Paper Lover At Old Town Bookstore Chapter 21

The President Arrives

The moment I turned and stepped onto the stairs, a few hushed whispers drifted up from the cubicle area below, slipping through the gaps in the stairwell and into my ears: “Don’t you think Director Song has been looking for Xu Xingruo way too often these past two months?”

“Tell me about it! Before, unless she made a mistake at work, he wouldn’t even look her way. Now, he comes down every day to ‘check up’ on her, always finding excuses to ask her for supplementary reports. It’s clearly different.”

“And did you notice? When chatting about gossip, Xu Xingruo calls him Qiusheng directly. Who else would dare? Maybe it’s really like Assistant Lin said…”

The rest of the conversation faded, but it felt like tiny needles lightly pricking my heart.

My steps paused, and my fingers tightened around the edge of the file folder. The wooden corner pressed hard into my palm. So, it wasn’t just Lin Zhiqing who noticed; even other colleagues had sensed this abnormality.

Lin Zhiqing quickly caught up behind me, leaning close to my ear, his voice laced with unconcealed mockery: “Director Song, did you hear that? The masses have sharp eyes. Your ‘checking up’ has been too obvious. Now the whole company is guessing about your relationship.”

I didn’t turn back or refute him, simply quickened my pace up the stairs. The sound of my leather shoes on the steps was heavier than before, as if trying to mask the turmoil in my heart.

The colleagues’ discussion replayed in my mind, along with the way Xu Xingruo had secretly glanced up at me just now—did she also hear this gossip? Was she bothered by it? That unclarified concern instantly became wrapped in a layer of inexplicable anxiety, making my breathing feel heavy.

I had just sat down at my desk, my fingers not yet touching the takeout box, when a light knock sounded on the office door.

Before I could respond, the President’s figure pushed the door open. His sharp suit made his presence even more composed. His gaze swept over the takeout on the desk, finally settling on my face: “Song Qiusheng, spare me ten minutes, I need to discuss something.”

I quickly stood up, subconsciously moving the takeout toward the corner of the desk: “President, please sit.” My heart inexplicably sped up—at this time, the President suddenly seeking me out was mostly related to company affairs, yet the colleagues’ whispers from downstairs uncontrollably flashed through my mind, making me feel vaguely guilty.

The President sat on the sofa opposite me, his fingers lightly tapping the armrest. He got straight to the point: “The grassroots projects have been progressing well recently. That intern, Xu Xingruo, has performed very prominently.”

He paused, looking up at me, his eyes carrying a hint of scrutiny, “I heard from the Administration Department that you have been personally overseeing her work frequently these past two months, and even specifically arranged quite a few practical tasks for her?”

I clenched my hands, forcing myself to respond calmly: “She has strong learning abilities and is worth focusing on developing. Moreover, the project requires a grassroots perspective, and my personal oversight improves efficiency.” Although I said this, I dared not meet the President’s gaze, afraid he would spot a flaw.

The President chuckled softly, his tone meaningful: “Song Qiusheng, you are a core member of the company, and I have always trusted you. But the workplace has its rules. It’s fine to look after an intern, but don’t let personal emotions influence your work judgment.”

He stood up and patted my shoulder, “Xu Xingruo’s regularization assessment should follow the standard procedure. No need for special consideration.”

Only after the office door closed did I finally relax, a thin layer of sweat already coating my back. The President’s words were like a bucket of cold water, extinguishing the inexplicable heat I had felt earlier—he had clearly heard the gossip too.

I looked at the takeout on the desk, which was already cold, feeling a mix of emotions. I was afraid the colleagues’ discussions would affect Xu Xingruo, and also afraid that my own vague feelings had truly crossed a line.

The President’s words acted as an invisible warning line, forcing me to abruptly stop my frequent trips downstairs.

For the next month, I confined myself to my second-floor office. All work communication was relayed through Lin Zhiqing. Even when I occasionally needed grassroots data, I would just message Xu Xingruo to report directly via email, no longer finding excuses to “check up.”

The office window faced the direction of the first-floor cubicle area. Occasionally, when I looked up, the sight that entered my view made my heart clench—Yang Changwen was sitting in the empty seat I used to frequent.

Like Xu Xingruo, he was a relatively new intern, but much more outgoing than her. He was currently leaning close to her, holding a report, speaking animatedly: “Xingruo, look at the logic here. I think we could use a different algorithm; the efficiency would be much higher!”

Xu Xingruo was listening intently, head bowed, occasionally nodding in response, a polite, faint smile on her face. However, her fingers were subconsciously gripping her pen, completely different from the bright-eyed look she had when chatting with me about gossip.

Yang Changwen seemed unfazed by her reserve, sometimes raising a hand to pat her shoulder, sometimes leaning closer to the screen. Their proximity was quite conspicuous.

When Lin Zhiqing came in to deliver documents, he followed my gaze downward, his tone carrying a hint of speculative curiosity: “Director Song, that intern Yang Changwen is quite proactive. He sticks to Intern Xu every day. He says they’re discussing work, but I think he’s probably interested.”

I gripped the pen in my hand, my knuckles turning white, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from downstairs.

The colleagues’ whispers started to faintly drift up again: “The two interns look quite compatible together. Yang Changwen seems cheerful, much better than when Director Song was down here every day with a cold face.” “Xu Xingruo doesn’t look toward the stairwell much now. She’s probably gotten close to Yang Changwen.”

These words stabbed at my heart like needles, making my breathing labored. The “avoidance” I thought I was practicing was to prevent her regularization from being affected and to keep her from being troubled by gossip. But I hadn’t expected that it would allow another intern to seize the opportunity.

Watching Yang Changwen naturally hand her a hot coffee, and watching her hesitate for a moment before accepting it, the concern that I had suppressed for a month instantly surged up, mixed with intense jealousy and regret—who was I to give up the chance to approach her just because of what others might think?