I, Lin Youyou, received a do-or-die order on my first day at work: land the new book by the mysterious literary superstar “Jin Yan.”
While worrying myself bald, I discovered that a devastatingly handsome guy lived across the hall.
I decided to take advantage of being so close, pretending to bump into him every day, bringing him breakfast, fixing his pipes, and playing the damsel in distress.
Then one day, I found my proposal in his study, covered in red marks: “Immature.” “Superficial.” “Trying to get by on your looks?”
Mortified, I tried to run, but he cornered me in the elevator:
“You flirt with me and then try to run? Editor Lin, I’ll only accept your proposal if you present it to me ‘in person.’”
Only later did I find out that he wasn’t just a literary god, but also my elusive boss.
Later still, he held me close at his new-book launch and announced to cameras around the world:
“The heroine is based on her. The rights belong to her, and so do I.”
