Who would have thought that to survive in a company that doesn't pay, you have to treat work like a Live Action Role Playing Game.
On the fourth day after leaving Hibiscus City Grand Hotel, Hu Xiu would see Qin Xiaoyi when she opened her eyes in bed and see Qin Xiaoyi when she closed them.
Every time she left Hibiscus City Grand Hotel, it was like this—Hu Xiu would be obsessed for quite a while, constantly replaying Qin Xiaoyi's movements and gaze, afraid she might forget his face. The scent of the mint candy he carried was unlike the mint candies she usually kept. Every time she passed a convenience store, she would go in and browse. Her bedside was now piled with mint candies. The moment she popped one into her mouth and the flavor spread, she would start reminiscing. The cool breath lingered around her lips and teeth, and if she got close enough, it almost felt like kissing Qin Xiaoyi.
After sucking on so many candies, she felt a chill running through her body, and she knew she couldn't go on like this.
No matter how handsome Qin Xiaoyi was, she couldn't lose her rationality. Her bank account only had 2,500 yuan left—just enough for this month's rent. She absolutely couldn't afford to go out for fun anymore.
Thankfully, this place was a 40-minute drive from Xu Jingdong's stop, in a house prone to frequent power outages. Thinking back to when she lived in the city center, with this balance, she would have been kicked out by the landlord long ago.
Yet she had lived in this freezing-in-winter, scorching-in-summer house for a year, spending most of her time lost in thought.
These 365 days of staying at home were a life Hu Xiu had never experienced before. From elementary school to graduate school and then to work, her life had been packed without rest—holidays spent cramming for exams and practicing piano, college years devoted to mastering foreign languages, acing the BEC Higher and scoring over 90 on the TEM-8, working as a conference interpreter during her master's, and reaching the top level of CATTI. She was practically an emotionless exam machine.
The endless practice was like muscle memory gifted to her by her father: if you feel tired, just push yourself a little harder.
But after the broken engagement, she was distracted for a full three months. She didn't pass the probation at her new company either. After moving to the suburbs, the thing she did most was lie in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.
She had witnessed every kind of weather outside her window—sunny, cloudy, rainy, snowy. Her sleep schedule, disrupted by sudden work demands, became irregular. Her daily screen time averaged eight hours, scrolling through Weibo, Douyin, and WeChat moments. The overstretched rubber band that was her life suddenly went slack, and even her sense of guilt felt distorted. She wanted to bury herself under the covers and stay down—lying flat was just too comfortable!
But now she couldn't keep lying flat. She had to quickly get the money from her freelancing gig, cancel the lease in the suburbs, and find a proper translation job, preferably in interpreting.
If she could get into a stable company, she would have a steady income to see Qin Xiaoyi.
With a stable income, no matter what, she could save tens of thousands from translation work. Forget meeting twice a month—she could even afford to meet twice a week.
Besides, this part-time job, which Zhao Xiaorou and Li Ai had criticized many times, was notorious for withholding pay and ignoring payment reminders. They only settled payments twice a year, and this last one had been delayed for six months. Yesterday, they even called her to come to the office for a meeting with the client.
Zhao Xiaorou had repeatedly told her she was being taken advantage of, and Hu Xiu had secretly resolved to quit several times.
But she was always coaxed back by the company, unable to resist the idea that harmony brings wealth.
Now, sitting on her bed, the more she thought about it, the angrier she got. She made a solemn vow to herself: if she didn't get the money back today, she would never see Qin Xiaoyi again.
Love makes people strive. Once content with lying flat and living beyond her means, idle until she hit rock bottom, Hu Xiu now jumped out of bed, as efficient as if she were heading to her wedding chamber with Qin Xiaoyi.To look like a fashionable copywriter, Hu Xiu dug out the Dior lipstick set she’d bought years ago from home, took an electric screwdriver to punch four holes in it, threaded a leather chain through, and—by rough approximation—crafted herself a Dior bag.
Once she slung it over her shoulder, a wave of melancholy washed over her. Aside from holding lipsticks and tissues, the bag couldn’t even fit an umbrella, let alone a laptop. The four holes she’d drilled were clumsy, and after filing the edges, they only grew rougher.
Why hadn’t she bought a decent bag back when she had money? She’d actually believed materialism devoured humanity.
After some thought, Hu Xiu pulled out her well-worn canvas tote, stuffed her laptop inside, and headed out.
She arrived at Taolin Road at 10:30 a.m., drenched in sweat from the morning rush hour. She wrote Above-the-line copywriting for an advertising agency called Enlighten, in the beauty division, working with a cosmetics group that had four or five product lines under Enlighten.
Her job used to be easy—just quarterly copy for the Tmall store—but gradually, with shifting market trends, it expanded to live streams. The word count kept increasing, yet she still worked only four or five times a month, earning 4,000 yuan paid monthly.
The reason they hired freelancers wasn’t because the company lacked copywriters—it was because no one wanted the job. Any in-house copywriter in the beauty team was tormented daily; hiring part-timers was to reduce how often the client harassed them.
Delayed payments were the norm in advertising, but when delays pushed people to the brink, even the poor would rise up in rebellion.
Hu Xiu silently vowed to herself: Don’t soften up. Absolutely quit. Don’t be fooled by sweet talk again.
With money, she could go to a Live Action Role Playing Game to find Qin Xiaoyi. Therapists charged by the hour, but seeing Qin Xiaoyi averaged 150 yuan an hour, and she’d be euphoric for half a month afterward—what a bargain!
Cuixi walked into the meeting room holding coffee, greeting her weakly, “Sorry, Xiuxiu, there’s a lot to write and revise today. If we call, it might mean bombarding you nonstop, so let’s make the changes face-to-face. The client will give direct feedback, and their attitude will be better than if we relay messages back and forth.”
“No problem…”
“About the money… Finance isn’t in today, probably off dealing with renovations again. Kai Zi, is Xiaowen Jie here today?”
“No, she’s supervising her new home’s renovation.”
The designer smirked at Cuixi, “Xiaowen Jie is a partner—she can count her money at home and then focus on renovations. I woke up at 4 a.m. and the first thing on my phone was a rent reminder.”
Hu Xiu grumbled inwardly, I haven’t paid my rent either.
Meetings meant dealing with these drama queens in a roundabout way, and she couldn’t even lose her temper—
The E line was the sales champion crown, but they only nitpicked copy with the agency after 7 p.m. because they had meetings all day; the O line promoted natural and affordable products, but the wording had to sound more luxurious than the price; the men’s cosmetics line L was the most laid-back—as long as you avoided sensitive terms in advertising law, there were few changes; the toughest was the beauty line B, with the most quarterly layout adjustments and the biggest revisions. It was common to work until midnight only to be asked for more tweaks. They wrote about the same products over and over, yet demanded endless variations, expecting every word to feel fresh and new.
Compared to the ever-changing account executives, none of the clients had quit. Hu Xiu didn’t particularly like this job, but she admired the dedicated young women—youthful, resilient, and refusing to back down even when bruised.Recalling the phone call that got slammed during the 2017 Double Eleven shopping festival, Hu Xiu still remembered someone shouting in the background: "How can they ask for leave at a time like this? My grandma is at the Longhua Funeral Parlor right now and I haven’t left—how can they be so irresponsible?"
Cuixi was the beauty team’s battle-hardened leader at Enlighten, known for her decisive actions and relentless drive to meet targets under client pressure. During peak seasons, she barely slept. Her only flaw? She loved delaying payments and passing the buck.
A client called, demanding that the product’s tone, effectiveness, and promotional offers all be reflected in the new copy. Even similar products under the same brand needed distinct styles.
Deep down, Hu Xiu knew that live stream hosts rarely followed scripts, but copywriters were at the bottom of the food chain. Serving Internet celebrities meant obeying demands—no questions asked.
Another client call came through, the voice muffled as if speaking through a face mask: "Let’s do a quick run-through. Starting with the foundation—this season’s focus is on a lightweight feel, and our product emphasizes skincare benefits.
But summer’s here, so the ‘lightweight’ aspect needs to stand out. The description below lacks a summer vibe. With so many competitors on the market, we must capture the summer market.
Also, add instructions in brackets reminding the host to test the foundation on camera. The product must be visible—no exceptions."
Mid-call, the signal suddenly cut out. During the silence, broken fragments of the client’s voice drifted through, hushed but audible: "Their copy reads like it was written with their feet—absolutely terrible. They don’t understand the brief no matter how many times I explain. It’s not me being picky—it’s just awful!
Might as well do it myself. The whole team depends on us for business, so why is the copy always this bad? After the meeting, I’ll tell Cuixi to replace this copywriter."
When the signal cleared, the client’s tone was polite, as if nothing had happened: "Where were we? Let’s move on to the eyeshadow and brushes."
Requests relayed to copywriters and designers were always filtered. Hearing the raw truth firsthand left the room in awkward silence, everyone secretly cringing for Hu Xiu.
Cuixi stayed silent, shooting Hu Xiu a glance that seemed to side with the client—her usual tactic. After every copy submission, she’d sigh, "Why does it always need revisions?" or "So disappointing!" Once revisions were done, she’d add, "Keep it up—I believe in you. You’re my most trusted copywriter," effectively shoving any complaints back down Hu Xiu’s throat.
The familiar feeling of being bullied by clients returned. Normally, Hu Xiu would freeze up, flushed with shame. This time, her expression remained neutral as she chanted inwardly: Qin Xiaoyi, Qin Xiaoyi. End this last meeting, and you’ll see Qin Xiaoyi.
Qin Xiaoyi’s face materialized before her eyes; dwelling on it a little longer, his voice seemed to echo in her ears—a heavenly sound.
Just the thought sent shivers down Hu Xiu’s arms. With an hour left for revisions, while others took lunch breaks, she hammered away at the keyboard in the conference room.
Advertising copy was always about repurposing—it didn’t need much soul. She’d learned that during her translation days: short texts were just patchwork. All it took was a clear mind to grasp the client’s needs and write them down.
Across the room, three designers were eating lunch, chatting about their recent romantic troubles. Their only joy lately, it seemed, was getting paid and buying bags.Every time Cuixi brushed off Hu Xiu, she’d say, “We can’t even make payroll right now, Xiu. Can you hang on a little longer?” Seriously, she lied without batting an eye.
Once the lovelorn girl stepped out to toss the trash, the other two whispered among themselves, “She actually got dumped but won’t admit it. She’s afraid we’ll find out some rich, handsome guy left her. Truth is, she’s broke—living with her mom in an old apartment in Hongkou, can’t afford to buy a place. Pretty rough.”
Hu Xiu never realized that, in the rivalry among young women, being loved could be a source of confidence.
Noticing Hu Xiu’s gaze, they pretended to zip their lips and slipped out of the conference room. “Cuixi’s desperate for staff lately, going crazy.”
“But her promotion email went out, didn’t it? She’s officially an AM now, with the budget under her control. She’s just holding back to keep it for herself.”
Hu Xiu took note of every word.
By four in the afternoon, after revising copy all day and surviving on just one coffee, Hu Xiu felt her blood pressure spike.
Cuixi bustled about, completely ignoring her, then grabbed her bag to head off for a meeting at another client’s office.
Hu Xiu intercepted her at her desk. “Cuixi, I’m not taking on this freelance job anymore. Please settle my payment as soon as possible—I need the money urgently.”
Cuixi turned serious. “Are you here to collect a debt today?”
“Yes…”
“Our finance system is closed. You’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”
“But it’s only 4:20—the cutoff is at five. There’s still time.”
After a brief silence, Cuixi feigned helplessness. “Xiu, I’m not making you wait on purpose. Q2 client payments are slow, finance isn’t in full-time, and I can’t find anyone to hire. I’m struggling too.
Giving up just because of a few client complaints isn’t worth it. How about you help me out for three more months? After this year’s Double Eleven rush, I’ll pay you everything in one go and even ask the boss for a raise.”
But Hu Xiu’s mind had been sharpened by Live Action Role Playing games. Leaning in, she stared straight into Cuixi’s eyes, her tone laced with sorrow. “I know you’re having a hard time too, but if I wait any longer, I won’t be able to pay my rent.
Look at my canvas bag—the corners are worn through. My bank balance is down to one month’s pay.
I’m probably the shabbiest one in this ad agency, right? Freelancers might not have contracts, but trust is what keeps us going, isn’t it?
If you pay me today, we can keep working together. If not, I really can’t continue.”
Cuixi, rooted to the spot, closed her laptop. “I’ll call finance. But promise me you’ll stick with me through Double Eleven.”
“Of course…”
Hu Xiu didn’t rush off. After submitting the copy, she waited by Cuixi’s desk until 24,000 yuan landed in her account. Calmly, she rode the elevator down with Cuixi.
Watching Cuixi get into a taxi, she sent a message: “Sorry, Cuixi, I’m done. I hope you find a good copywriter for Double Eleven. I’m going back to my old job as a translator. After all, freelancing for you guys really doesn’t pay.”
Sometimes you have to fight fire with fire—though Hu Xiu never expected to learn this trick from the deceit and schemes of Live Action Role Playing games.
After sending the message with a sense of relief and blocking Cuixi, Hu Xiu dashed into the subway and headed for the train station—Qin Xiaoyi, I’m coming!
The liberated serf was ready to move back downtown, find a steady job, and settle into a routine of weekly dates with you in Rong City—Damn it, arguing all day for a few lousy bucks is enough to give you a heart attack!
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