Lin Xiaoxi officially received the personnel transfer notice on Friday afternoon—less than 48 hours after she'd caught a glimpse of that folder in the training room.
The efficiency was astonishing, and utterly ruthless.
The notice popped up directly in the internal system, concise and to the point, with no explanation or transition: "In accordance with the company's business development and staffing needs, your position will be adjusted from Marketing Department (New Employee Role) to Innovation Business Department (Project Specialist) starting next Monday. Please report to the Innovation Business Department (Room 703, West Area, 7th Floor, Building B) before 9 AM on Monday. For work handover matters, please contact your former department mentor."
No "consultation," no "request for opinions," not even a perfunctory "Thank you for your efforts in your previous role." Just a cold directive.
Almost as soon as the notice appeared, the internal phone on Lin Xiaoxi's desk rang. It was Teacher Wang—or rather, Director Wang now—the director of the Marketing Department team she was originally supposed to join.
"Lin Xiaoxi, have you seen the notice?" Director Wang's voice came through the receiver, businesslike and unreadable, with no warmth whatsoever.
"Yes, I have," Lin Xiaoxi replied.
"Hmm. Today, wrap up any... well, you don't really have any ongoing work." Director Wang paused, seemingly about to say "handover" but remembering Lin Xiaoxi had only been there a few days and hadn't touched core business. "Then pack up your personal belongings. If you have time this afternoon, you can head to the new department to familiarize yourself with the environment. Wish you... all the best in your new role."
"Thank you, Director Wang," Lin Xiaoxi responded equally calmly.
The call ended. From nearby workstations, several pairs of eyes flickered toward her before quickly darting away. The sound of keyboard tapping in the office seemed to grow denser, but that deliberate "busyness" only accentuated an eerie silence. Being transferred to the "Innovation Business Department"—in a department that prided itself as a fast track to promotion—was practically a death sentence for one's career: either "early retirement" or "this person has been written off." Sympathy, curiosity, schadenfreude, avoidance... all kinds of emotions lurked behind seemingly focused faces.
Lin Xiaoxi had few personal belongings to pack: a water cup, a few pens, a notebook, and the potted ivy she'd quietly brought on her first day, placed in the corner where almost no one noticed. She slowly tucked everything into her canvas bag printed with cartoon cats, moving unhurriedly as if she were just leaving work, not being "exiled."
"Xiaoxi..." Li Wei's whispered voice came from the next workstation, filled with obvious worry and indignation. "This is too much... just because of that email?"
Lin Xiaoxi smiled at her and shook her head, signaling her to stop. Walls had ears, especially at a time like this.
Li Wei bit her lip, then couldn't help but quickly slip her a small bag of snacks and a folded sticky note, mouthing: "Keep in touch!"
Lin Xiaoxi nodded, tucking the items away. She picked up the ivy, glanced around the place she'd only worked in for less than a week but already felt invisible pressure, then turned toward the elevator bank.
The elevator descended from the sleek, modern Main Building A to Building B—a relatively older structure said to house mostly logistics and support departments. The geographic move silently confirmed the "marginalization" of her position.
7th Floor, West Area, Building B. The corridor lights seemed dimmer than in the main building, the carpet worn, and the air filled with a faint smell of old paper mixed with dust. The door to Room 703 was closed, with a faded printed A4 paper taped to it, reading "Innovation Business Department" in uneven ink.
Lin Xiaoxi raised her hand and knocked.
A somewhat muffled, impatient voice came from inside: "Come in."
Pushing the door open, the first thing that hit her nose was a stronger smell of aged paper, mixed with a hint of cigarette smoke (despite the no-smoking sign on the wall) and... what seemed to be the residue of instant noodles. The room was small with poor lighting. The window-side area was piled high with half-human-tall cardboard boxes and clutter, making the already cramped space even more crowded. Two slightly outdated desks were pushed together, covered with scattered documents, a few dusty trophies (from who knows when), and a huge glass mug filled with strong tea, stained with thick tea deposits. Against the inner wall, there was also a small folding camp bed, with a thin blanket haphazardly piled on top.
A man in a slightly baggy polo shirt, with thinning hair and around forty years old, was half-slumped in an office chair, staring at the computer screen and clicking the mouse rapidly—as if playing... Spider Solitaire? Hearing the door open, he slowly swiveled his chair around, revealing a round face puffy from lack of exercise. His eyes were small with dark circles underneath, and his gaze held a deep, exhausted listlessness toward everything... mixed with a hint of shrewdness.
"Who are you looking for?" He glanced Lin Xiaoxi up and down, his eyes lingering for a moment on the ivy in her hand and her canvas bag. His tone was neither warm nor cold, just a lazy, perfunctory formality.
"Hello, I'm Lin Xiaoxi. I'm here to report to the Innovation Business Department today," Lin Xiaoxi stepped in and nodded slightly.
"Oh—" The man dragged out the syllable, as if just remembering. He slid his chair over, rummaged through the messy desk for a crumpled piece of paper, and squinted at it. "Lin Xiaoxi... right, there was a notice about this. Alright, since you're here, you're here." He tossed the paper aside casually, pointing to a lonely small desk in the corner of the room—one that looked like it had been discarded from a conference room. "There. Clean it up yourself. As for the computer... wait, I'll ask Admin if they have any spares."
He had no intention of getting up to help or introduce anything. After speaking, he swiveled back around to continue his Spider Solitaire, muttering softly: "Just adding another mouth to feed..."
Lin Xiaoxi paused, thanked him, and walked toward the small desk. It was covered in dust, and the chair was unsteady. She set down her things, went to the bathroom to find a rag, and silently started wiping. Dust swirled in the beams of light filtering through the window cracks.
As she cleaned, she observed her future "work environment" and her only colleague (who seemed to be her supervisor for now). After playing a few rounds of Solitaire, the man seemed bored and opened a stock trading app, staring at the red and green lines on the screen with a face that alternated between tension and relaxation, occasionally letting out an inaudible sigh. His entire demeanor perfectly matched the stereotype of a "caretaker of a workplace graveyard"—coasting, slacking off, waiting for retirement, lacking interest in anything new, and even harboring subtle resistance to it.
Once she'd cleaned up, Lin Xiaoxi approached him politely and asked: "May I ask how I should address you? Also, what are the main responsibilities and current projects of our department? I need to familiarize myself with them as soon as possible."
The man tore his eyes away from the screen and looked at her again. This time, there was something extra in his gaze—as if he thought she was a bit "unreasonable" or "naive." "Surname Zhao, Zhao Zhiqiang. It's just me here, now plus you—two people." He pointed to himself, then to her. "Responsibilities? Projects?" He let out a sarcastic chuckle. "Girl, see that sign at the door? 'Innovation Business Department'—sounds fancy, right? In reality, it's just a oversized storage room cum garbage project recycling station. All those whimsical 'innovation' ideas from the group that no one wants to take on, or that got abandoned halfway, end up here—euphemistically called 'continued incubation' or 'in-depth research.' Actually, they're just left to sit until the leaders forget about them, or until they fizzle out on their own."
He picked up the huge glass mug and took a sip of strong tea, continuing: "As for current projects... let me think." He scratched his thinning hair. "We were told to research a 'blockchain-based canteen points system' last year—nothing came of it. Earlier this year, we had to evaluate a 'metaverse-themed virtual exhibition'—wrote a report, submitted it, and it disappeared without a trace. Oh, right, there's a new one that just came down—" He turned and rummaged through the messy pile of documents, pulled out a thin folder, and tossed it to Lin Xiaoxi. "This one's fresh off the press. 'Feasibility Study on Digital Plant Care and Emotional Companion Systems in a Metaverse Environment'—for short... well, let's just call it 'Metaverse Plant Raising.' The higher-ups want us to 'look into it and come up with initial ideas.' Alright, this task's yours."
Lin Xiaoxi caught the folder. The cover was blank except for the title. She flipped it open—inside were only two pages: one was an extremely vague "Project Background and Vision" filled with trendy jargon but lacking substance, and the other was a blank "Preliminary Idea Suggestions" form.
"This... is all the information?" Lin Xiaoxi asked.
"What else?" Fatty Zhao (Lin Xiaoxi had silently given him this nickname) shrugged. "Did you think they'd assign you a team and approve a budget? Dream on. All 'projects' here come like this. Just find some stuff online, patch it together, write a few thousand-word report with a nice format, submit it on time, and you're done. Don't take it too seriously—no one's going to read it anyway."
He spoke so bluntly, so matter-of-factly, as if passing on some precious survival philosophy.
Lin Xiaoxi held the two pages, standing in the middle of the cluttered room, looking at her supervisor who seemed to have merged with the old times, then thinking about the elites in Main Building A hurrying around and discussing multi-million-yuan projects. A strong sense of absurdity washed over her.
This was her new battlefield: a forgotten wasteland, a department labeled a "garbage recycling station," a supervisor who seemed to have completely checked out, and a ridiculous task called "Metaverse Plant Raising."
"I see," she nodded, her expression unchanged, and sat down at her small desk. Instead of immediately opening the computer to patch together a report, she took out a wet wipe and carefully cleaned the dust off the ivy leaves, placing it neatly in the corner of the desk. The small patch of green stood out sharply in the dull environment.
Then she opened the simple folder, stared at the two pages, and fell into deep thought.
Fatty Zhao glanced at her. Seeing that she didn't complain or look depressed as he'd expected, but instead calmly started "researching" the absurd task, a faint, almost imperceptible look of surprise crossed his eyes. But he said nothing and turned back to his stock quotes.
The afternoon passed slowly and quietly. Except for the occasional sounds of Fatty Zhao getting up to pour water or use the bathroom, and the faint city noise drifting in from outside the window, Room 703 was almost cut off from the world. Lin Xiaoxi searched online for information related to "metaverse," "digital plants," and "emotional companionship"—the information was vast but empty. She jotted down keywords and fragmented ideas in her notebook from time to time, her brows furrowed.
Around three o'clock, there was a knock on the door. Before anyone inside could respond, the door pushed open, and a young woman in an Admin uniform with overly enthusiastic smile poked her head in: "Is Manager Zhao here? Oh, Manager Zhao, busy?" It was "Loudspeaker" Liu Qian.
Fatty Zhao was clearly familiar with her, his attitude more casual: "Xiao Liu, what's up? Here to deliver more 'warmth' again?" He emphasized the word "warmth" with a hint of sarcasm.
"Come on, I'm just doing my routine work," Liu Qian smiled and walked in, holding a few forms in her hand. Her eyes quickly swept over Lin Xiaoxi, bright with undisguised curiosity. "This must be the new Xiao Lin, right? Hello, hello! I'm Liu Qian from the General Manager's Office, responsible for some administrative liaison work."
Lin Xiaoxi stood up and nodded politely: "Hello, Sister Liu."
"How polite," Liu Qian smiled even wider, taking a couple of steps closer and lowering her voice—though loud enough for Fatty Zhao to hear. "Oh, Xiao Xi, I've heard all about you. That email of yours—so bold! I never thought Director Wang would act so fast to transfer you... uh, I mean, arrange for you to come here." She winked. "Manager Zhao is a veteran in our company, a really nice guy. Working with him, you'll be relaxed and free!"
Fatty Zhao snorted and said nothing.
Lin Xiaoxi just smiled, neither agreeing nor contradicting.
Liu Qian didn't feel awkward. She handed the forms to Fatty Zhao: "Manager Zhao, this is the office supplies application form for next quarter—please sign it. Oh, and Admin said they might need to unify the wiring maintenance in Building B at the end of the year, so each department needs to report valuable items and special needs in advance." As she spoke, her eyes glanced at Lin Xiaoxi again, filled with the excitement of sharing a secret. "By the way, Xiao Xi, things are really interesting over in your old Marketing Department. As soon as you left, Director Wang held a team meeting telling everyone to learn from your 'mistake,' focus on the 'right path,' and stop messing around with useless things. He also specifically praised that Wu Kai, saying he has a good attitude and is a promising talent—planning to let him get in touch with core projects early!"
She chattered on like spilling beans—passing on information, but also delivering an invisible reminder and... perhaps a bit of schadenfreude. Look, as soon as you're transferred, someone else takes your place and gets promoted. Your "maverick" behavior was completely worthless, even becoming a negative example.
Fatty Zhao quickly signed the forms, handed them back, and waved his hand impatiently: "Alright, alright, got it. Leave the stuff here, I'll fill it out later. Go get back to work if you have nothing else to do."
"Got it! Manager Zhao, you busy. Xiao Xi, let me know if you need anything!" Liu Qian didn't mind, grabbed the forms, and left like a gust of wind, leaving behind a strong scent of perfume.
The door closed, and the room fell quiet again. But the "external news" Liu Qian brought was like small stones thrown into a seemingly stagnant pond.
Fatty Zhao didn't look at Lin Xiaoxi, just stared at the screen. After a long while, he slowly spoke, as if talking to himself, but also to her: "Heard that? They've already made you an example over there. Wu Kai... hum, Xiao Wang sure knows how to pick 'em—obedient enough, 'enthusiastic' enough." He paused, his voice lowering a bit. "In this place, news travels fast. Good news never gets out, but bad news—especially your kind of 'bad news'—spreads like wildfire. From now on, you'll have all kinds of people coming to 'visit' you or 'enlighten' you. Get used to it."
Lin Xiaoxi fell silent. She could feel the complexity in Fatty Zhao's words—apathy toward the status quo, disdain for people like Director Wang, and perhaps a hint of... not exactly sympathy for her situation, but at least "understanding."
"Manager Zhao," she suddenly spoke up, her voice clear. "Regarding this 'Metaverse Plant Raising' project, I've read the materials and done some research. I think if we just patch together a report with empty online concepts, no one will really read it. But if we change our approach, maybe we can find some practical feasibility."
Fatty Zhao finally turned around and looked directly at her, his eyes filled with obvious surprise and... a touch of amusement. "Oh? Change the approach? Let's hear it." His tone was still lazy, but he sat up a little.
Lin Xiaoxi picked up her notebook and walked over to his desk, but didn't get too close. "Nowadays, 'cloud raising' all kinds of things—cats, dogs, even flowers and plants—is popular online and among young people. Behind this is a demand for emotional companionship. Although the 'metaverse' concept is vague, combined with AR (Augmented Reality) technology, there are already some simple applications. Additionally, many large enterprises, including our group, are promoting ESG (Environmental, Social, Governance)—especially environmental protection and low carbon."
She spoke at a steady pace, her logic clear: "So I was thinking, can we turn this 'digital plant care' into something specific and lightweight? Like a simple mobile mini-program or H5 page. Users can adopt a virtual 'sapling' or 'potted plant' on it. By checking in on simple low-carbon behaviors (such as walking instead of taking taxis for short trips, using e-invoices instead of paper ones, reducing travel through online meetings, etc.), they can accumulate 'green energy' to water and grow it. The growth status of the potted plant can be visualized, and we can even integrate a little simple AR effect to make users feel like this virtual plant is right beside them. This not only fits the concepts of 'digital plants' and 'emotional companionship' but also actually connects to low-carbon public welfare, and can ride on the group's ESG publicity needs."
She paused and looked at Fatty Zhao: "Compared to a hollow report filled with trendy jargon, wouldn't this kind of 'initial idea' be... a bit more practical? At the very least, if the group really has relevant public welfare or brand publicity needs, this direction might provide a little reference."
As Fatty Zhao listened, the laziness on his face gradually faded. He picked up the tea-stained mug and took another sip, squinting at Lin Xiaoxi as if seeing this "exiled" young person for the first time. She wasn't here to complain, wasn't here to slack off, and wasn't even here to mechanically complete the task perfunctorily. She was thinking seriously, and her line of thinking... actually had a bit of unexpected inspiration?
"The idea... is better than nonsense," he slowly said, not directly affirming, but his tone had changed. "But little girl, do you know how much trouble this would be? Even a simple H5—who's going to make it? Where's the budget going to come from? Even if it's made, who's going to promote it? Why would the Public Welfare Department use your idea? Group ESG publicity is a big deal for the Brand Department—how could a corner like ours get involved?"
He raised a series of practical, sharp questions—all dead ends that were likely to be encountered in the Innovation Business Department.
"I know it's difficult," Lin Xiaoxi acknowledged. "But if we just submit a report no one will read like before, what's the point of this department existing? We get paid, so we should do something... at least something we think might be useful. Even if it doesn't work out in the end, isn't the process of trying more valuable than just going through the motions?"
Her words were calm, not impassioned, but carried a stubborn earnestness.
Fatty Zhao looked into her clear, determined eyes and fell silent for a long time. Dust floated quietly in the light. Faint noise from a distant construction site drifted in from outside the window.
Finally, he let out a long, ambiguous "hmm," slumping back into his chair and regaining some of his previous laziness—but the amusement and scrutiny in the depths of his eyes didn't disappear.
"Alright, if you're willing to mess around with it, go ahead," he waved his hand, turning back to his stock quotes. "But don't expect me to help you with anything. I'm old, too tired to stir up trouble. No money, no people. You mess around on your own—if you come up with something, that's your skill. If you don't, or if you get into trouble..." He paused, glancing at her. "That's all on you. This old bone of mine just wants to muddle along until retirement."
Was this... approval? Or drawing a line?
Lin Xiaoxi nodded: "I understand. Thank you, Manager Zhao." She picked up her notebook and returned to her small desk. She didn't feel discouraged by Fatty Zhao's "lack of support"; instead, she felt a strange sense of relief. At the very least, he hadn't directly denied her, hadn't sneered. In this "graveyard," that was probably as much space as she could get.
She reopened the document and began organizing her ideas more systematically—not just patching things together, but trying to build a simple but logically consistent framework. The ivy beside her had its leaves spread out.
Fatty Zhao stared at the fluctuating K-line chart on the screen, but couldn't focus. His fingers unconsciously rubbed the edge of the teacup, and his eyes occasionally glanced at the young figure sitting in the corner, tapping away at the keyboard intently.
Just then, the internal phone on his desk suddenly rang. The ringtone was unusually sharp in the quiet room.
Fatty Zhao frowned, reluctantly picking it up: "Hello? Innovation Business Department."
A steady, clear male voice with an undeniable calm came from the other end: "Manager Zhao, this is Zhou Mo."
At the sound of that name, Fatty Zhao's back stiffened almost imperceptibly. The usual laziness and shrewdness on his face quickly faded, replaced by a complex expression mixing respect, vigilance, and deeper exhaustion.
"Special Assistant Zhou, hello, hello. What instructions do you have?" His tone became cautious and formal.
Lin Xiaoxi's fingers paused mid-tap on the keyboard. Zhou Mo? The President's Assistant? Why was he calling this "graveyard"?
She couldn't hear the conversation on the other end, only saw Fatty Zhao listening, occasionally responding with "Yes" or "Understood," his face growing more solemn, his brows furrowing. His gaze drifted to Lin Xiaoxi again—this time, the emotions in his eyes were even more complicated and incomprehensible.
The call was short. Fatty Zhao finally said: "Alright, Special Assistant Zhou, I understand. I will... handle it. Goodbye."
He hung up the receiver, sitting in his chair without moving for a long while, just staring at the phone as if it were a hot potato. Then he let out a long, heavy sigh and rubbed his face vigorously.
The room was so quiet you could hear the hum of the air conditioner outside in the distance.
Fatty Zhao finally turned to Lin Xiaoxi. His expression had returned to normal, but there was still a trace of unresolved shock and... helplessness in his eyes.
"Lin Xiaoxi," he said, his voice a little hoarse.
"Manager Zhao?" Lin Xiaoxi looked up.
Fatty Zhao opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again. He waved his hand: "Nothing. Carry on with what you're doing." He paused, adding in a low voice, almost to himself, but loud enough for Lin Xiaoxi to hear:
"It seems... someone... doesn't want you to be too 'relaxed'."
It was time to get off work. Building B was far quieter than Building A—hardly anyone was in the corridors. Lin Xiaoxi turned off her computer and saved the preliminary document outlining her ideas. The ivy looked lush and green in the evening light.
"Manager Zhao, I'm leaving now," she said politely.
Fatty Zhao grunted in response, still slumped in his chair, staring at the blackened computer screen, lost in thought.
Lin Xiaoxi slung her canvas bag over her shoulder, held the ivy, and walked out of Room 703, closing the door gently. The corridor was empty, her footsteps echoing clearly. The elevator descended slowly, taking her away from this corner on the edge of the company.
Walking out of Hongyao Building, the evening breeze was still warm. She looked back—Building A was brightly lit, like an endless beast. Building B, however, had only a few scattered windows lit, appearing dim and desolate.
Today, she hadn't been shocked by intense conflict, nor crushed by obvious malice. What she faced was a denser, more complete kind of "desolation" and "abandonment": a supervisor who'd checked out, a ridiculous task, a place everyone saw as the end of the line.
Yet, beneath that desolation, it wasn't entirely lifeless. Fatty Zhao's final meaningful words and Zhou Mo's unexpected call were like small stones thrown into stagnant water. The ripples were faint, but they signaled that this pond might not be as calm as it seemed.
Someone didn't want her to be relaxed?
Who? Why?
Did they think the "restlessness" she'd shown in that email needed to be "cooled down" in a more marginal place, or... was there another purpose?
Her phone vibrated—it was a message from Li Wei: "How was the first day in the 'graveyard'? Did Fatty Zhao give you a hard time? [Worried]"
Lin Xiaoxi replied: "It's okay. Manager Zhao is... quite interesting. The task is very 'innovative'."
She put away her phone and walked toward the subway station. The ivy leaves in her arms swayed gently in the evening breeze.
The road ahead was long, and the first day in the "graveyard" seemed to be just the start of a more complex chess game.
What message did Zhou Mo's call really convey? What was hidden behind Fatty Zhao's words, "Someone doesn't want you to be too relaxed"? Was this seemingly forgotten "workplace graveyard" really just a simple place of exile?
The night grew darker, swallowing her figure. The lights of Hongyao Building continued to flicker behind her, bright and dim by turns.