Can't Hide My Love for You - Chapter 58

Li Wenjing received a complaint stating that there was a quality issue with the oranges from Cheng Yixin’s charity livestream. After a long wait, some fans finally received their packages, but the contents did not match what had been advertised in the stream.

In a five-jin (approx. 2.5kg) box, only three or four oranges arrived intact; the rest were damaged or even rotten to the point of being inedible. Furthermore, even the healthy oranges were not as large as promised. Fans who tried to message the customer service on the purchasing platform found themselves met with total silence.

The fans who received these goods didn’t complain in the public group. Instead, they sent private messages to Li Wenjing, earnestly advising her to keep a tighter grip on quality control for future livestreams. If this got out—even if it was only a one-in-thirty-thousand chance—marketing accounts would seize the opportunity to blow it out of proportion.

To prevent the situation from escalating, Li Wenjing immediately contacted the fans to issue refunds and promised to give feedback to the merchant to ensure they re-shipped high-quality replacements. After handling the fans, she called Liu Min. His line was busy, but he replied to her text instantly.

[Liu Min]: It’s an issue with the picking at the warehouse. We hired a few extra people this week to help pack, and they must have accidentally boxed the culls that were meant to be thrown away!

[Li Wenjing]: How could they make such a rookie mistake?

[Liu Min]: They’re just temporary workers!

[Li Wenjing]: Also, consumers are saying your customer service isn’t online. They can’t reach anyone for after-sales.

[Liu Min]: I’ll handle it, don’t worry!

She sent Liu Min the order number and the recipient’s name from the complaint.

[Li Wenjing]: This consumer reported that the oranges were poor and didn’t meet the size advertised. I’ve confirmed they don’t match the samples you sent us. According to the “Compensation for Damage” rule for fruit, I need you to re-ship her order according to the standard selection criteria.

[Liu Min]: Okay, no problem!

Li Wenjing felt uneasy; her temples throbbed as if something bad was about to happen. She opened her own order record. The tracking number had been out for nearly ten days, and the logistics status was finally showing movement. The package had been picked up two days ago and was heading to a transit station, but there had been no updates since.

Looking at the courier service used, she realized it was one notorious in the e-commerce world for being slow and indifferent. Its only saving grace was that it was very cheap, which allowed it to occupy a segment of the market. She was speechless. For a product like fruit, Liu Min had used such a slow shipping method. If it had been any other type of fresh produce, wouldn’t it rot even faster?

Li Wenjing didn’t notice an inconspicuous “auto-receipt” timer on the page showing only 1 day and 2 hours left, nor did she notice that this platform lacked the “Compensation for Damage” guarantee label. She took a deep breath. Fortunately, the fans had contacted her first rather than exposing it online. She could only hope this matter would land smoothly.

The psychologist Cheng Yixin had booked was part of a private institution located inside a commercial building. Compared to a public hospital, a private clinic significantly reduced the chance of being recognized and offered better privacy. If her name appeared on a paging screen in a psychiatry department, it would become fodder for marketing accounts, making things even more complicated.

The appointment was for 8:00 PM. Cheng Yixin finished work as usual and the van headed toward the Junshan neighborhood.

“I need to buy some things. Just drop me off at Future City,” she told Xiao Yu.

“Sure. What do you need? I can get it for you.”

“No need, I want to browse the supermarket myself while I’m at it.”

“Alright.”

The van dropped her off at the mall’s west entrance, which was relatively quiet. She waved to Xiao Yu. “Go home and rest early.”

“Got it! Call me anytime if you need anything!”

Yixin watched the van drive away, then turned to the mall building. The exterior was minimalist and very clean. She remembered Chi Yi once asking if she wanted to put up some of her endorsement advertisements there, as brands were interested in collaborating with the mall.

How had she answered then? She had been afraid that hanging her posters there would be too conspicuous and that President Chi’s favoritism would be too obvious, creating a bad influence. Now that she thought about it, what “influence” would it really have? It was just her own cowardice, her fear that an exposure would lead to losing everything, which forced Chi Yi into a secret relationship.

She let out a soft “heh.” Even through her mask, the deep breath felt chilly in her chest. Wrapping her coat tighter, she headed to the bus stop at the west gate. She hailed a taxi and got in with one smooth motion.

“Sir, to the Tianji Building.”

“You got it. Buckle up.” The driver glanced at the passenger in the back through the rearview mirror. Seeing someone wearing sunglasses, a mask, and a baseball cap deep into the night was a rare sight. “Young lady, you aren’t some big movie star, are you?”

“Huh?” For a second, Yixin wondered how she could be recognized when she was wrapped up like this. What kind of eyes did this man have?

“Wearing sunglasses at night—do you think it’s not dark enough?” the driver teased with a laugh.

“…” She had almost forgotten she was still wearing them. It was just a habit for disguise. She took them off and put them in her pocket. “No, I have facial allergies. I wanted to cover it up.”

“Oh, I see,” the driver nodded. “Don’t worry, allergies clear up in a few days. My daughter is prone to them too. She gets little spots on her face and insists on wearing a mask even in the heat. I tell her the mask just makes it stuffy and harder to recover. Actually, everyone on the street is in a rush; no one is looking at you. Those who meet you will remember you at your best; they won’t care about a temporary allergy.”

The driver was talkative and kept trying to comfort her. Yixin thought about playing along, then tilted her head to look out the window. She wished she really could just be “allergic.”

The taxi arrived at the Tianji Building at 7:50 PM. After getting out, Cheng Yixin looked around. There were only normal cars on the road and no one was paying her any attention. She pulled up her mask and entered the building, more cautious than she had ever been.

This was her first time at the Tianji Building. If not for her current needs, she never would have known there was a psychological counseling center here. The directory by the elevator showed that the entire 32nd floor was the office area for the institution.

Stepping out of the elevator, she found a large waiting area with sofas, coffee tables, and a self-service bar. The minimalist style was touched with light luxury, and the warm tones helped her relax slightly. Past the waiting area was the front desk.

“Hello, do you have an appointment?”

“I have an 8:00 PM appointment. My surname is Cheng.”

“One moment, please.” The receptionist checked the registration log. After a minute, she asked, “Are you Ms. Cheng Yi?”

Hearing the name, Cheng Yixin blanked for a second before nodding. “Yes.” When booking, she hadn’t wanted to use her real name to avoid prying eyes. If today’s session wasn’t helpful, using a pseudonym wouldn’t stop her from trying somewhere else.

“Alright, I’ve found your appointment. Dr. Nan is ready; I’ll take you to the consulting room.”

The facility occupied the entire floor. As the receptionist led her further in, Yixin saw nameplates on every door. Deep in the corridor, they stopped at a creamy-white door labeled “Nan Ke.”

The phrase Nan Ke Yi Meng (The Dream of Nan Ke / A Fleeting Dream) flashed through her mind. It was a very fitting name for the profession.

In the minute before the door opened, Yixin’s heart rate suddenly spiked—a nervousness toward the unknown. She was afraid that after the consultation, the doctor would give her a diagnosis of depression, in which case she really might become depressed. She had also seen posts online about psychologists being a scam—expensive fees, dismissive attitudes, and so on. For a moment, she wanted to turn around and leave.

“Dr. Nan, Ms. Cheng is here.” The receptionist’s voice cut off her thought of escape.

“Alright.” Dr. Nan, who had been sitting at a desk, stood up and walked toward them.

Previously, Yixin had imagined a psychologist would be wearing a white lab coat or very formal professional attire. But the doctor before her was completely different: light blue jeans, a cream-colored knit sweater, and her hair simply pulled back with a claw clip.

“Hello, Ms. Cheng. I am Nan Ke, the doctor you booked.” If Nan Ke hadn’t spoken, Yixin might not have believed she was the doctor. “Let’s sit and talk.” Nan Ke gestured toward the sofa in the lounge area.

“O-okay.”

Once they sat down, Nan Ke poured her a cup of hot tea. “The temperature dropped again today. Have some tea to warm up, and we’ll begin shortly.”

Yixin took the tea, but as she brought it to her lips, she remembered her mask. She looked at Nan Ke, caught in a dilemma.

“Ms. Cheng, if it’s convenient, please take off your mask. It makes for a more comfortable environment for us to chat.”

Won’t I be exposed if I take it off? But she also knew that if she couldn’t trust her psychologist, there was no point in coming here. She took off her mask and hat. Nan Ke’s eyes paused for a brief moment as she took in her face.

“You are Cheng Yixin. The actress who is often on TV.”

“Yes. I hope the contents of this visit will remain strictly confidential.”

“This conversation is between you and me; no third party will know. This is my professional ethics as a psychologist,” Nan Ke said solemnly.

Relieved, Cheng Yixin took a sip of tea and finally had the chance to look around. The room was large—about a hundred square meters—and filled with greenery, making it feel cozy. A large white blackout curtain was drawn, and the room was bathed in warm yellow light. Combined with the comfortable temperature, it was different from the cold, impersonal clinic she had imagined.

Noticing her gaze, Nan Ke spoke up, “What do you think of the room’s decor?”

“It’s nice,” Yixin’s eyes landed on a vase of fresh flowers. “It’s beautiful. Not much like a doctor’s office.”

“We are free to decorate our rooms to make people feel relaxed and less defensive when they come in to talk.” Nan Ke looked down at her own clothes and smiled. “That’s also why we don’t wear white coats that might make people feel nervous.”

“Dr. Nan, how do you view actors coming for counseling?”

“Actors are human too. Humans have emotional troubles—whether they stem from work, study, family, or relationships. It has nothing to do with what profession you pursue.”

“Some people think that public figures should have stronger psychological resilience than ordinary people.”

“That is usually a psychological comfort that online bullies give themselves to mask the harm they cause others.”

Nan Ke’s words resonated with Cheng Yixin. She felt that the person in front of her was someone she could confide in.

“Dr. Nan… I have a partner I’m currently dating.”

One moment, the conversation seemed to be about professional setbacks, but the next, it took a sharp 180-degree turn.