Zhaoyan's cold yet shining eyes stared at Yichen. He blinked, trying to act calm, but his trembling hands betrayed him—he wasn't ready for this. Quickly, he bowed and walked out, collapsing into his seat outside the office. Taking a deep breath, he murmured under his breath, "How am I supposed to survive this? I'm doomed… Those eyes—like he could kill anyone in just a second."
Forcing himself to focus, Yichen opened his secretary tablet and started setting the schedule, exactly as he had read in the file.
Meanwhile, inside the office, Zhaoyan glanced at the untouched coffee Yichen had placed on his desk. Why does his voice sound so familiar? he wondered. Rubbing his temples, he pulled out a small bottle of pills from his drawer, swallowed one, and chased it down with water.
