A meeting on the verge of losing control was saved by a still-steaming breakfast.62Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDzBZmIMHFr
62Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3X7Cz4z3l9
Today, the meeting room is slightly different from usual.
The table is covered with breakfast, paper bags piled on top of each other, oil already seeping through their corners.
Hash browns, in particular, are especially plentiful.
The art lead reaches out, picks up a bag of hash browns, gives it a small shake—crisp rustling at the opening—then sets it back down slowly.
“This… will it really calm him down?”
The screenwriter sits nearby, already unwrapping an egg roll, taking a bite before looking up.
“Probably… the director says this place is the boss’s favorite.”
The art lead lowers their gaze, looking at the spread of gold across the table.
“Doesn’t he have a lot of favorites…”
The manager lowers their voice, adding:
“I just passed by the boss’s office... you can still hear him crying.”
Air pauses.
Just then, the door is flung open—the director rushes in.
Without sparing anyone a glance, straight to the table—hand reaching out—
from the pile of hash browns, he grabs one cleanly, turns, rushes back to the door.
“Look at this! Come on—take a bite while it’s hot!”
The still-hot hash brown gets shoved straight into the boss’s mouth.
“Mm—… so good…” comes out muffled, with a slight catch at the end.
No space to gather himself—the director pushes and pulls, pressing him into the chair.
“If it’s good, eat more. There’s plenty.”
Crisp, efficient—like a routine already rehearsed.
Pressed into the chair, tears still hanging, the boss already lowers his head, looking at the breakfast on the table.
He sniffs, voice still trembling from crying.
“Mm… can I have nabeyaki egg noodles too?”
The director answers almost instantly, without hesitation:
“Sure, sure. Eat whatever you want.”
And so, everyone watches, right before their eyes, he wipes away the tears and starts eating—quiet, yet gradually slipping out of control.
62Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡK3onBuSjsQ
62Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZ8QT5SljOZ
As the rustle of plastic bags fades, the clink of a spoon against a bowl fades with it.
The director leans forward slightly, voice soft.
“…Do you want to go wash your face first?”
A brief pause, eyes falling on the boss’s still-reddened eyes.
“Weren’t you… going to say something?”
The boss’s hand still holding the chopsticks, paused at the edge of the bowl.
He goes still for a few seconds, then blinks.
“…Right.”
“Right! I was going to talk to you about the upcoming plans!”
His voice lifts, emotion rushing back in.
“It’s all you guys—… ngh…”
Almost by reflex, the director reaches out, blocking him, words tumbling fast:
“Okay, okay, it’s us, it’s us.”
Nodding with exaggerated sincerity, the other hand already pulling the door halfway open.
“Go wash your face first. We’ll talk when you come back.”
Half pushed, half coaxed, the boss is ushered out, turning back as if to say something—then only sniffing.
The door closes.
The art lead finally speaks.
“…That actually worked?”
“Of course.” The director gives a small smile.
“That’s the breakfast we used to eat when we were students.”
As he speaks, one hand casually tossing the paper bags on the table into a trash bag.
“One time he calls me in the middle of the night—first thing he says—”
“Did you know Luzhuyuan is actually still open?!”
The manager lets out a laugh, shoulders shaking lightly, then lifts a hand to cover the mouth.
“It took me a while to even figure out what he was talking about.”
“It’s called Luzhuting! He never gets it right.”
The art lead laughs too, fingers idly brushing the paper bags on the table.
“Sigh… too bad his favorite tater tots aren’t sold anymore.”
“No wonder.” The screenwriter leans back, laughing a bit carelessly.62Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡg9Cz8PTgyx
“He must be so moved—that’s why he’s crying and eating at the same time.”
The director suddenly remembers something, glancing around the table.
“Hey—did anyone have the Dan Bing?”
“Their cheese stretches, you know.”
“The screenwriter did.” The art lead says, lightly tapping the trash bag by the table with a toe.
The bag hangs slightly open—inside, a few clam shells.
She glances down, a brow lifting.
“They give quite a lot of clams.”
“Yeah.” The director nods.62Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxryU5wHFpo
“It had this much before too.”
The conversation drifts around the food for a while, until the screenwriter asks, almost without thinking.
“Mm… about us secretly filming Love Unmoved… that’s behind us now, right?”
For a moment, the mood turns a little strange.
The manager instinctively looks to the director.
“…I guess? He did just eat, after all… so.”
The director meets their gazes—for once, he actually doesn’t look away.
“What we should be worrying about now is the plan he just mentioned.”
“…Yeah.”
The room falls quiet again.
No one brings it up again.
ns216.73.216.98da2
and then Add to home screen.