Chapter 3: Do You Need Me to Praise You?

When she arrived, Jiang Mian had tidied her hair, and the marks on her face had faded considerably. She applied a light layer of powder, and now it was hardly noticeable.

Mr. Zhou looked at her with a smiling face but tapped the table impatiently.

“Miss Jiang, times have changed. I have better options now. Why would I still choose you?”

She naturally understood the meaning behind his words but forced a smile nonetheless.

“Mr. Zhou, you previously approved the design drawings. We were about to start production. Your sudden cancellation now would cause us significant losses.”

“That’s your problem. What does it have to do with me?”

He clearly didn’t want to hear any more. His smile remained, but his body language revealed his impatience.

The assistant almost cried, looking at Jiang Mian helplessly.

The design draft for cooperation with Mr. Zhou was finalized and delivered early this month. It was confirmed on their side before they prepared to start work.

Finally, when the schedule was set, they suddenly wanted to cancel.

The assistant was a recent graduate, inexperienced with such situations, so she called Jiang Mian.

Taking a deep breath, Jiang Mian took a sip of her coffee. Various emotions flickered across her eyes.

“Mr. Zhou, we’re all in business. You know the most important thing in business is integrity.”

The man chuckled lazily, leaning back on the sofa.

Jiang Mian looked at him calmly, her gaze narrowing slightly. In truth, she knew the matter was settled.

“Miss Jiang, there’s a saying: ‘No cunning, no business.’ I advise you not to be too naive.”

The assistant trembled slightly and tugged at Jiang Mian’s sleeve.

She glanced sideways, her gaze drifting over the street.

Countless people passed by the coffee shop’s entrance, but few would actually come in.

“Mr. Zhou, with two coffee shops side by side, you should taste both to know which is better, shouldn’t you?”

Her voice was soft and steady.

“Mrs. Zhou surely wouldn’t mind having another piece of jewelry, right?”

Looking up, Jiang Mian met his disdainful gaze.

She remained composed, but he sneered.

“Miss Jiang, I thought you were smart. I made myself clear—it’s just a matter of selling favors. Unfortunately, you’re no longer within my circle for favors, understand?”

The silence seemed to freeze time for a moment.

Jiang Mian forced a faint smile and nodded lightly.

“Since Mr. Zhou has made his decision, we’ll proceed as you wish.”

The assistant sighed, sitting down dejectedly.

When the man stood and left the coffee shop, Jiang Mian glanced at her assistant.

The young woman looked deeply hurt, her eyes reddened.

Jiang Mian frowned and smiled sadly, feeling a pang in her heart.

Though many had once supported her studio out of respect for her parents, some had become loyal clients over time.

But to lose such a big order now—how would the studio pay its staff?

Jiang Mian was troubled, propping her chin in her hand.

Her cheek throbbed slightly; she gently rubbed it with her fingertip.

“Xiao Li, if you want something to eat, order it. It’s on me.”

“Sister Mian, I don’t feel like eating at all right now.”

Losing such a big order and wasting a design draft—how could she not be upset?

But when she looked at Jiang Mian, the latter just rested her chin on her hand, eyes lowered, expressionless.

Her phone rang. She glanced at it and promptly hung up.

But the caller persisted, seemingly intending to keep calling until Jiang Mian answered.

“Sis, is it so hard to pick up my calls?”

Hearing the voice, Jiang Mian instinctively frowned.

She rubbed her brow and looked outside aimlessly.

“Sis, have you already fallen out with Mr. Zhou? Congratulations then—how could you mess up such a small matter?”

The tone was clearly triumphant, impossible to ignore.

“It’s your doing.”

She said it firmly.

The other end made a low gasp, laughter spilling from the phone.

“Sis, you just realized?”

Jiang Mian inhaled deeply and warned herself not to get angry, but her expression darkened.

“You’ve taken over the company already. What more do you want?”

Her right hand absentmindedly traced the cup before her.

“Sis, you know, I’ve been jealous since childhood. Naturally, I want everything you want! So, I begged Dad to open a studio for me too. Am I not amazing?”

Gritting her teeth, Jiang Mian shut her eyes tightly.

When Jiang Zhixuan came to their home as a child, she would always demand whatever Jiang Mian had.

Back then, they were kids, so everyone dismissed it as childishness.

But as they grew older, Jiang Mian realized Zhixuan didn’t want everything—she simply wanted to compete with her.

She remembered when they were in the same high school and there was an election for Outstanding Student of the City.

Everyone expected Jiang Mian to win, but on election day, Zhixuan had secretly added something to Jiang Mian’s soy milk. Jiang Mian ended up in the emergency room with severe stomach pain and missed the election.

Unsurprisingly, Zhixuan took the position.

Jiang Mian still remembered Zhixuan’s gloating face beside her hospital bed—so petty, so smug.

Snapping back to the present, her voice grew colder.

“Do you want me to praise you?”

Laughter echoed from the other end, as if her words had brightened the mood.

“Sis, if you don’t want to praise me, fine. But I’ll still remind you not to be too confident.”

The call ended.

Jiang Mian stared at the dark screen, her knuckles tightening.

Xiao Li cautiously tugged her sleeve, bringing her back to the moment. The harshness in her eyes softened considerably.

Turning, a smile reappeared at the corner of her mouth.

“Xiao Li, go back to the studio. Contact those clients who showed interest before and schedule when they want to meet with the designers.”

“Okay.”

Her gaze shifted outside and suddenly caught sight of a familiar figure.

A man walked steadily ahead, apparently followed by an assistant.

The coffee shop door opened, and the man strode in, his brows slightly furrowed, his tall frame inspiring thoughts.

She paused and lowered her head.

Wen Jinhui was not someone just anyone could covet, and besides, the man might not even remember someone like her.

Sighing softly, Jiang Mian looked down at her phone, replying to messages, unaware of a gaze fixed upon her.

The assistant, following Wen Jinhui’s eyes, instantly understood.

“President Wen, that’s Jiang Mian, the former eldest daughter of the Jiang family. I’ve seen her designs—they have a very distinctive personal style.”

“Hmm.”