Chapter Text
“Enough! How old are you? Are you still playing pretend hero?!”
“Uhh… maybe, but-”
“No maybes! Look at you! What is noteworthy about you? What abilities do you have? What noteworthy traits do you have?!”
“You are just an average. Mediocre. Person.”
Lin Ling was fired that very same day. His boss was tired of his ideas always calling him juvenile. The last straw came with his latest pitch, complete with the tagline “To Be Hero X!”
Though his boss told him to send it straight to the client, he wasn't so happy when he found out what it was.
Lin Ling was, in truth, just an ordinary man. Not particularly skilled at anything, but he wasn’t about to let his boss’s cruel words crush him. He may not be a hero with abilities, but he still had himself and his ideas, perhaps getting fired was meant to be, and a fresh new beginning is exactly what he needed.
Whether it was coincidence or luck, a spot at another firm opened up, and Lin Ling wasted no time applying, though he had to start at the very bottom as a junior. During the interview, the hiring team was skeptical; his lack of a proper reference and abrupt firing did not inspire confidence. Somehow, they saw potential and decided to take a chance and put him on strict probation under the watchful eye of a perfectionist.
“Ren Lian, we’re pulling you out of your current team. We need you to closely supervise a new recruit, Lin Ling.”
It was an ordinary, quiet day at the office when Ren Lian was called in by his boss. At first, he thought it had to do with his latest project since they were quite behind schedule, but instead, he has been called to play baby sitter to a new troublemaker his superiors decided to hire.
“Sir, with all due respect, our team needs all the help we can get. If you take me out, we—”
“Don’t worry about that anymore, Ren Lian. Upper management has that situation under control. The company believes keeping an eye on Lin Ling is a bigger priority. They were impressed by his skills at his previous firm, despite his firing. His knack for creative commercials could be valuable for bigger ventures.”
Ren Lian already knew he wouldn’t talk his way out of this. He would have to deal with the situation. At least, he thought, maybe he could stop working overtime.
Ren Lian didn’t talk much. He typed at the keyboard nonstop and stared at spreadsheets with the intensity of someone interrogating a criminal. His desk was pristine, almost military in neatness, and his posture never slouched even after six hours of back-to-back client briefs. He didn’t make idle chatter. He didn’t go out for drinks with the others. He didn’t even join in when someone brought cake for a birthday.
Lin Ling didn’t understand him at all. Ren Lian was an enigma. No matter what, Lin Ling couldn’t seem to break through that invisible wall. Ren Lian also seemed determined to give him only the most mundane, boring work.
It wasn’t out of spite, maybe a little because of boredom, but mostly because something about Ren Lian’s ice-cold professionalism made Lin Ling’s fingers twitch with ideas. He couldn’t help but imagine all the ways he might get that little crack of expression from him. A smile, a frown, a confused look—anything, really, to make him seem like an actual living being instead of an efficient robot.
But every attempt ended in failure, their conversations reduced to numbers, charts, or clients, and that’s only if Lin Ling was lucky.
“Hey, Ren Lian! What if we pitched an ad with Lucky Cyan as the spokesperson? You know… she talks about ‘getting lucky in sales,’ maybe we hand out coupons like blessings?”
Ren Lian didn’t even look up from his screen. “Please format the client list by industry category. Deadline is noon.”
Lin Ling slumped over his chair, defeated yet again.
He’d been at the new agency for two weeks, and his reputation as an eccentric from the last firm had followed him. His new boss had warned him to keep things professional since he was under probation. He’d been told Ren Lian, the quiet supervisor seated next to him, would be watching his progress.
Watching, yes. Speaking? Not so much. Lin Ling thought the only real conversation they’d had was at their very first meeting, and that was just introducing themselves.
Every day settled into the same routine: Lin Ling greeted him every morning, tried to spark small talk, and got little more than clipped one-word answers. The next eight to nine hours passed in a haze of tedious, unfulfilling tasks. Lin Ling wasn’t sure which was worse, making endless “Nice” commercials at his old job or being buried in boring assignments here.
Ren Lian had a habit of disappearing almost instantly at break time, so quickly and silently that Lin Ling could never figure out how he managed it. It was as if he simply vanished.
Then came a slow Thursday afternoon, when time dripped like cold molasses. Lin Ling could hardly keep his eyes open. Every step to the break room felt like it took ten times the effort. Deciding to take his break five minutes early, he wandered in, hoping caffeine would save him from spreadsheet-induced collapse.
That’s when he saw it.
The Sugar Incident.
Ren Lian was alone in the break room, adding sugar to his coffee. Not one packet. Not two. Not even five.
Eight.
One after another, he tore the packets open with precise, practiced movements, emptying them into his cup without hesitation.
Then, with the ease of a man who had done this a thousand times, Ren Lian scooped up the remaining sugar packets, slipped them into his coat pocket, and glided out of the room without a sound.
Lin Ling stood frozen in the doorway, coffee cup in hand, marveling at how anyone could drink coffee that sweet. In the middle of his confusion, a sudden idea began to form, one that would change everything.
Lin Ling didn’t waste a single night after The Sugar Incident before putting his newest and most important project into motion, ‘Operation Sweet Sneak’. If he couldn’t break through Ren Lian’s quiet wall with conversation, then maybe he could lure him in one piece of candy at a time.
It started small. A single wrapped candy was left on Ren Lian’s desk, perfectly in plain sight. No note, no explanation. Just there as if testing the waters.
The next day, another appeared, but this time tucked inside one of his drawers, like a little secret waiting to be discovered. Another day, it sat balanced delicately against his keyboard. Once, it was inside his coffee mug, timed perfectly with his diabetically sweet coffee ritual.
Ren Lian never said a word. But Lin Ling noticed something: certain flavors were left untouched in the dusty pen holder, clearly discarded. Slowly, those flavors stopped showing up. Only the candies Ren Lian ate remained. The unspoken selection made it feel almost… personal, like a quiet conversation that didn’t need words.
Ren Lian was certain it was Lin Ling, but since Lin Ling never acknowledged it, neither did he. Still, the ritual became a highlight of his mornings. He began arriving at the office with an odd anticipation, eyes flicking to his desk first thing to see if a new candy had arrived. It became a kind of quiet treasure hunt, a small spark of warmth in his otherwise predictable days.
When he wasn’t working, he was out and about being X, fighting crime with a certain showmanship. Everybody around him adored his every movement, praising him just for existing. Though nobody seemed to know who he was at all, even what he liked, everybody except Lin Ling.
As the weeks passed, Ren Lian found himself noticing Lin Ling more, his habits, his energy, his quirks. How he worked with surprising focus when given a task that interested him. The wrinkle between his brows when boredom set in. How his desk was systematically tidy, yet filled with the tiniest, almost hidden personal touches.
Each week, the candy evolved, too. From milk candies to bite-sized chocolates to fruit drops. Each time the type changed, Lin Ling seemed oddly tense, as if holding his breath for some silent reaction. Ren Lian would turn the candy over in his fingers, the same way he fidgeted with his coin, sometimes even sniffing it like an absurdly picky eater. It made him smile, just a small one, but enough that he caught himself doing it.
Perhaps, Ren Lian thought, he’d been too rigid. Lin Ling wasn’t just a troublemaker from another agency. There was something persistent and strangely endearing about him. Gradually, Ren Lian began giving him more interesting tasks, softening the edges of his supervision.
Then one day, without any real planning, he found himself saying, “It’s break time. Do you want to go out to lunch together?”