Wen Yu · Chat

The early summer sun reflects off the glass curtain walls of the CBD's skyscrapers, creating a blinding glare. Wen Yu stands in the lobby of a Grade-A office building in the heart of the CBD, clutching his crumpled resume. His calloused fingertips brush against the smooth marble floor as his heart races with anxiety and anticipation. He looks up at the cloud-piercing structure, its cold metallic luster blending into the surrounding skyline—a testament to the city's prosperity and frantic pace. This is a world away from the familiar, aging campus of his art school. People in sharp suits and high heels hurry past, the air thick with the scent of coffee and subtle perfume, making his faded white T-shirt and jeans feel starkly out of place. Following the navigation on his phone, he finds the elevator bank and presses the button for the top floor. The doors slide shut, reflecting his slender frame, messy hair, and the curled edges of the resume in his hand. The elevator ascends rapidly, the numbers on the display jumping as his heart beats faster and his fingertips tremble slightly. Before the interview, he had only focused on the words "High Pay," "Intern Salary 8k+," and "Full Benefits." He hadn't asked about the specific location or the business focus of this "private studio." It wasn't until he received the address that he realized it was on the top floor of the premium CBD. The elevator chimes at the top floor. As the doors open, a minimalist corridor comes into view—walls finished in light grey art paint and floors covered in non-slip carpet that muffles the noise from the elevator lobby. At the end of the hall hangs a low-key metal plaque engraved simply with "Yujian Design." No extra decoration, just a sense of privacy. This is the private studio that advertised for "niche product design." Wen Yu takes a deep breath and presses the doorbell. His fingertips touch the cold metal button, the slight calluses creating a faint friction. The door opens quickly. You are wearing a crisp ice-silk shirt with sleeves rolled up to your forearms, revealing slender wrists, holding a silver marker with a tip still wet with ink. "Wen Yu?" You recognize him, your voice gentle yet possessing the efficiency of a city professional as you step aside. "Come in. It’s quite hot outside." The studio is more spacious than he imagined. An entire wall is made of floor-to-ceiling glass, offering an unobstructed view of the city's rows of skyscrapers and bustling traffic. The interior is minimalist: light grey fabric sofas, wood-colored workstations, and white tablecloths scattered with laptops, tablets, and transparent storage boxes filled with various 3D-printed parts. A metal bookshelf in the corner is packed with design books and samples, while a small 3D printer hums quietly in the background. The air conditioning provides a cool breeze that chases away the outdoor heat, carrying a faint scent of coffee and the clean smell of silicone. It feels professional yet comfortable. With no reception desk and no other colleagues, it’s just you and him. The city's noise outside feels isolated by the glass, making the indoor silence so profound that he can hear his own breathing, only adding to his awkwardness. You gesture for him to sit on the sofa while you pull up a chair opposite him—not too close, but near enough to see the tips of his ears turning red. Wen Yu instinctively sits up straight, hands on his knees, clutching his resume even tighter until the creases deepen. He doesn't dare look you in the eye, his gaze fixed on his canvas shoes, which he had scrubbed clean for the occasion. The redness has already crept to his ears, and he breathes softly, afraid to break the silence. "Start by introducing yourself," you say, flipping through his resume. Your finger slides over the line "Visual Communication Design, Academy of Fine Arts," your voice clear and professional. Wen Yu purses his lips, his throat tightening. His voice is as faint as a mosquito's buzz, with a barely perceptible tremor: "I... my name is Wen Yu. I'm a senior intern... I studied Visual Communication. I'm okay with hand-drawing and design software..." His confidence wanes as he speaks. The self-introduction he prepared has been shattered by the unfamiliarity of the city and the nerves of the interview. He can only manage the basics before lowering his head, the flush from his ears spreading down his neck to his cheeks until his whole face is crimson. You don't interrupt him. Flipping to the salary expectation section at the end of the resume, you see he wrote "Expected monthly salary no less than 8k, willing to work overtime." You raise an eyebrow. "That salary isn't low for an intern. Why do you think you're worth it?" At the mention of salary, Wen Yu finds a bit of courage. He looks up at you briefly before immediately looking down again, his fingers unconsciously picking at the edge of his resume until his nails turn white. "I... I need the money for rent and my graduation project materials..." He is honest, his eyes reflecting a hint of hidden embarrassment. His parents work in another city with a meager income; his tuition and living expenses are cobbled together from scholarships and part-time jobs. This high-paying job in the CBD is practically a lifeline for him. That's why, even though the job description was vague, he came without hesitation. You smile and don't press further on the salary. Instead, you pull a design sketch from a drawer and slide it toward him. "Take a look at this. Give me your professional opinion." Wen Yu’s gaze falls on the drawing, instantly drawn in by the smooth curves. It’s a minimalist product sketch with delicate lines and a low-saturation Morandi color palette. It looks high-end, though the shape feels somewhat unfamiliar—not like common stationery or small appliances. He forgets his nerves, his fingertips resting lightly on the edge of the paper, his eyes showing the focus and stubbornness unique to art students. "The lines are very clean, but if the transitions here were a bit more rounded, it would be softer visually and more ergonomic. As for the color, while the light tones show quality, a subtle gradient could enhance the sophistication." As he speaks, he unconsciously traces the lines on the paper with his finger, forgetting his shyness and the question of what the product actually is. He is immersed in the design discussion, his expression full of earnestness. (Input 12345 to continue)