For the first time he truly felt that what rested on his shoulders was more than Xingchen's investment empire.
Some people depended on this paycheck to survive hard times.
Some pinned their hopes of promotion on the project's success or failure.
Some, during late-night overtime, worried about the child waiting at the door at home… What he held in his hand was more than contracts and KPIs.
It was the livelihood, expectations, even the dreams hidden in daily necessities of so many.
Jiang Cheng suddenly felt something settle on his shoulders—not heavy, yet so clear he couldn't ignore it.
Was this what they called responsibility?
Before, the role of company leader had felt optional to him.
Now, seeing his colleagues' blood-shot eyes and dog-eared documents,
a heartfelt thought arose: "I can't let them down."
As he lifted his foot to enter he bumped right into the high-ponytailed girl coming out hugging folders.
Her face still flushed.
Seeing him, the girl jumped, straightening hurriedly: "President Jiang."
"Ask Admin to order afternoon tea," Jiang Cheng's voice was deeper than usual.
"afternoon tea for the whole company. Make it generous—sweet and savory, varied drinks: coffee, milk tea, juice—company account."
The girl's eyes lit up; her pen flew across her notepad: "Got it! Then… budget limit?"
"No cap," Jiang Cheng said briskly. "Let everyone enjoy today."
After a pause, recalling the earlier mention of "surgery fee," he added, "Have HR liaise with you; your mom's surgery cost goes through the company welfare process."
Hearing this, the girl froze, eyes wide; several seconds passed before she reacted.
She nodded hard: "Yes! Thank you, President Jiang! Thank you!" Her voice cracked with tears yet carried a new sparkle.
Jiang Cheng said nothing more and turned toward his office.
As he rounded the corner to his office,
he saw several employees slinging arms around shoulders heading for the elevator, chatting about where to eat well tonight.
Their laughter drifted up, struck the glass, and shattered into a warm, cozy sound.
He suddenly understood what his father always meant by "the burden."
Only now did he realize: the higher the position and the bigger the "company," the more people tied behind it, and the heavier that burden grew.
The tycoon system had given him the leverage to move the world.
Yet only at this moment did he understand:
The real weight was never in the account balance but in these living, breathing people.
In their cheers, their hopes, in the choked voice saying "the surgery fee is covered."
Jiang Cheng pushed open his office door; sunlight slanted across the desk, illuminating the newly signed contract.
Growth is perhaps like this—at some unguarded instant,
you suddenly realize what you've gained is not just power and status, but also the responsibilities hidden within.
And these responsibilities will eventually become the confidence that steadies your footing.
As Jiang Cheng gazed at the bustling traffic outside the window to settle his mood,
Zhao Linger walked in carrying two bags.
"President Jiang, I've got something good to share with you."
Jiang Cheng had only walked Huang Zheng to the elevator, while Zhao Linger and Chen Xueer accompanied them into the elevator down to the garage.
Jiang Cheng's originally gloomy face softened a little the instant he saw Zhao Linger.
He stood up to meet her and casually took the two bags from her hands.
Casually he said, "I just asked Admin to prepare afternoon tea—everyone in the company gets some."
Hearing this, Zhao Linger's mouth opened in an "ah."
"Why didn't you say so earlier? I could've sprinted downstairs to the dessert shop across the street to grab extras. Sigh, if I'm too stuffed to eat anything else later, won't that be painful?"
Seeing her foodie expression, Jiang Cheng smiled dotingly.
"What's painful about it? After you digest, I'll buy you whatever you want—just you."
Zhao Linger said nothing in reply,
but her faintly flushed cheeks and upturned lips showed her good mood.
Spreading the desserts on the table, he saw it was papaya milk again.
Jiang Cheng raised an eyebrow. "Every time you bring this. Seems you're pretty fixated on 'nourishing' me. Need my help?"
Zhao Linger gave a coquettish laugh. "Oh, President Jiang, you've got it wrong. Do I look like I need supplements? I buy it because milk is healthy—low sugar, nourishes yin and beauty—it's a great tonic."
With that lift of her chest, Jiang Cheng found it hard to argue.
Whatever you say, you're right.
Besides, milk really does "nourish" yin and replenish moisture.
Yes, yes, everything you say is correct.
"If you don't like it, I also brought grilled sausages, cake, low-sugar lemon tea, and coffee…"
Looking at the charred black-pepper sausage and the papaya milk,
Jiang Cheng could only think: lucky he wasn't some desperate guy,
or else Zhao Linger would really get an earful.
"Where's Chen Xueer?"
"Sister Xueer is doing wrap-ups with the department heads."