What do you . . . ?
Bastard“You can’t take this job,” Gale says before stabbing some peppers with her chopsticks. “They hired you to be the head of a developmental team a week ago. Once they realize who you are, the Lǎo Bǎn (Boss) will tell his spoiled son to find another sweetheart with a useless business degree.”
“I double minored in Asian studies and general business administration,” Mei Lin says, scooping some rice into with the chopsticks.
“I’m not saying you’re not capable. I’m just saying it’s not what you signed up for and you shouldn’t have to bend at that brat’s every little whim because everyone else around here does.”
The two are chatting away in English in their little corner of this floor’s break room while they have lunch.
“After all the trouble they went through to get you here, they’re not going to brush you off and send you to a career death sentence,” Gale says.
“How bad can he be?” Mei Lin snickers, still with the habit of never assuming the worse in people.
“The record is forty one days,” Gale says in hopes of persuading her friend from committing career suicide. “That is, according to the folks on this floor. Most of those who quit or are fired actually work as secretaries or desk clerks on other floors, assuming their lives haven’t been made a living hell, and also assuming they care enough to stay. I say they’re just too scared of trying to find another job elsewhere. You already have a great job here, Mei; don’t do it.”
“It wouldn’t be fair to him if I don’t give it a chance. Like Wu Lǎo Bǎn says, he can do as he pleases and it wouldn’t be my place to deny him that. That’s not exactly the best impression to give the man who signs your paychecks.” Mei Lin can tell that Gale is still not swayed by her argument. “How about this? I won’t sign anything that will lock me in and just test the waters, so to speak, for a week, assuming I don’t get fired before then. I’ll keep the contract I have now and will still work with you guys if and when I have the time.”
The compromise isn’t exactly what Gale wanted to hear, but it’s better than what Mei Lin could’ve said. It’s been five years since the two really interacted, but Gale has a feeling that her little Asian friend hasn’t changed very much, if at all. The two use to be study partners, compensating for one another’s abilities, and took almost the exact same classes in their pursuit of the same career. They entered science fairs and local competitions together, as partners and as opponents, but even with all of this, the two don’t know all that much about each other, just enough to get by. Both kept to themselves, but nonverbal communication (a look, a gesture, a sigh) made them appear as if they were best friends.
Of course, Mei Lin had a lot of friends in high school, as well as college, but collectively, they are likely to know just as much as the person they’re standing next to about Mei Lin. “She’s Chinese.” “She’s an only child.” “She’s nice.” “She’s clever.” “She’s a good friend.” But ask someone what her favorite color is and no one will have the answer. They never notice this because it’s not something that they discuss.
The same thing can be said about young Wu Yi Fan. “He’s the boss’ son.” “He’s an .” “He’s a cocky prick.” “He’s a spoiled brat.” “He’s the doom of this company.” But even if you take down a list of everything that all the secretaries that he’s ever had know about him, the list is short and repeating. No one really knows and no one ever bothers to know.
This is a game for Yi Fan. At this point, he’s just trying to see how long each will last, giving as much of a damn as they’re willing to give them. He’s not doing this to see which one is going to stick after throwing all of them to the wall; no, if he were, that would imply that he would actually want to do this job. It’s far more complicated than that, but who really ever stops and wonder about such a thing when they’re too busy trying to get his coffee order right or ensure there’s no a single smudge anywhere in his office or car.
Yi Fan isn’t sure why he pointed at Mei Lin that afternoon. Maybe it’s because she looked like she knew what she was doing and might actually be able to handle the mess that is Wu Yi Fan. Or maybe it’s because he could tell that she’s new and someone whom his father would never agree to let him have as a secretary. Or maybe this is just his way of punishing her for ignoring his very presence. She has to be new if she doesn’t know who I am.
Mei Lin fixes that after lunch and after the test showed the laser needs modification. It’s not that Mei Lin hasn’t done her research on the company and its big name employees, it’s just she doesn’t know very much about the man who she’s about to work for. She doesn’t remember seeing him during the tour and there’s nothing in any of the resources that indicates that he even works here. The only picture is one of the whole staff, and with the lack of blond hair in the picture, Mei Lin is forced to dig deeper.
Maybe this is an old picture and he didn’t work here yet. Or maybe this is before he dyed his hair. With features like that, he shouldn’t be hard to find in a picture of stereotypical Asians. Just look for the piercing eyes and the look of sub-zero itself.
What little Mei Lin had been able to find on Wu Yi Fan in print or on the servers only told her what she had already known: he’s the son of this company’s president and therefore he’s the next in line to run this company. There isn’t even any evidence that he was born! seeing how nothing even indicates so much as a birthday.
“Gale,” Mei Lin finally caves. “I need a list of all of his former secretaries.”
Gale blinks at the request. “You’re joking, right? Am I your secretary now?”
“I don’t expect you to hand me a list of names on a silver platter, Gale. I need access to the employee record database. You’re more connected than I am; point me in the right direction as to who I should be talking to for access.”
Gale thinks this over with a blank expression. What’s she trying to pull? Why does she care? Does she actually want to do well? This is textbook Mei. Gale smirks and Mei Lin knows that she’s going to get what she needs. “There’s an entire resource department on the first floor. Ignore the lady at the front desk and ask for Lu Han. You can’t miss the poor deer.”
Mei Lin laughs at the pun and thanks Gale before dashing into the next elevator down. It’s a long ride and there are many stops as different employees step inside and get off with carts, papers and tubes. The mirror walls of the elevator gives the illusion of grander size but cramped is cramped. Mei Lin finally gets to the first floor and follows the signs until she’s in the resource department.
“Can I help you?” a tone-dead young lady asks Mei Lin in Mandarin.
“Wǒ zài zhǎo Lù Hán,” ("I am looking for Lu Han,") Mei Lin says.
The young lady points in an arbitrary direction, but seeing how her eyes have yet to peel away from her monitor screen, Mei decides not to press any more questions. Young men and women flutter from cubicle to office to computers. Luckily, all of them have nametags or ID’s on display hanging from lanyards. But none of whom Mei Lin passes has only two characters.
On the other end of the room is young man typing away happily on a laptop. He is redirecting workers who stop to ask him where somewhere or someone is while reminding some of the errands that they had promise to run for who knows whom; and he does all this with a beamingly boyish smile. Gale was right; you really can’t miss the poor deer. “Lu Han!” Mei Lin calls him in a singsong tone as she approaches him, giving him warning of her coming.
Lu Han has never seen this young lady before on this floor and happily stops his typing to allow himself a full intake on the person walking towards him. “Wǒ jiù shì, nǐ yǒu shén mē shìr ma?” ("That's me, what business do you have?") Lu Han asks.
“I need a complete list of Wu Yi Fan’s former secretaries. All of them,” Mei Lin says casually.
Some of the workers stop and gets a good look at Mei Lin. Lu Han lets out a bright laugh. “Why? Did he ask for it? Is he finally keeping count? I thought he had a list of his own.” The ones within hearing range laugh with him.
“Bù duì,” ("No,") Mei Lin replies, quieting the laughter around them.
“Oh?” Lu Han asks, curious enough to let his expression slip. “Wèi shén me?” ("Why?")
“It’s for me,” Mei Lin replies. “I want to know who to talk to.”
The bustling room suddenly hushes down to only the whirl of computer fans and AC vents. “Wèi shén me?” Lu Han asks again.
“Why do you think?” Mei Lin asks.
She’s being vague, but it’s enough for Lu Han to print her a list of names, contacts and even how long they were employed by Wu Yi Fan. Mei Lin snickers at the few names that didn’t even last a day. It's also enough for some people to start coming up to her, telling her of their experiences. However, none of them are helpful and only confirms all that she already knows.
Some of the ones on the list are in the building, causing Mei Lin to ride the elevator more times than she would’ve liked. Many, if not all of them, try to discourage Mei Lin into taking the position, much like Gale, rather than trying to help her, and all of them speak ill of the president’s son. She makes a few phone calls to those who are no longer with the company.
“I’m not asking for your story, I’m asking for information,” Mei Lin clarifies. “Tell me something I don’t know; tell me something about him as a person.”
Nothing is useful. Even their memorized coffee orders are all different. At the end of the day, Mei Lin is exhausted and pouring over notes that do not match with one another. All she’s learned today is that he is specific in his instructions and attentive to detail, the latter of which could’ve been said by his expensive Italian leather shoes and ten-thousand-dollar platinum watch. He has high standards and even higher expectations. And most of all, everything has to be spotless.
Mei Lin hasn’t felt this much stress and confusion since her first week of college and it doesn’t get much better when she shows up for work the next day. She arrives on time but that is her first mistake.
“If you don’t show up before I do, then there’s no point in me showing up,” is the first thing that he says. “If you’re on time, you’re late. Welcome to the business world, kid.”
“My name is not ‘kid,’” Mei Lin mumbles to herself in English. Normally Mei Lin would normally never do such an inconsiderate thing, but between her lack of sleep and the amount of heat she was getting for being on time, Mei Lin is not in the best of her moods.
“English, so you really are a Westerner,” Yi Fan says in thick disappointment.
To Mei Lin’s surprise, his English is as good as his assistants’ with no hint of any type of underlying accent. It sounds fluent enough to be native. Studied abroad, perhaps?
“Well maybe you’ll pay more attention if I speak to you in this manner,” Yi Fan says, razors in every word. “Maybe then you’ll wake up.”
Mei Lin mutters a soft “duì bù qǐ” before she is shown to her desk.
The lobby of this floor is different from other floors with the elevators opening up to a circular hall, rather than a greeting desk and many halls. In the middle of this lobby are three arc-shaped tables with glassy black tops. They are arranged to form the illusion of an almost complete circle with sections taken out, giving the secretaries room to go inside to the inner circle of three office chairs.
The table facing away from the elevators has a computer desktop, a phone, a lamp, and a nameplate with Mei Lin’s full name in standard, traditional font. It faces a glass office that appears to take up half the floor. Oddly enough, the office is elevated by a total of twelve steps so that the office literally looks down on the rest of the floor.
When coming off of the elevators, to the right is the developmental department, which includes, for all intensive purposes, Mei Lin’s other office and her lab. To the left are the offices of other executives. Above them lie the offices of the rest of the executives, not counting the department heads on their respective floors, and the big boss himself.
“Keep up!” Yi Fan’s voice booms as he enters his office. The smirk on his face means another game is about to begin, but the added perk to his latest victim is that he gets to utilize all those years of grades school and international experience. “Let’s go, kid!”
“I have a name, sir,” Mei Lin says, not enjoying the short climb in heels.
“Everyone does; yours is ‘Kid.’”
“My name is Mei—”
“Look,” Yi Fan says stopping and sitting down on the couch. He s his blazer as he sits out of habit and puts his arms on the couch while crossing his legs, as if lounging. “There are two types of people brave enough to walk through those doors and work for me. The first type does it for the money and does this because it’s necessary while the other comes in not so much for the money, but they come in thinking that they can do this. Subtypes in the latter contain those who are either here to prove everyone else and me wrong, and/or are here to prove it to themselves that they can do it. Regardless of which type they are, they both end up getting fired eventually. So tell me Mèi Mèi,” Yi Fan says, leaning his elbows on his knees and looking up at the timid young lady before him with a curled smirk. “Which type are you?”
Mei Lin thinks for a moment, taking the scene and events in. The only opaque walls are on either side, acting as dividers for the department and other offices respectively. There is a bookshelf on the right wall, which has the developmental department on the other side, namely Mei Lin’s other office, along with a framed degree in Business Administration. The books are of various widths, text, color, font, and even language. There are more shelves on the opposite wall with various things, likely of importance. With his desk and chair closest to the farthest wall, the center is decorated with a large rug, topped with a marble and glass coffee table and two identical couches made of white leather, which are placed at an angle so that they point to the doors of his office. The lack of chairs in front of his desk and the many lines of blinds are a sign that he is not exactly friendly.
There’s not much to take in, the only interesting thing being what is on his shelves and desk. But her time is surely up. So Mei Lin answers with, “Nín xū yào shén me?” ("What do you need?")
Yi Fan smirks pleasingly at the response. His game gets to continue for a bit longer. Yi Fan gets up and buttons his blazer before going behind his desk and pulling out a small box of files. “This is what you have to work with, Mèi Mèi,” he says in English, his smile sick with malicious intent.
Mei Lin looks inside and sees a planner and some files. “Zhè shì shén me?” ("What is this?")
“You don’t need to speak in Mandarin to try and please me if what you’ve been used to for God knows how long is English,” Yi Fan says, rolling his eyes. “This is what my past secretaries have used. You have ten minutes to tell me what I have scheduled for today or else I’m going home. Starting…now.”
Mei Lin opens the files and skims through them, finding them all to be irrelevant. The planner is a bit more useful, but she guesses decent penmanship isn’t exactly a requirement for being Wu Yi Fan’s secretary. After two minutes, Mei Lin forgets about the useless box and returns to her desk. Yi Fan finds this amusing and yet a bit disappointing, assuming that Mei Lin had given up and is grabbing her things to leave. To his surprise, Mei Lin is logging onto the desktop and swiping at her tablet. After a few more clicks she picks up the phone and starts to dial, checking her wrist watch every forty seconds or so. Yi Fan leans against the open door frame as he watches Mei Lin multitask.
He’s about to call time and tell her to leave when she approaches him with her tablet. She hands it to him as she begins to recite exactly what’s on the memo. “Wu Lǎo Bǎn wants to see you in his office in the next five minutes. You have a nine o’clock with a possible client at D.O.’s Restaurant for tea.” The two head towards the elevators while Mei Lin keeps talking. “There are papers that need signing and will be on your desk when you get back from your meeting, either with your father or the client, whichever happens sooner. Performance reviews need to be written for this quarter and there is a meeting at one with the Developmental Department concerning the staff. But before that, you will be having lunch with a young lady by the name of—”
They’re already in front of the heavy wooden doors of the president and Yi Fan has opened the doors. “Learn to talk faster,” Yi Fan says to Mei Lin before presenting himself to his father.
This is a no English zone.
“Oh good,” Mr. Wu says at the sight of Mei Lin. “You’re still here.” Mei Lin bows a bit but keeps her eyes on the president.
His Mandarin causes his son to reply in the same manner. “Nǐ xiǎng yào shén me?” ("What do you want?") Yi Fan asks his father.
“Méi shén me,” ("Nothing,") his father replies. “I just wanted to make sure this one doesn’t leave within the hour. You have to stop being such a child and grow up. Do you know who this is?”
“Yī gè lǎo wài?” ("A forigner?") Yi Fan asks with a chuckle.
“Duì,” ("Yes,") his father says seriously. “She recently graduated from university and has had some of the top companies in the world bidding for her and her designs. My apologies,” Mr. Wu says, now speaking directly to Mei Lin. “I’ve heard much about you but didn’t see your picture until my secretary informed me.”
“Are you saying I can’t keep her?” Yi Fan asks, as if Mei Lin had been some sort of stray cat that he had found.
“I didn’t give her one of the best contracts ever drafted from this building only to have you force her out.” The elevated tone in his voice must not be good for his heart.
“Duì bù qǐ…” Mei Lin says, sounding as if all of this is her fault; in fact, she is only trying to calm the tension in the room. “I can do both,” Mei Lin insists. “I only need to design. My team can do the rest and report back to me. Your son clearly needs a secretary, and with all due respect, I don’t see a line outside his office jockeying for the position.”
Yi Fan blinks in wonder as Mr. Wu’s brow furrows with the decision. Why on Earth would she do something so insane? Is the question on both of the Wu’s minds.
“My son must be rubbing off on you,” Mr. Wu says in a tone that tells her that it had been anything but a compliment. “Do as you please like he does, then.”
Mei Lin bows and the two leave the president’s office. “The young lady is named—”
“You must be out of your mind,” Yi Fan says, finally using English once again.
“No, I’m the latter type. You can fire me if you want, but I’m not going to give you reason to and I’m not quitting.” The words roll confidently off of Mei Lin’s lips as this language is more casual to her than the one native to this country.
“Which subtype are you then?” Yi Fan asks, humored by all of this.
“A new type,” Mei Lin says.
“Oh?” She’s surely more interesting than the others so far.
“I’m not here to prove anything,” Mei Lin says. “I’m here to do my job.”
Translations/Author's Notes:
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Wǒ zài zhǎo Lù Hán (我在找鹿晗.) = I am looking for Lu Han
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Wǒ jiù shì, nǐ yǒu shén mē shìr ma? (我就是 , 你有什麼事兒嗎?) = (Literally: It is me, what do you need?) It can also be translated as: That's me, what business do you have?
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Bù duì (不對) = No or Incorrect or wrong (Literally: Not right or Not correct) "Bù" being negative
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Wèi shén me? (為什麼?) = Why?
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Mèi Mèi (妹妹) = Younger/Little Sister This is a play on Mei Lin's name even though her name is of the 3rd vowel stress (Měi) instead of the fourth, as seen here. In other words: they sound similar in Chinese and Yi Fan uses this as a tease, much like how bullies would come up with teasing, degrading, belittling nicknames. Even though Yi Fan is older than Mei Lin and the term is often used between those who are not related when they are close/good friends, rest asure that it is simply used to by Yi Fan to talk down to Mei Lin even further.
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Nín xū yào shén me? (您需要什麼?) = What do you need? It should be noted that the polite "Nín" is used here instead of the informal "Nǐ." The only difference is the level of respect/formality; they both translate to the subject/noun of you.
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Zhè shì shén me? (這是什麼?) = What is this?
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Nǐ xiǎng yào shén me? (你想要什麼?) = What do you want? Please note that like English, there are differences between the words "want" and "need" in Chinese. They are different verbs and therefore characters. Different verbs have different connotations and implications. Lu Han's question has a business implication woven in, telling the person he's asking that he expects the request to be formal, where as Yi Fan's question is very casual, and general enough to imply that the resonse could be anything, and therefore letting the person he is asking know that he either doesn't know what is going to be expected of him or simply, he doesn't care.
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Méi shén me (沒什麼) = Nothing
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Yī gè lǎo wài? (一個老外?) = A foreigner?
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Duì (對) = Yes or correct or indeed or right
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