Chapter 38: There are Always More Solutions than Problems
Jiang Xiaoyuan sometimes thought that Qi Lian was like one of those archangels from TV shows who followed the poor, unattractive protagonists around, rescuing them from suffering. How could he speak like that?
It was simply too unfair.
In the past, others had always praised her, treated her so well, but Jiang Xiaoyuan never cherished it. After all, adding flowers to brocade was useless.
Now, after experiencing the harsh realities of life and people’s cold indifference, those willing to lend her a helping hand, to give her aid when she was down, seemed especially warm. Jiang Xiaoyuan felt like she would never forget them.
For example, Qi Lian, Boss Chen, Lily… and even Sister Zhang.
Moreover, Qi Lian was different from the other three, because they belonged to the categories of “shorty,” “girl,” and “auntie.” Even if they did the same things, the psychological impact of a handsome guy doing them was just different.
Though Jiang Xiaoyuan knew that Qi Lian was being so kind not because of her, but mostly out of guilt from that reckless car accident in his youth.
But she was still touched.
Jiang Xiaoyuan sniffled awkwardly, wanting to say something polite, but despite racking her brain, no words came. Instead, what slipped out was, “… Do you have any reliable Powerpoint templates? My boss wants me to make a presentation for him.”
That was all she said, and by evening, while she was sitting in a hotel room far from home, eating instant noodles and cramming research, she suddenly received a message from Qi Lian.
Qi Lian: “Create an email account and send me the address.”
Jiang Xiaoyuan wasn’t expecting much. She had already found many templates online, but most were useless. There was no way to create a proper presentation relying on templates alone. Still, since he asked, she set up an email and sent it to him.
And then she was stunned.
Qi Lian sent her a massive folder, which nearly crashed the hotel’s Wi-Fi during download. Inside were several subfolders, organized by different logical structures and presentation styles. Each subfolder contained one or two complete templates, with all the formatting done. All Jiang Xiaoyuan had to do was copy, paste, and fill in the text.
As if worried she wouldn’t know how to adapt the templates, Qi Lian had filled every page with detailed notes. He not only explained the purpose of each slide, like “concept statement” or “dialectical unity,” but also suggested the type of content and even how many words could fit. He had even considered any technical issues Jiang Xiaoyuan might encounter while editing the files, writing out simple, step-by-step instructions to solve them.
Jiang Xiaoyuan: “…”
At a moment like this, even if someone placed a mountain of gold and silver before her, it wouldn’t have moved her as much as this folder of templates.
Jiang Xiaoyuan felt so touched she couldn’t even finish her noodles. She wanted to send him a message asking if creating this had been a lot of work, but after typing it all out, she deleted it bit by bit—it was obvious it had been. Templates could be built up slowly, but such well-targeted instructions couldn’t just be found anywhere.
In the email, Qi Lian had written a single sentence: “There are always more solutions than problems,” as if he had a divine eye and knew the difficulties she was facing.
Jiang Xiaoyuan read this, tears welling up, and dove back into finishing her very first presentation.
She had just gotten halfway through when Empress Dowager Jiang’s call came in. Jiang Xiaoyuan had no choice but to drop everything and rush over.
Jiang Bo said to her, “Let me explain tomorrow’s work to you. Overall, there’s not much going on tomorrow. In the morning, I need to go to a friend’s place to give a talk to some of his students. I won’t bother with theory; I’m too lazy to prepare anything. I’ll mostly do demonstrations. I’m planning to show them how to do aging makeup. You’ll demonstrate on a model beside me. Can you do it?”
Jiang Xiaoyuan: “…”
She wasn’t even sure if “aging makeup” meant making a young person look old or doing makeup for elderly people.
Jiang Bo stared at her for two seconds, quickly detecting the confusion in her eyes, and frowned: “Forget it, I’ll do it.”
If he had just started scolding her, Jiang Xiaoyuan wouldn’t have minded, but this silent frowning made her a little scared.
She had already figured out that Jiang Bo was someone who showed his emotions. When he was upset, he’d vent right away, and once he did, it was like water under the bridge.
But if he started frowning, it usually meant he was keeping it in—he was truly dissatisfied with her.
A heavy weight settled in Jiang Xiaoyuan’s heart.
“In the afternoon, there’s an interview that I’ll handle. You don’t need to follow. In the evening, bring my tools to Jacquard Hotel. Be there at 5 sharp. I’ve got a private gig.”
And this was what he called “not much going on tomorrow.”
Jiang Xiaoyuan was utterly despairing.
Empress Dowager Jiang: “Oh right, did you finish the presentation I need for my Friday class? Bring it over for me to see.”
Jiang Xiaoyuan: “…”
Jiang Bo: “What?”
“Just a bit more, it still needs a little beautifying,” Jiang Xiaoyuan stammered, “Once it’s completely done, I’ll bring it to you.”
Jiang Bo’s face remained displeased, not a hint of a smile. After two seconds of silence, he suddenly spoke very seriously: “From now on, remember this: when I give you a task, be quicker. Don’t drag your feet. You’re already starting with a weak foundation, so if you don’t act proactively, how can I keep you around? Young people can’t afford to work like that out in the world.”
His tone wasn’t harsh, but his words weighed heavier.
Jiang Xiaoyuan was feeling incredibly aggrieved, but what could she say? She couldn’t very well tell the person responsible for her livelihood that it wasn’t because she was slow—it was because she simply didn’t know how.
Jiang Bo sighed, feeling incredibly conflicted. This new assistant was so difficult to work with, like an outsider with barely any skills, making him feel like he’d hired trouble. But looking at her, he also couldn’t bring himself to just fire her on the spot—she looked pretty pitiful, after all.
“Forget it,” he thought with a blank expression. “The probation period is only a month, right? I’ll just put up with it for a month. Consider it an act of charity.”
“Alright, go rest now,” Jiang Bo, still pale-faced, waved her off without bothering to get angry, saying coldly and indifferently, “Rest early today.”
It was as if he had said, “Go die early today.”
Jiang Xiaoyuan, full of pent-up frustration, slinked away along the wall.
She couldn’t understand why someone like Jiang Bo had even agreed to teach in their low-grade shop in the first place. Thinking back, it was probably due to some connection with the big boss up top.
In any case, she had seriously overestimated herself and underestimated Jiang Bo’s level. Now, a yawning chasm lay before her, and Jiang Xiaoyuan had no idea what to do.
If she had any sense, she might as well just take the initiative and resign before her probation period was up, sparing everyone the embarrassment of being let go. But it had taken her so much effort to get to this point. Could she really summon the courage to start over again, erasing all the memories of failure and trying anew?
Even if she could muster the courage, would the opportunity still be there?
Many people were smart and hardworking but might spend their entire lives waiting for a chance that never came, sinking into obscurity. Others might get lucky and stumble upon their dream opportunity, only to find themselves unprepared for it. In this sense, success really did seem to depend on the right combination of timing, circumstances, and luck.
It was just too hard.
Jiang Bo told Jiang Xiaoyuan to go rest, but there was no way she could rest. She slunk back to her room, and as she passed the full-length mirror in the doorway, she caught a glimpse of herself and was shocked. There were fine lines at the corners of her eyes, her complexion was bad, and she had no color in her face at all. Her eyes were dull and bloodshot, as if she were on her way to becoming the “yellow-faced woman” she had always heard about.
Beauty was so fragile. Even in the prime of youth, just a few sleepless nights could make a face wither like an unwatered flower.
Jiang Xiaoyuan rushed into the bathroom, splashing cold water on her cheeks until she saw a little color return. She then forced herself to smile at her reflection. The first attempt failed miserably—her smile looked worse than crying.
So she closed her eyes, cleared her mind, and took a deep breath. Ignoring the heavy weight on her chest, she tried again, managing this time to smile at her reflection.
“You smile like a complete idiot,” she muttered critically to herself before turning away—but despite everything, she felt better, ready to face another round of ** from life.
This was something she had no clue about initially, so it was unlikely she would immediately impress everyone. “Learning by doing” was certainly a valid approach, but this “learning” didn’t start from scratch. Without Qi Lian’s near-foolproof template, Jiang Xiaoyuan wouldn’t just fail to produce anything reliable—she might have spent the entire night lost in the question of “where to start.”
Not only did Qi Lian provide her with a template, but he also helped her organize the logical sequence. All Jiang Xiaoyuan had to do was sort through Jiang Bo’s scattered lesson notes, piece them together logically, and fill them in. Of course, just deciphering the confusing shorthand in Teacher Jiang’s notes was already a challenge.
For the first time, Jiang Xiaoyuan realized that her poor academic performance back in the day might not have been solely due to her love for fun and fashion—her talent and intelligence probably played a role too.
This thought briefly plunged her into a bit of a low mood, but it didn’t last more than five minutes before she snapped back to life—she remembered that in this world, she had once been the top scorer in the imperial exams.
Top scorer—could that be a fluke?
So her intelligence was just dormant, not non-existent.
With that realization, Jiang Xiaoyuan enthusiastically threw herself back into work. She imagined her “dormant” intelligence as the legendary meridians of martial arts. Once activated and cleared, she’d be invincible, sweeping away all obstacles. Just imagining it filled her with a sense of boundless energy, as if she had inhaled a dose of spiritual opium.
Before she knew it, Jiang Xiaoyuan had sat still for over four hours. Apart from a brief bathroom break, she was practically a statue as still as a mountain.
By around 1:30 AM, she finally completed her first-ever full lesson presentation, and surprisingly, it looked pretty good—although Jiang Xiaoyuan knew that the credit for its appearance went entirely to Qi Lian.
Exhausted, she collapsed into her chair, her mind blank but not yet overtaken by sleep.
Driven by some inexplicable impulse, she picked up her phone and sent Qi Lian a message: “Finished the presentation. Thank you. I’ll treat you to a meal next time.”
Only after sending it did she realize how ridiculous she was. It was so late; surely he was already asleep.
Jiang Xiaoyuan then reviewed her work from start to finish, filled with an indescribable sense of accomplishment. She made a few final tweaks, noted down all the parts she didn’t fully understand for further research, and decided to read some books—relying on Baidu often yielded superficial or contradictory information that seemed unreliable.
After finishing all this, she was too tired to wash her face or change clothes and climbed into bed, already anticipating that she’d look like a total mess the next day.
At that moment, her phone buzzed with a message. Surprised, she checked and saw that Qi Lian had actually replied.
Qi Lian: “Good to hear. Let me know if you need anything. Good night.”
In the dead of night, someone spoke a few words to her, and Jiang Xiaoyuan was inexplicably moved.
She was even more touched when she noticed that he didn’t say things like “get some rest” or “don’t overwork yourself”—useless pleasantries she didn’t need.
Leaning against her pillow, she basked in that warmth for a while, still too awake to fall asleep. Then, as if jolted back to life, she sat up suddenly.
Jiang Xiaoyuan reopened Jiang Bo’s computer and hastily cleared her browsing history—the only computer skill she had mastered, honed in her teenage years during battles of wits with her tutor over mindless variety shows.
“Can’t let Empress Dowager Jiang know I was clueless.” Jiang Xiaoyuan resolved with determination.
This time, as soon as her head hit the pillow, she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
The next morning, Jiang Xiaoyuan was startled by her reflection—she looked like she could walk straight into a “Resident Evil” movie. Fortunately, Jiang Bo’s makeup kit was in her hands. She hurriedly borrowed some of it and gave herself a fresh, pink-toned look. She wasn’t entirely satisfied—the exhaustion in her eyes didn’t match the makeup at all.
But there was no time to fix it. Jiang Xiaoyuan had to put on a brave face and prepare for another day’s battle.
Empress Dowager Jiang was radiant, like a queen who was right in everything except his gender. She walked through the hotel lobby as if no one was around and walked to the door to pick him up.
Jiang Xiaoyuan, hugging his laptop and tools like a weightlifter struggling with dumbbells, jogged after him.
Jiang Xiaoyuan: “Teacher, I finished the presentation for your Friday class. When would you like to take a look?”
“Look at what? Teacher Jiang shot her a glance. “Just save it on the desktop with the course date, and I’ll check it when I have time. No sense of timing.”
Jiang Xiaoyuan: “…Oh.”
No one cared whether she worked half the night or the whole night. Sometimes, a person’s hard work really is just their own—meaning nothing to others.
“Right, there wasn’t any witnesses.” Jiang Xiaoyuan thought silently.
But after the constant setbacks over the past few days, she had grown numb. She wasn’t as hurt as she had expected. With her fragile ego tucked away, Jiang Xiaoyuan fixed her exaggeratedly fatigued expression and prepared to sit in on Jiang Bo’s class.
After researching the night before, she had learned that “old-age makeup” was actually a type of special effects makeup, a basic entry-level skill. It was the perfect opportunity for her to learn, and she wasn’t going to miss the chance to observe up close.
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