Chapter 97 — Each Fights Their Own Battle

Singles’ Day arrived as expected.

After finishing their work at the Textile City the evening before, Su Yishu and Guo Yamei went directly to Kaisheng Company. From midnight on the eleventh to eleven fifty-nine at night—a full twenty-four hours—the entire customer service department, a group of young staff, relied on coffee and essential oils to stay alert and fight off exhaustion, pouring their hearts and souls into the work, for themselves and even more for the company.

The chat software for taking orders was not allowed to be paused; no matter how many customers flooded in with inquiries, every single one had to be answered. The online waiting time was never to exceed three minutes. If replies couldn’t be managed in time, at the very least a “Hello!” had to be sent.

After all, customers detested the long string of automated system replies. They didn’t care about the pressure the staff faced under the avalanche of queries; all they wanted was a satisfying answer as soon as possible.

Yishu had tied her hair up in a ponytail to keep the strands at her temples from blocking her view or swaying about as she typed.

She watched as the red notification dots on the chat software kept flashing, the number of messages from the other side climbing from “1” to “20,” and still rising. The progress bar, at first just twenty centimeters, stretched to fifty, and was still extending.

This was the most anticipated and longed-for day of the year, but also the most dreaded and terrifying. The results of one day’s hard work could nearly rival a month’s worth of sales, yet it could also drain a person’s energy for the entire year.

Many young women gave up before the day even began, frightened off by the horror of Singles’ Day. Others, a bit braver, willing to take the risk, surrendered in defeat after experiencing one endless, grueling battle.

But if you could get through it three times, endure it three times, all doubts would vanish. Su Yishu was one of the rare survivors.

No matter how difficult something is, once it becomes a habit, the aversion and the sense of challenge decrease exponentially.

Compared to the flustered crowd around them, Su Yishu and Guo Yamei appeared calm and composed, embodying the spirit of remaining unmoved even as the world crumbled.

Yishu would first quickly scan all incoming customer inquiries, using her years of intuition to judge which were potential buyers and which were just asking questions. After filtering, she replied to each with targeted responses. Of the flood of inquiries, less than one-fifth would convert into actual sales.

In any job, the outward claim is “service first,” but internally, it’s “money above all.” All the grand words in the world can’t compete with the satisfaction of seeing your wages credited to your account.

Liu Hanzhang had declared this countless times from the center of the customer service office.

Young minds are easily swayed by those more seasoned, under the guise of learning and growth, but in reality, it’s numbness and indoctrination.

Liu Hanzhang came in, carrying two large bags of snacks, nudging the glass door open with her shoulder. She set them down with a thud on a long table by the window.

“If you’re hungry, come and take some.” She was still catching her breath. “Don’t work on an empty stomach—if you collapse from exhaustion, you’re the one who suffers.”

This fatigue and exhaustion, clearly imposed by the company, was masked by words of concern. Anyone with an independent mind could discern the truth from the pretense.

Everyone’s attention was fixed on their computer screens, their ears tuned to the chime of notifications, their fingers dancing across the keyboard. There was no energy left for anything else.

Liu Hanzhang lingered in the customer service department, ready to deliver the speech she’d prepared all day.

“Keep your spirits up! All your hard work will be rewarded today!”

“A day of effort, a year of happiness!”

Her words sounded like something from a grand pyramid scheme rally—skirting the hardships, magnifying any benefit tenfold.

“What are you doing?” Liu Hanzhang shouted at a customer service girl who stood up from her seat. “Don’t leave your post! Personal calls and texts can wait. Do you realize that just a few seconds’ delay on your part could cost us a dozen, maybe dozens, of customers?”

The girl with the braid said aggrievedly, “I just wanted to go to the restroom. Is that not allowed?”

Liu Hanzhang was momentarily taken aback, then waved her hand, “Go, go! I told you all to drink less water, but you never listen.”

She was almost obsessed, wishing everyone would wear adult diapers to save time.

The lava from a volcanic eruption, like a swarm of fire serpents, surged in all directions. By a pond, it hissed as it met the water, sending up white steam, then solidified into porous rock.

Liu Hanzhang moved to stand between Su Yishu and Guo Yamei, the three of them forming the corners of an equilateral triangle, with Liu at the apex.

“Su Yishu, Guo Yamei, you two will stay at Kaisheng all day, from midnight till night, taking orders. No need to go back to Textile City.”

“Alright.” Yishu didn’t dwell on it; she had no energy left to think.

“What about tomorrow?” Guo Yamei glanced at Liu Hanzhang.

“Of course you have to work tomorrow! Did you think the physical store would close?” Liu Hanzhang replied sharply. “Today is a special case. After today, back to business as usual!”

A flash of resentment crossed Guo Yamei’s eyes, but given the difference in their positions, she didn’t dare retort. For a week, she’d been working more than ten hours a day, snatching sleep on the bus, on the subway, eating, or even in the shower—making use of every possible moment to make up for lost rest. She felt guilty toward her son; the kindergarten teacher had assigned a craft project for parents to help with, and halfway through, she’d blacked out and fallen asleep. Her little boy, gentle as a lamb, never made a fuss, but it was precisely his understanding that made her heart ache.

By around four in the morning, the flow of inquiries dropped noticeably, and the staff could finally catch their breath.

Yishu checked her sales in the system—she was at the top, with Guo Yamei close behind.

Yet, the conversion rate was disappointingly low.

During the day, the number of customers varied, with only a small peak around noon. Some who lived nearby could go home for a brief rest. Yishu, now living in Fuyuan in the city center, would need at least an hour for a round trip, so she naturally didn’t bother.

She walked over to the long table beneath the window, found a packet of instant coffee and a hand-torn bread roll in the bag, picked up her cup, and went to the break room.

The sweetness of the coffee masked its bitterness, but did little to revive her spirits. The yawns came one after another. Turning on the tap, she cupped her hands under the cold water and splashed it onto her tired face.

The rain outside seemed to have stopped, though the sky remained gray and the distance was veiled. In the few remaining rice fields, the yellowed stalks stood in neat rows, blending with the pervasive fog into a melancholy tableau.

Strange, she thought, to still find the mood to appreciate such ordinary scenery.

She pulled a tissue from her pocket, wiped her face, and gazed at her haggard reflection in the mirror, feeling unexpectedly at peace.

They worked tirelessly until twelve ten the next morning, ending the annual online battle twenty minutes early. Suddenly, everyone seemed to lose all support, collapsing onto chairs or slumping over their desks.

Before leaving, Liu Hanzhang offered a few words of comfort in the office. As the department head, she had to balance authority with compassion.

Yishu barely listened, quietly tidying up the chaos at her desk. After tonight, this desk she’d briefly reclaimed would belong to someone else. The thought made her reluctant to leave, wishing she could turn back time just a few hours.

But in the end, she left.

Standing in the open space in front of the administration building, the wind blew without mercy, scattering her hair. Yishu greedily drew in a few breaths, her chest tightening with cold, and she couldn’t help but cough twice.

In the bike shed, a few electric scooters and bicycles always stood unclaimed. She recalled the days when she and Yan Lu would leave together, pushing their bikes—now just memories, as if yesterday had already become history.

The last bus and subway had stopped running more than ten minutes ago.

Yishu looked up at the sky, where a few faint stars dotted the darkness, becoming companions to the chill of the wind. She turned her gaze into the distance, where a tall black figure was striding toward her.