At the end of June, StarBrite held a major pitching presentation to defend the budget for its event projects in the second half of the year, including the FanClub app project. The evaluation panel consisted of the company's board of directors and key investment partners.
The atmosphere in the VIP conference room was suffocatingly tense. Bao Anh sat in the front row with her arms crossed, the corners of her full red lips curling into a knowing half-smile as she looked toward Hai's team.
When Hai stepped onto the stage, his confident, professional bearing quickly drew the attention of the entire panel. He smoothly presented the marketing strategy and the 3D stage design. But just as he clicked to the most important slide—the conclusion covering the budget metrics and KPI commitments—the enormous LED screen behind him suddenly began flickering before going completely dark. The central control computer displayed an error indicating that the data file's format was corrupted.
Whispers rose throughout the conference room. “What happened? Is the file corrupted?” “The most important part, and they prepared it this unprofessionally?”
Bao Anh seized the opportunity and spoke in a razor-sharp voice. “Hai, the equipment breaking down at the exact moment you're supposed to convince investors to put up money is truly disappointing. Or did the Production team fail to prepare the financial report properly?”
Hai frowned. He knew for certain that the file had been thoroughly checked before being copied to the server. Someone had tampered with it. He was about to ask a technician to bring up his personal laptop as a replacement when a clear, confident, extraordinarily resonant voice rang out from the secretary's table in the corner of the room:
“I’m the person responsible for presenting the conclusion from the file I submitted, members of the board and honored partners.”
Every eye turned toward Lam Moc Tra. The twenty-year-old girl in a simple office outfit, clutching her notebook tightly, walked steadily up to the presentation stage and stood right beside Vu Hoang Hai.
Hai looked at her. A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes before instantly turning into absolute trust. He stepped half a pace back, giving her the space.
Without a projector or any visual effects to support her, Tra looked straight into the eyes of the most demanding executives.
“Even without visual aids, every figure is already accounted for in our plan. Based on the SMART framework, this project's Specific goal is to reach 100,000 app downloads in the first week. We can Measure that entirely through the backend system...”
Tra laid out every figure and operational strategy she and Hai had built while staying up all night, clearly and fluently. She had memorized every conversion rate, profit margin, and even the contingency risk costs. Her presence blazed at that moment, completely overpowering the technical failure that had just occurred.
When her conclusion rang out with strength and conviction, the entire conference room fell silent for three seconds. Then the elderly CEO seated in the center began to clap. The applause quickly spread throughout the room. Bao Anh's face went from red to deathly white, and she couldn't utter a word.
That afternoon, the Production Department held a major celebration. But Tra and the group of interns had to face another “ordeal”: the monthly standardized multiple-choice competency assessment.
After Tra handed in her test and stepped into the hallway, she saw Lan—her fellow intern—frowning and tearing at her hair beside the water cooler. “Tra, the questions about the media crisis-response process were so hard. I guessed on the last few. I’m probably going to fail this evaluation!” Lan whined.
Tra burst out laughing, pulled out her phone, typed rapidly, and hit send. Lan's phone began vibrating furiously. “1B 2D 3D 4B 5A 6A 7A 8B 9C 10C 11A 12C 13B 14B 15A 16B 17B 18D 19C 20D, Version 1. Compare these answers with yours. For question 20, the budget one, trust me—it’s D!”
Lan read the message, checked it against what she remembered, then sighed in relief and threw her arms around Tra, thanking her with her eyes squeezed shut.
“Giving answers to a coworker violates company policy. Deduct half a month’s intern pay.”
Hai appeared from nowhere, his icy voice ringing out behind them and making both girls jump. Terrified, Lan hurried straight back to her desk, leaving Tra standing there with an awkward smile.
Hai slipped both hands into his pants pockets, the corners of his mouth twitching as he held back a laugh. “Get your personal belongings ready. We’re taking a late flight tomorrow night. Our team is going to Buon Ma Thuot to survey the location of a movie theater and set up a promotional booth for the new app.”
The following night, in the small rented room, Tra struggled to cram all sorts of things into her carry-on suitcase. Knowing that the highland weather would be scorching during the day and chilly at night, she carefully packed three tubes of broad-spectrum sunscreen in her makeup bag. At the same time, she made sure not to forget her blemish-control serum, in case staying up late to meet deadlines made her skin revolt.
Their VietJet Air flight took off at nine that evening. Sitting in the cramped airplane seat, Tra occasionally gripped the armrest whenever the plane passed through bad weather and shook lightly. Hai sat right beside her, calmly flipping through an airline magazine. Seeing the girl beside him squeezing her eyes shut, her face pale with fear of heights, he sighed softly and pressed the call button to ask a flight attendant for a glass of warm water.
“Drink this, then close your eyes and sleep for a while. We’ll be there in a little over an hour.” His voice seemed to possess a reassuring magic, easing more than half of the tension in Tra.
When they arrived in Buon Ma Thuot, the group checked into the hotel at midnight. The next morning, they threw themselves straight into work. Their survey site was the city's largest entertainment complex. After a long day of measuring dimensions and working out plans to install a 3D archway, everyone was completely exhausted.
That night, instead of going drinking with Tuan and the crew, Hai invited Tra out for a walk. The two of them entered the brightly lit lobby of CGV Buon Ma Thuot. “Do you want to check the brightness of the advertising LED screens in the theater?” Tra asked professionally, pulling out her notebook to take notes.
Hai gently pressed her notebook down. He walked to the ticket counter, bought two movie tickets, and a large popcorn-and-drink combo. “We’re not working anymore today. Consider this a reward for your outstanding comeback in the conference room the other day.”
The two sat in the spacious movie theater as the enormous screen played a gentle romance. The highland chill seemed to be left behind beyond the layers of soundproof doors. Tra occasionally stole glances at the perfect profile of the man sitting beside her. In the faint light reflected from the screen, she realized that the cold, unapproachable boss she had once known had now become a brilliant, indispensable part of her twenty-year-old youth.