My dearest daughter, Li Hua, please come to the conference room on the 20th floor of the company building at around noonish today. We have some things that we must talk about. It is urgent. Please be the good, sweet daughter that you are and meet with me.

Love you,

Bàba

You were now at the MTV Mandarin headquarters, waiting for the elevator. As you waited, you were reading this message from your father for the twentieth time today.

“’Dearest daughter?’ Pftt. Yeah right. I bet he’s just sweet-talking me because he wants me to do something stupid for his company again,” you muttered to yourself. “And he even had the courtesy to write it on a sticky note, too.” You scoffed. “Doesn’t that man know anything about technology already? Just texting it to me instead would’ve saved a tree.” You could rant about your father all day; about how he cared more about his dumb company than you, even though you were his only daughter, and him, your only parent. You’ve never known your mother since she died while giving birth to you. The least your dad could do was care a little more and spend some time with you like back in the day. But now all he could care about was his job and money, and he had no time available for you anymore. You were just still thankful to him that he kept you as his child and didn't give you away for adoption.

You pressed the elevator button impatiently. “Kuài, kuài! Hurry up!” you yelled as if the elevator would listen to you. But it actually did. The doors slowly slid open revealing not an empty elevator, but a packed one. You could’ve sworn there were twenty or so boys in the tiny elevator. Well, maybe not twenty; you’d be over exaggerating. But the number didn’t matter. What did matter was that those boys who were cramped in that elevator were what one would call “pieces of eye-candy”.

You stood there for a second, staring at them in awe. The guy in the front, the hottest and tallest out of all of them, caught your eye.  

 “I’ll take the next one,” you finally uttered. You flashed a quick smile at the boys until the doors closed again.

“Wah, they were hot…” you muttered.

You looked at the yellow sticky note in your hand. You rolled your eyes as you read the note once more and stuffed it in your pocket. You pressed the elevator button in a continuous rhythm until the elevator reached your floor again.

Once reached the 20th floor, you stomped straight into the conference room. You entered the room and glanced at the sticky note in your hand, ready to hear your dad's little story, not even noticing that he was in the middle of a meeting.

“Bàba, what is it you want to talk about now?” you asked still peering down at the note. You then looked up and realized that he was in a meeting. “Oops,” you mumbled. Then, at that