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Chapter 1 — Kicked out of the New House

A resounding slap hit me on the face, echoing loud and clear in my ringing ears. My mother-in-law, Ho Cong's mother, was standing at the gate with my suitcase gripped tightly in her clenched fist.
Her reddening face sneered at me in anger as she carelessly pushed my suitcase down from the steps, paying no heed to the sight of it almost hitting me.
"How dare you have the guts to come back! You have disgraced our family in the cruelest way possible!" She held an accusing finger up to my face as she shrieked, "Get out! Far away, where we can no longer see you!"
My lips trembled in time with the sinking feeling weighing down my chest. I knew that Ho Cong's mother always disliked me.
Ho Cong and I did not have a single wedding banquet ever since we were married, so she had never admitted that I was part of their family.
I gritted my teeth, thinking thoroughly on what my next words would be and opened my mouth in preparation of defending myself, "Mother..."
"There should be a limit to your shamelessness. Just who are you calling your mother?!" She snorted, "Get out of here already!"
"I want to see Ho Cong," I pleaded, unable to keep the tremors out of my voice, "I’ve registered with him, and we are legally married."
"Ho Cong doesn't want you anymore!" Her slightly stout body blocked the door determinedly, effectively covering the view inside so I could not even see whether Ho Cong was there or not.
I turned away, wrapping an arm around me to embrace my shivering self. At this point, it was proving to be of futile effort to waste my energy in engaging in an argument with her. It was unwise to quarrel with a philistine old woman.
"Is Ho Cong on a business trip?"
"Yes,” narrowing her eyes, she proceeded to scorn me, “So what, you sleep around now that he’s on a business trip? You really are nothing but a cheating vixen!" She gesticulated, her pure wrath stifling me.
"Auntie," I murmured, deliberately changing the way I addressed her. If she refused to accept me, I did not want to humiliate myself any further, "Please don’t insult me like that."
"I insulted you? Did you go to the hospital today? Did you see the results?”
I froze at her bombardment of questions. She was correct, but how did she hear of it?
"You have nothing to say, right? If Feng hadn't told me, I would’ve never known. What a brazen woman you are! My son has never slept with you, but you’re pregnant? Who is that bastard’s father?! Tell me!"
A thunder blasted in the sky in time with her roaring allegations. She jolted in fright and let out a mocking laugh, her manic and condescending gaze gauging my curled up form, "God also heard about it and released lightning to signify his incoming punishment for you! You slut!”
She shoved me again and slammed the door shut.
I huddled, quaking as the cold winds ruffled the thin material of my clothes. Tiny water droplets begun its descent; an indication that it was going to rain soon. Sighing, I stood on the steps of this small building and looked up at the dark sky.
Pink lightning flashed once more, striking an ominous, jagged line that contrasted the devouring darkness of the night.
I could not refute what Ho Cong’s mother had said.
In fact, she was right.
I was really pregnant.
The thought permeated my mind and riddled me with a thousand stabs to my chest as I dragged my luggage and aimlessly walked down the street.
Ho Cong and I got married after dating for a year. Even with the long time we have spent in each other’s company, we have yet to sleep together in the same bed.
I had always abstained from having intercourse, and so I never cared when my period was late. I did not know I was pregnant until I went to the hospital today.
I had no recollection of how it had happened.
Furthermore, I was a healthy, human being—not a hermaphrodite, so I could not have possibly conceived by myself.
No matter how hard I tried, I could not figure out the cause of my dilemma.
Another booming thunder echoed across the empty space, followed shortly by a harsh downpour.
I did not run in search for a shed to cover me from the torrent of water soaking me to my core. It was useless, given that fog had encased me in its prison in all directions, and I would only tire myself out needlessly if I were to sprint lugging this massive baggage behind me.
With no set destination in sight, I would still get drenched wherever I chose to go.
I trudged slowly in the middle of the road like an absolute madman, the unforgivable weather accentuating the turmoil of negative emotions churning inside me.
My family was not here, and neither of my parents resided in the city. I had nowhere to go unless I chose to get on the bus to the next town.
As I mused, a car stopped beside me. A man in a pristine suit and leather shoes got out of the car, holding a yellow checkered umbrella in his hand.
He came up to me to put me under its shade and asked with a smile, "Are you Ms. Xia Zhi?"
I nodded mutely in surprise. I did not recognize him.
"And, you are?" I responded in kind, bafflement marring my features.
"Please get in," he politely gestured to the car, "It's raining too much here.”
"I don't know you," I said bluntly, immensely suspicious of his actions.
"I know you don't know me, but no worries. I'm not a bad person."
"Does the bad guy ever say he’s a bad guy?"
His smile did not waver, instead, he glanced at my sopping figure, "You’ve ended up in this kind of shape now. What do you think I’d want from you?"
I met his stare with my own determined gaze. I did not care about what he wanted from me, I still would not get in the car no matter what he says.
Opting to ignore him, I dragged my suitcase as I went on. He followed me slowly with his umbrella, and much to my annoyance, so did the luxurious car.
"Ms. Xia, are you pregnant?" I abruptly halted and looked at him in shock.
How come everyone knew about my pregnancy?
He calmly stated afterwards, "Are you eager to know who the father is?"
Judging from his tone, he knew what he was insinuating clearly.
Nevertheless, I stayed alert, "I don't even know who he is myself. How do you know him?"
He regarded me inscrutably, "Just come with me. Besides, do you have any other place to go?"
I set my jaw at his confident words. I did not know who he is, but what he just said aroused my curiosity.
There was nothing that would be more refreshing now than knowing who the father of the baby in my womb was.
I wanted to resolve this unusual circumstance that I was forcibly thrown in.
I hesitated for a brief while, and when he saw my uncertainty, he took advantage of the situation and asked the driver to get off to put my suitcase in the trunk. He opened the door and politely invited me to get inside.
It was warm in the vehicle, and even though my clothes were wet and dripping all over the seat, the man did not mind at all. He handed me a cup of hot water and softly commented, "You’re pregnant, so please keep warm."
I nodded in thanks and held the cup in my hand, but did not dare to drink a sip from it.
Although he could not get anything from me at the moment, it did not hurt to be more cautious. There were too many perverts nowadays, after all.
I was already unlucky enough as it was. I did not want to attract any more bad luck.
After driving for over ten minutes, we arrived at a garden villa community downtown. I gaped, knowing that every inch of this wide expanse was worth an inch of gold. There was a time when I passed here with Ho Cong before, and he had enviously watched the majestic scenery before saying, "If I could afford to live here, it would be the best period of my life."
I was shaken out of my memories when the car stopped at the door of a three-storey villa with a large garden outside.
The stranger got out and pulled the door open for me. He pointed to the gate and said, "You will stay here until you give birth."
Befuddled, I asked, "What did you say?"
He grinned, "There’s a housekeeper and a younger maid, and they’ll be taking care of you."

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Chapter 2 — Meeting Him for the Second Time

Idiocy and foolishness were traits one would not normally associate with my high intellectual capacity. Urgency only further acted as evidence to my ability of forming quick and reasonable judgments of an uncertain circumstance, and so after a moment of thought, I came to a staggering conclusion.
With a steely gaze, I asked him, “Is this arranged by the man who impregnated me?”
The man simply smiled, his expression neither giving way to denial nor agreement. Our conversation was cut short by the sudden swinging of the door as a woman in her forties came out, a pleasant grin taking over her features while she appraised me with great deference, “You must be Miss Xia. Come on in, it’s freezingly cold out here.”
Bafflement struck me in a daze as I assessed both unknown individuals. At the persistent ushering of the newcomer, I finally succumbed and compliantly let her welcome me into the massive household. The nameless man did not follow suit and only whispered a few imperceptible words to the lady before taking his leave. As the door shut gently behind me, I took in the scene with widened eyes full of wonder; the sight was mesmerizing, what with the enormous living hall being enough to resemble the size of a basketball court. It was so huge that even the softest tones of voices would surely echo in the colossal chamber.
The offer of a comfy pair of slippers shook me out of my reverie, a confused glance urging the woman to explain her worries, “Miss Xia, please change your shoes. You’re soaking wet. You must go upstairs to take a shower before you get a cold. I’ll go to the kitchen to cook some hot soup for you in the meantime.”
Nodding in comprehension, I asked while changing into the footwear, “Who is he?” The woman furrowed her eyebrows, prodding for a clarification, “I mean, the one who just left?”
“Oh, that is Mr. Dong, the assistant.”
“Assistant? Whose assistant?”
She shook her head in apology, “All I know is that his surname’s Dong, and that he’s working as an assistant.”
I hummed in recognition, tailing after her in silence as she led me to the staircase. Suddenly she stopped, seemingly remembering something, “Oh, and my surname is Cai; you may call me Mrs. Cai. And the other girl is called Jin.”
She pointed to the beaming young woman by the top of the steps, “She does the cleaning and I do the cooking.”
I gave the girl an unsure smile as a response to her joyful expression; completely lost by the unexpected simultaneous turn of events.
It was proving to be a bit hard to take in the longer I pondered over my thoughts. It barely registered in my mind that I was pregnant, and then the unforeseen state of affairs led me to this gigantic estate. With no one to confide in inside this unfamiliar place, I was left to harbor questions with no hopes of arriving at answers.
Dejected, I went to take a shower as recommended. The streams of hot water seared the coldness away from my flesh and brought back a much needed warmth to my stiff body.
Afterwards, I went to sit in front of the dressing table. Robotic movements spurred my hand to dry my wet hair with a small towel, my eyes absent and clouded in thought at the reflection in the mirror.
I had always been a person of strict morals and values. My love for Ho Cong had not affected the philosophies I held so dearly to myself; the boundaries I had set up between us served as an immunity against the temptations of crossing certain forbidden lines. What more, we had just recently received our certification for marriage. I would be far from my usual self if I had so much as thought of sabotaging the long awaited matrimony.
However, I could not ignore what had happened that night; the fateful day when Ho Cong took me to a dinner party.
Specific details were blurred out from my memories due to heavy intoxication, but I knew that I had spent the evening in the hotel as consequence to my uncontrollable behavior.
The shock was immense and immobilizing when I woke up to see that I was alone and naked in a room without Ho Cong.
The scattered clothes on the floor, and the lingering scent of an unfathomable liquid staining the bedding had warning bells ringing inside my throbbing head.
I pleaded for Ho Cong to solve my queries once I had regained my bearings, but he only evaded and gave me an ambiguous reply in return.
I had chosen to let it go with the thought that it was him who took liberty of me while I was inebriated. It would have caused no qualms, seeing as he was my legitimate husband after all.
But now, the unclear happenings that I was currently dealing with only cemented the vague feeling I had: the assumption that it was not Ho Cong that I made love with—It was someone else.
A horrible sensation crept up in my stomach, sending goosebumps trailing down my bare, trembling arms. I huddled, embracing myself in a futile attempt to minimize the dread slowly dawning upon me.
I had not even realized that Jin had been helping me dry my hair until I heard her hurriedly asking, “Are you feeling cold, Miss Xia? I’ll turn up the temperature here if you are.”
“No, thank you,” I stopped her, forcing a timid smile on my face. A brief silence permeated the atmosphere before I casually broke it with a musing of mine, “Do you know who the owner of this house is?”
“I have no idea. When Mr. Dong hired me, he just mentioned that I was to serve someone here,”Jin refuted.
I frowned, finding the overall predicament to be weird and perplexing.
Nonetheless, I have faith in myself as a journalist, and in the many bizarre experiences I had seen and gone through.
There was only one deduction I could formulate that was befitting of a press writer. However, It was an outcome that was borderline insane:
I most likely became the aftermath of a famed celebrity who desperately wanted an heir, no matter what the stakes were. Thus, after our intercourse, he sought out a place for me to comfortably conceive his wish of birthing a son.
I scoffed at the peculiar setting I had conjured. News of that kind was rarely seen, let alone happening to an ordinary person like me.
Later in the evening, I was granted a meal of fine?cuisines. Mrs. Cai was an excellent cook. Her dishes had been the most scrumptious home-cooked food I ever had the opportunity of tasting.
It was an appreciated distraction from the turmoil growing in my chest—my consciousness still daunted by heavy doubts.
Yet, my determination to stay had not wavered in the slightest. I had settled with my decision of finding the father of my unborn child; I needed to see what kind of person he was.
The unusual day ended with no additional incidents, and as the sun rose high the next early morning, I was woken up by servants to prepare me for work. A disorienting spectacle, perhaps. Given the position I was in, I had not really envisaged that I would be permitted to assume my daily routine.
A car waited for me at the gate, the driver being the same man as yesterday.
He got out of the ride and held the passenger door open for me in courtesy, “Miss Xia, please get in.”
His deferential attitude piqued my curiosity, beguiling me to heighten my inquisitiveness about his boss’ identity.
The humility and reverence shown to a woman like me spoke volumes of the power the mysterious man on top must wield.
And somehow, the idea formed a picture of a middle-aged bald bastard in my mind.
I cringed inwardly, the image immediately making me sick. I coughed several times to hide my treacherous notions and thanked the man as I slid inside the vehicle.
As I eased on the leather backseat, the driver introduced himself and told me that his surname was Ho.
I raised an eyebrow at the information; he shared the same surname with Ho Cong, my nominal husband.
Ho Cong was a man that was weak by nature. When conflicts appeared between his mother and me, he always chose to retreat instead of trying to mediate the strife.
I bit my lip at the recollection of him and tried to reach his phone on the way to work, but none of my calls had went through.
Sighing as I gave up, I wondered if he knew anything about my present standing, despite my lack of awareness on where or what he was doing.
It was just like the old times. Every time I had a dispute with his mother, he always hid and anticipated for the quarrels to die down before he came back—kneeling and begging me for my forgiveness.
It was the precise reason why we did not celebrate our wedding. His volatility took hold of his core, his fickleness winning over any desire to hold a proper ceremony.
Time passed in a flash, and soon, I had arrived at the office. My entrance had been greeted by my colleague, Tang, who had told me that the chief editor was looking for my presence.
Cold sweat started accumulating on my back due to the nervousness I abruptly felt at the news. I had asked for leave yesterday afternoon to go to the hospital, but had ended up spending the whole day out of the office. I was sure to be?yelled?at by my boss.
Anxiety pronounced the fumbling of my fingers as I walked into the editor's office. He looked up in acknowledgement before beckoning me to sit down.
"There’s an important interview today. I had initially assigned Zhang with the task, but since he’s on a business trip at the moment, you have to substitute for him.” He said, handing out a file on his table, “Here’s the question list.”
I took it dutifully and read it out loud.
“Interview with Sang Qi, the Vice President of Dayu Group,”I muttered, contemplating.
This was not an interview; it was a profile, and I didn’t do profiles. I was working for the front-line news.
I examined the paper in befuddlement. It was way out of my expertise; profiles were factual details of important people that were fixed beforehand. Calling it as an interview would only be a formality. Questions that delved deeper into their businesses were revoked, considering that it was usually too sensitive to be tackled upon.
Rejecting the proposal, I placed the document on my lap and said,“Sir, why don’t we send Tang for the interview? I still need to visit SPDA today.”
“Your mother-in-law came to the office yesterday afternoon,” said the chief editor, catching me off guard. I gaped, my heart instantly sinking down in apprehension.
“What for? What did she want?”
“Xia Zhi,” said the chief editor, solemnly staring at me, “You’ve been working for the magazine since you’ve graduated. You’re a good journalist, and I really commend that.”My shaking hands curled into fists as I desperately looked for stabilization as he continued on, “I know, I have no right to interfere in your personal life, but when your mother-in-law made a scene yesterday, it damaged our reputation severely. So—"
I felt a lump lodge in my throat. I had an inkling on what the fuss was about, and I could tell from the pity on the chief editor’s face what words would come tumbling out of his mouth next, “—either you accept the task, or get fired.”
I gritted my teeth and stared down, knowing that there would be no bargaining out of my dilemma.
An exchange of polite salutations marked my cue to exit the room, the draft clutched in my hand almost tearing as a result of my frustration.
I went to the parking lot; preparing to fulfill my assigned duty when I noticed the luxury car that had brought me here was still there. Pouting at the oddity, I leaned over the open driver’s window and asked, “Ho, don’t you have to work?”
“This is my work, Miss Xia,” the driver grinned, “My boss told me that you’re a journalist, so it’s your job to go around for interviews. He said to me that from today onwards, I have to drive you wherever you need to go.”I nodded in comprehension as the man prepped on his seatbelt, “So, where are you going, Miss Xia?”
Mulling over it, I gave him a murmur of gratitude and proceeded to go inside. Ho looked at me in the mirror, prompting me to respond to his prior question, “Dayu Group.”
He froze, giving me a dumbfounded glance.
“Too far away?” I asked, disconcerted by his reaction.
“N-no, of course not,” said him in a hurry, fumbling over the keys as he started the car.
As we headed on our way, I found myself dozing off; a side effect that all women during the early stages of pregnancy underwent. I only woke up when Ho had roused me from sleep.
Blinking blearily, I entered the building and sought out Sang QI's secretary; the one whom I had scheduled a meeting with in advance. She asked me to wait in the reception room for a while after confirming my appointment, saying that Mr. Sang was at a meeting and would come later on.
I read the interview draft in passing, finding it quite easy to understand since the writer’s writing was limited in some aspects in plain words. It was a relief, at least, that I could remember all the questions at first sight.
Just as I perused the question list for the second time, the door was pushed open and a man strode in.
He was of tall stature, his domineering aura gushing with the demand for authority and deep respect. It was without a doubt, the venerated Mr. Sang.
Out of politeness, I stood up and hastily held out my hand as a greeting,“How do you do, Mr. Sang.”

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Chapter 3 — Losing My Job

The stale smell of tobacco wafted through the air as his intimidating figure approached me.
A passing thought whispered in my mind upon registering the odor: somehow, the scent smelled familiar.
Polite exchanges of greetings were ignored when he promptly took a seat on the opposite sofa; leaving my offer for a handshake hanging. As he eased into the seat, he glanced at my name tag and asked, “You’re… Ms. Zhang?”
A look of surprise washed over my features at the baffling question, “Oh no, I’m not,” I hurriedly answered, “My name is Xia Zhi; you may call me Xia. The journalist who was supposed to interview you was sent to a business trip, so I took his place instead.”
With that said, I stole a careful glance at his face.
My eyes wandered to his form and assessed the regal posture he sported, lingering on to the confidence oozing from him in tidal waves. Indeed, this kind of sophistication would be expected from the famous businessman, Sang Qi.
The Sang family was a clan infested with people of elite standing. Many members had served as senior officials in the government; the elder generation was specifically recognized as important people of great influence. Sang Qi and his brother had followed the steps of their bloodline and had later founded the Dayu Group. It was already anticipated that the company would soon grow into a large domestic enterprise, but no one had foreseen its fast progress to the top in just a few years span of time.
In addition to that, Sang Qi was still a very young man that was said to be in his late twenties.
An individual of his background would certainly have countless of stories that were worthy of making the headlines.
However, Zhang’s question list was empty, superficial and full of blatant flattery. A waste and a disappointment, really, when more intriguing inquiries could have been made for the esteemed man.
On the other hand, Mr. Sang was also arguably handsome in appearance. He was as cute as a movie star, if not more dazzling than most. Perhaps, it was a shocking fact to concur, knowing that it was almost unfair how he had such admirable features and wealth to back him up too. Although, something was telling me that this was not the first time I had seen this man up close.
The trance I was unconsciously in brought a slight huff of annoyance to be heard from the interviewee. He sighed, drumming his fingers on the table to wake me up, “Ms. Xia? My eyes are up here.”
I blinked, almost flushing in deep embarrassment upon having caught staring. I cleared my throat to regain my bearings and met his stare as I asked, “Not to be rude, but have we met before? You look very familiar to me.”
Mr. Sang grew rigid and answered with a sneer, “I've been on a lot of interviews lately. Maybe that’s where your déjà vu came?”
His cold gaze seemed to signify that he had taken my query as an attempt to flirt. I could not blame him, really. He had probably faced lots of intricate ploys in the past by gold diggers who often hit on wealthy men. Nevertheless, it did not stop the bitterness of being accused to cause irritation to bubble inside my stomach. I was not the least bit interested in materialism, and did not have any plans of surrendering to the petty ideal in the near future.
Sighing internally and shrugging it off to maintain a calm composure, I proceeded to go over the questions again. It would be likely that I watched other interviews about him before, as he had implied. It was a fitting explanation to the familiarity I felt, so I no longer chose to pay any attention to the nagging feeling in my chest.
So, without further ado, I turned on my recording pen and began the interview.
It went well—in accordance to the strict flow of the draft, at least. The process was smooth, although a little insipid.
The dull atmosphere almost came to an end as I started nearing the last segment when the phone in my bag rang.
I froze, my thoughts going a mile a minute as the worry I had pushed into the back of my mind came spiraling out of control. My reason snapped, and much to Sang Qi’s shock, I dropped the document in favor of looking inside my handbag in a desperate plea to answer the much awaited call. Tears brimmed at the corners of my eyes upon the immense relief I felt at reading the name displayed on the screen. It was Ho Cong.
I had been looking for him for twenty-four hours, and now, he finally got in touch.
Much like a hypnotized victim, I left the holding room in a daze with no explanation given to my respondent. The glare drilling at my back for my rudeness did not even warrant a glance behind me; rushed steps only forced me to head straight out of the office to answer the phone.
As the line went through, an onslaught of questions poured out from my anxious mouth, “Where have you been? Why didn’t you answer my calls?”
“Zhi,” his soft, calming voice said, “you’ve called?”
“I asked first. Where have you been?”
"I was on a business trip and left yesterday in a hurry, so I didn't have time to tell you about my itinerary."
I gripped my phone tightly and closed my eyes in hopes of having some semblance left of my sanity, and after a long exhale, I decided to let it go, “Very well, then.” I had more important questions to ask him, and I could no longer tolerate mute responses for it, “Another question. What exactly happened to me the night I accompanied you to the business dinner a month and a half ago?”
“H-how could I know? A month and a half is a long time.” He stammered, trying to steer off from the topic, “Zhi, I need to go. I’ve got works to do.”
“Wait!” I clenched my teeth and shouted, fury finally drowning me in its cruel embrace as I called him by his full name, “Ho Cong! Why did I wake up in the hotel?! Why weren't you there with me? And why didn't you take me home when I was drunk?”
“As a matter of fact, Zhi, I explained it to you last time,” he retaliated, “Just when I placed you in bed, I received a call from my boss. I was asked to do overtime at the company so I had to go. I finished around midnight to early morning, and I would’ve gone back to the hotel but I didn’t want to wake you up.”
Trembling fingers started to lose its strength, my faltering grip on the gadget shaking in time with my quivering words, “So you didn’t have sex with me that night?”
“Of course not, I swear,” he said.
I laughed out loud manically. If that were the case, then why was I pregnant? Had some ancient Greek deity entered my dream and impregnated me? Was I some sick, twisted version of modern-day catholic Mary?
“I see,” I answered with a nod, still chuckling in a near deranged manner. “So, since you didn’t have sex with me that night, whose child is this? Who impregnated me?”
The steadiness had returned and was apparent in the intonations of my voice.
I was probably the only pregnant woman in the world who even asked her husband whose child she was bearing!
“Zhi,” coldness flowed through my veins at the realization that he did not sound the least bit mortified at the situation. He had been preparing for the question.
“Wait till I return, then I’ll tell you everything.”
A sob made past my lips in an instant, releasing the dam of built-up hysterics inside as I wailed from where I was at the back of the stairs, “Fuck you, Ho Cong! Get your ass here and tell me everything already!”
And, here we were once again, with my outburst proving to be of futile effort in arriving at a resolution as the busy signal from Ho Cong’s line ended the call. Like always, Ho Cong hung up faster than anything else he could ever manage.
He did everything so slowly, but every time something bad happened, he would be the first one to run away without fail.
I took a deep, stabilizing breath, and felt a dull pain in my chest.
I clutched my shirt to quiet the erratic beating of my heart. As I moved up the steps sluggishly, my throbbing head caught a glimpse of a tall figure walking into the elevator. I stopped, dread spreading all over my limbs at the view of Mr. Sang leaving.
“Mr. Sang! Mr. Sang! Wait!” I rushed to follow him; running to the elevator door, just as the metal gates slowly closed in front of me.
I pounded on the steel in despair, but Sang Qi’s handsome, indifferent face only levelled me with a blank stare.
Taking a quick look at the level indicator, I prepared to pursue him up to the floor where he arrived.
A burly hand stopped me on my tracks, belonging to a man who appears to be a secretary, "Ms. Xia, you’re not allowed to go up."
“Please let me through! I took a call just now because it was urgent! It’s all misunderstanding!” I begged, latching on to his arm in pressing need.
"Doesn’t matter. Mr. Sang has asked me to tell you that you were the least professional reporter he had ever met."
Crestfallen, my hands fell limply to my sides, ‘But he hasn’t seen me at my best yet,’ a foolish wish murmured deep down.
Years ago, I was sent to an investigation on?illegal?cooking oil. I went undercover as a food store owner, and braved the awful smell by following other peddlers to the refining factory for two whole weeks. It was a dangerous mission that required me to perform flawlessly, and yet an interview was enough judgment to brand me as incompetent?
“I’m really sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to be offensive, but that phone call was an emergency and I had to answer it. I’m sorry for every inconvenience I’ve caused. If Mr. Sang is not available now, we can reschedule it instead.”
"Mr. Sang doesn’t have much time to waste." The secretary rejected, while handing me the copy of the question list I had left in the reception room. “Let me get this straight, too. Mr. Sang doesn’t want to be interviewed by a journalist who was using other people’s drafts.”
The tone of finality marked his exit. He entered the elevator without so much as a glimpse back, and all I could manage was a resigned sigh at the disheartening sight.
An interview was the simplest task to be done in the journalism world, and I had devastatingly failed it.
When I returned to the magazine office, another disturbing news welcomed my fatigued self. Tang inclined his head towards me from where he sat and pityingly remarked, "Be careful, the chief editor was looking for you. I heard that you didn't complete the interview and as a consequence, the Dayu Group sent a complaint to the headquarters. The chief editor’s really about to blow up now.”
With no possible escape to be made,?I?grit my teeth in defiance and prepared myself for the worst as I?walked into the chief editor’s office. Tang was right. The chief editor was furious; threateningly apparent, on his?toupee?that had dropped off to reveal his?bald head.
And every journalist who had seen him in his hairless state had been fired.
I did not dare to sit down. My weak legs strained to keep my poise as my timid voice apprehended him, “Sir, you were looking for me?”
He fumed, not having the gall to even answer me with his cheeks reddening in unrestrained ferocity. Careful not to make another sound to set him off, I opted to stare at his forehead in silence.
After a few, tense minutes, he finally broke the ice, “Xia, you may now go to the personnel department. You have formalities to go through!”
I winced, the impending doom sinking in my frightened core before I chose to feign ignorance, “What formalities?”
“Exit procedures! What else?!” The chief editor roared, causing me to pale significantly.
“Sir, I—I’m sorry! But it was just a phone call! It shouldn’t have been so serious!” I exclaimed, trying to defend myself.?I admit that it was wrong for me to answer my phone in the middle of an interview, but was not being fired for that a little too much?
“You idiot! Not serious?! Are you new here? Is this your first day as a journalist? Do you know how influential Mr. Sang Qi is?” A vehement hand slammed down on the desk, jarring me, “Don’t you have any idea how hard it was to make his appointment? The HQ went through a lot to get this chance! But what you have done? The powerful Mr. Sang even made a complaint to the headquarters!” He ridiculed, pointing an accusing finger to my shrinking form to get his point across, “Ms. Xia, I’m merely the chief editor of a local branch. Don’t you think I have no other choice but to fire you?!”
His screams rang in my ears as he pounded on the wooden table.?If only I had more concern to spare other than for myself, the sheer force behind his blows would have made me worry that he would end up breaking it apart.
Looking down, I instinctively wrapped my arms over my abdomen in protection.
It was in a woman’s nature to protect her child, after all. Even though I feared the baby’s birth, I was still its mother.
I?stepped back from the chaotic scene and bit my lips in distress, “Sir, anger is bad for your health. You must know that it’s not your fault; people tend to be irritable when autumn comes. Let me make a cup of herbal?tea for you.”
I tried to stir the subject away and headed for the small counter of refreshments when the chief editor stopped me. He sighed, and with a hoarse throat, he said, “I’m sorry, Xia Zhi. You have to go. I know you’ve been working for us since graduation. Three years isn’t a short time, and I would’ve kept you, but I can’t. I simply can’t.”
His bald head mimicked a bald egg dyed in light pink. Veins perturbed on it, pulsing with his heavy pants to declare his obvious exasperation and slight regret.
I could feel his helplessness.

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