This Intention Is Sent to the East Wind

In Shanghai, everyone is an island. Copywriter and planner Su Wan believed this until that rainy night when she was forced to get into a strange man's car. His name is Lu Zeyan, a construction engineer who works on the same floor as her but lives in another dimension. He remembered her copywriting that was rejected by Party A, and saw through her embarrassment under her decent professional attire. I thought it was just a fleeting kindness in the city, and it would end as soon as the rain stopped. But later, the umbrella he handed over had not been returned, but the bento he made "conveniently" was delivered to him. His reasoning is impeccable—colleagues look out for each other. But in this city where efficiency is the norm, who would be moved by the phrase "your words have warmth"? Who would prepare a warm lunch for a "not troublesome" stranger every day? The east wind has risen, and undercurrents are gradually arising. Should that "heart" that hesitates to speak, and how should it be placed on this seemingly unintentional wind?