Vũ Hoàng Hải's black SUV sped through the suburban night, leaving behind the noisy, tense atmosphere of the set. Lâm Mộc Trà sat curled up in the passenger seat, temporarily wrapped in the oversized fleece jacket Hải had taken from the trunk for her. Even with the heater on, she still shivered now and then from the soaking-wet, mud-caked clothes underneath.
The car was so quiet that Trà could clearly hear her own heart pounding. Boss Hải focused on driving, the sharp, lonely lines of his profile passing in and out of the streetlights.
The car stopped in front of a convenience store open 24/7.
Hải unfastened his seat belt, got out, then came back and tapped on the window:
Stay put.
Less than ten minutes later, he returned and tossed a plastic bag into Trà's lap. Inside were a plain white cotton T-shirt, a basic pair of sweatpants, and a bottle of water.
Go change in the restroom at the gas station up ahead. I don't want tomorrow's personnel report to have another intern calling in sick.
Trà hurried off, clutching the bag of clothes. When she returned, she looked much cleaner and more put-together, even though the men's-size T-shirt hung a little loose on her petite frame. She opened the door and climbed back into the car, murmuring:
Um, about the money for these clothes... I'll pay you back at the end of the month when I get my internship paycheck.
Hải started the engine, one corner of his mouth twitching:
Can your internship paycheck even buy a few cups of milk tea, and you think you're going to pay me back? Just consider it the company's advance against workplace-accident risk.
Trà obediently shut her mouth, not daring to argue. Her stomach suddenly let out a loud gurgle. Her face flushed bright red, and she wrapped both hands around her stomach. She had been hauling props and running errands from the crack of dawn until late at night, and had only managed to nibble half a baguette at noon.
Hải sighed softly and turned the wheel. Instead of heading toward downtown, the SUV veered onto a quiet side street. He parked in front of a Japanese-style noodle shop that was still lit up.
Get out. Hải's voice was curt.
It was a small Seichou Ramen, but the decor was exceptionally cozy. Hải seemed to be a regular. He ordered two bowls of special ramen in a rich, savory bone broth. As steam billowed from the bowls, Trà couldn't help swallowing hard. She picked up her chopsticks and hesitantly looked at the man sitting across from her.
Eat. Looking at me won't fill you up. Hải took a sip of hot tea and spoke in an indifferent tone.
Trà picked up a huge bundle of noodles and slurped the sweet, clear broth. The cold that had seeped into her bones seemed to melt away completely. She looked up at him with wide, round eyes:
Boss... why did you defend me in front of Bao Anh earlier? She's obviously the Director of External Affairs. Getting on her bad side won't be good for your work.
Hải's chopsticks stopped halfway to his mouth. He looked at the twenty-year-old student sitting across from him, a complicated glint appearing in his eyes.
I wasn't defending you. I was defending the truth. At StarBrite, or any other company, if you didn't do anything wrong, don't bow your head and accept the blame just because the other person has a higher position. The entertainment industry is fake enough already. There's no need to put on another act backstage.
Trà quietly nodded, engraving every word he said into her heart. That late-night bowl of noodles didn't just fill her empty stomach; it also warmed a small, timid corner of the intern's heart.
(Hi, everyone. Sun here. This story is based on my own perspectives and way of thinking. I know it's still pretty clumsy, so feel free to give me feedback and help me improve my writing and build my vocabulary. I'm a little awkward when it comes to expressing my gratitude, but thank you all for taking the time to read. Please look forward to what happens next in this story.)