, constantly visiting hospitals—big ones, small ones, public, private, specialized—none were left out. She went daily, whether or not there was a sale. The goal was familiarity, and learning industry knowledge.
She herself had a disability. Whether she was in an office or a department, whether facing a dean or a nurse, few people would openly give her a hard time. And in this industry, nobody was particularly likable anyway.
She used that to her advantage. She was straightforward and warm, often bringing small gifts or snacks to departments. Over time, she built a very good reputation.
Now, she was rushing to another hospital she had been tracking for a long time. They were preparing to replace their equipment, but rumors said they intended to go domestic—supporting local brands.
Damn it.
She cursed under her breath as she walked.
When she arrived, she immediately ran into a competitor—a domestic supplier—chatting happily with the department director. Her heart sank. To avoid awkwardness, she detoured all the way to the dean’s office.
The dean wasn’t there. He was at lunch.
Only then did she realize it was already past one.
She used her hospital meal card, got something soft and simple, and sat down to eat. While she was halfway through, a doctor she knew well came over with his tray.
They chatted briefly before he finally lowered his voice and said, “The equipment’s already been ordered.”
Zhuang Jie froze and looked at him.
He gave her a small nod, then changed the topic.
She thanked him quietly. He told her not to take it to heart—it wasn’t her capability, there were other reasons. He’d only heard rumors himself and couldn’t say more.
Zhuang Jie left the hospital, bought a hot drink on the commercial street, and just as she took a sip, a WeChat message from Wang Xixia popped up.
She said she had sent Zhuang Jie some bird’s nest soup.
Zhuang Jie asked where she got it.
“Xú Qīnghé gave it to me,” Wang replied, then casually recounted how he’d seen her cursing like a shrew that day.
Zhuang Jie asked, “And how did he react?”
“He went to the property management office and had the trash bins moved.”
Zhuang Jie sent a thumbs-up. “Impressive.”
Wang Xixia replied, “We’ve got a meeting. Training starts tomorrow. Talk later.”
Zhuang Jie didn’t respond. She glanced at her notes—she also had training at the end of the month.
On her subway ride back to the company, she suddenly thought of Chen Maidong. It passed quickly, not deep enough to leave a trace.
Then a friend request popped up.
She opened it—the profile picture was a corporate headquarters building. Without thinking, she accepted.
The reply came immediately:
“Why did you delete me?”
Then another: “Are you mad?”
Zhuang Jie didn’t respond.
Another message came in, short and direct:
“Ji Tong.”
She thought: of course Ji Tong knows why I deleted him. She just didn’t expect him to add her back with a different account.
She didn’t like making enemies. If they could talk, they were friends; if not, just acquaintances.
She had regretted deleting him almost immediately—there would be work overlap anyway.
Before she could decide how to reply, the screen kept showing “typing…” Then a 60-second voice message arrived.
Before she even finished listening, three more followed.
She played them one by one.
He wanted things back to how they were: colleagues at work, friends in private.
Zhuang Jie had never seen such an indecisive man. He wrapped everything in polite language, even brought up his family expectations. He said he couldn’t promise anything, but if she were willing to study abroad for two years, his family might accept her more easily.
That was basically nothing at all.
She got off at a random stop, found a quiet corner, and replied:
“I understand your plan, but sorry, I don’t have enough courage or security to go with you. I don’t know what happens after two years—what if your family still doesn’t accept me? I won’t change myself for anyone. I’m fine as I am. I already knew the outcome when I confessed.”
Ji Tong didn’t reply for a long time.
She guessed he had been drinking. Otherwise, with his pride, he wouldn’t have said something like this.
She lit a cigarette and sent one more message:
“Let’s just keep it professional from now on. No need to be friends. Take care.”
Still no reply.
She went home against a biting wind. Zhang Danqing had made chicken soup waiting for her, thanking her for taking care of her lately.
Zhuang Jie was genuinely touched. On a day like this, a bowl of hot soup was perfect. She drank three bowls in a row.
Then she drew a bath and filled the tub—she had specifically bought it two years ago because she loved soaking.
Zhang Danqing sat on the carpet drafting essays, surrounded by messy drafts. Her habit of scattering things everywhere hadn’t changed.
The temperature dropped sharply that day. After a full day of wind, Zhuang Jie felt numb. She came out in a bathrobe, made herself some cold medicine, and sneezed several times on the way back—she was probably catching a cold.
Seeing Zhang Danqing writing, she asked if she wanted coffee.
“Thanks, sis,” Zhang replied.
Zhuang Jie made her coffee and sat on the sofa with her medicine.
The wind outside howled harder.
She picked up a draft, unfolded it, and praised, “This is actually good.”
“Not really. The mood isn’t there,” Zhang said.
“I think it’s fine.”
Zhang Danqing pointed at the window. “Sis, describe the weather right now.”
“Damn, the wind is strong.”
“Expand it. What month? What kind of wind? Why is it so strong?”
“Late autumn. The wind outside is fucking strong.”
“…My face is getting chapped.”
She took a sip of medicine and asked for a face mask.
Zhang Danqing sighed. “Sis, your writing lacks depth.”
“I don’t have depth,” Zhuang Jie said. “I like Ā Chéng’s style—plain, direct, no affectation. Precise, worldly, powerful.”
“China only has so many Ā Chengs,” Zhang muttered, looking out at the wind. “I miss home. I miss my mom’s fish lung soup.”
“Then go back. You’re close enough.”
They drifted into talking about strange deaths.
Zhuang Jie said, “In my hometown, during high-speed rail construction, a worker fell into a bridge pier and got sealed in concrete.”
“What’s a bridge pier?”
“The support under an elevated bridge.”
“Did they save him?”
“They said he was sealed in.”
“I can’t picture it.”
“Like in Les Enfants Terribles—the couple sealed in cement. But I only heard it from rumors.”
Later, Zhang Danqing went to sleep. Zhuang Jie cleaned up the drafts and listened to the wind.
She thought: I should buy a wool coat.
A black ankle-length one.
Warm enough.
Then she thought about wool pants.
Her phone rang—Tao was calling from home. Cold weather had hit there too.
Zhuang Jie said Shanghai was fine, just windy.
She had nerve pain in her amputated limb when the weather changed. It came in waves. She had undergone surgery before, but it never fully stopped. She had learned to live with it.
A former hospital roommate had phantom limb pain—that was even worse.
While she was talking earlier, it had flared briefly, but now it had passed.
Tao talked about her new job training.
Zhuang Jie said she’d help promote her store when she learned it.
Tao warned her not to owe too many favors.
Zhuang Jie said she understood—but friendships were about mutual help.
After hanging up, she received another friend request:
“I’m Beckham.”
Profile picture: David Beckham in a suit.
…
She stared at it.
Then another request came:
“Let’s be friends.”
Zhuang Jie was in the middle of negotiating a hospital procurement contract—discussing service and after-sales details—when she received a call from home.
She rejected it once. The second time, she stepped out to answer.
Tao told her:
“Uncle He is in emergency care.”
Zhuang Jie went back into the office and apologized to the dean, saying someone would follow up the rest of the work. Then she grabbed her coat and rushed out.
Her trainee followed, panicked. “What happened? We were about to close the deal!”
She called a trusted colleague and asked her to finish it.
This was the same hospital where the equipment had repeatedly malfunctioned—and just today they had invited her back, saying they were considering purchasing another unit.
For Zhuang Jie, it had been a huge breakthrough.
She immediately booked tickets, packed, and headed to the high-speed rail station.
But just as she sat down, Tao called again.
A long silence.
Then:
“Come home directly.”
Zhuang Jie understood.
It meant death.
When she returned to Nanping Town, Uncle He’s body had just been brought back from the city.
The accident happened at the factory. While moving a large machine left behind by the previous owner, it tilted and collapsed. One relative was severely injured; Uncle He died in emergency rescue.
Zhuang Jie had no time to grieve.
She was immediately pulled into handling everything—starting with picking up Zhuang Yan from the city and explaining funeral procedures on the way.
There was no time for emotion yet.
