Yuhan sat anxiously on his seat, his eyes darting around the waiting room as more participants filed in. Every new face seemed sharper, more confident, more polished, and the air itself felt heavier with the weight of expectation.
Su Mei led another participant inside and, catching sight of Yuhan, came to stand beside him.
"Are you nervous?" she asked softly, resting her hand on the back of his chair.
Yuhan quickly shook his head, though his bouncing leg betrayed him, tapping restlessly against the floor.
"Just do as you've always done," Su Mei said with a reassuring smile. "Trust me—they'll like you."
Her words should have soothed him, but the tightness in his chest didn't ease.
"It starts in five minutes. I'll soon start calling you in," she added before slipping into the interview room.
Yuhan sucked in a deep breath and gripped his knees, trying to ground himself. His palms were damp, and every second felt like a minute. The low hum of whispered conversations around him, the shuffle of shoes, and the faint ticking of a wall clock seemed to echo in his ears.
The door opened again. Su Mei stepped out with a file in her hand, her expression calm and professional. She glanced at the list, then raised her voice.
"Zi yichen," she called.
A well-dressed man stood, straightening his blazer as he walked into the interview room with steady steps.
Yuhan swallowed hard. His turn was coming.
The participants came out one after the other, some with pale faces, others whispering nervously about the wicked-looking woman inside. Their hushed chatter only deepened the knot in Yuhan's stomach. His palms were clammy, his throat dry—anxiety was ready to consume him whole.
Then he heard it.
"Liang Yuhan," Su Mei called, her voice lilting with a smile.
He exhaled, steadied his bag strap, and rose to his feet. "For Ying Yue," he whispered under his breath, before walking confidently into the room.
The panel of judges sat in a sharp line, papers and portfolios stacked before them. Yuhan lowered himself onto the chair opposite them and stretched a smile across his face, keeping his posture tall despite the tremor in his chest.
One of the judges, a woman with sleek hair and eyes sharp as glass, wore a frown so severe it could cut through stone. She didn't bother to mask her disapproval, her gaze narrowing on him.
Yuhan didn't flinch. Instead, he leaned slightly forward, raised his brows, and returned her glare with a disarmingly wide grin, so warm it bordered on playful.
For the first time, the woman's composure cracked. Her lips twitched, her brows flicked in surprise, and she let out a sharp scoff, almost involuntarily.
Yuhan's smile only brightened. Game on, he thought.
The moment he settled, the questions came like arrows.
The stern woman on the panel leaned forward, her voice sharp and deliberate.
"As the CEO's assistant, what would you do in times of crisis? For instance, if an urgent mistake threatened to damage the company's reputation?"
Yuhan's smile dimmed into focus. He clasped his hands together on his knee and answered steadily, not rushing.
"In crisis, the first mistake people make is panic. I've learned in life, whether it's losing a home, losing family, or watching everything crumble, that calm is the only weapon you can trust. I would assess quickly, keep communication clear, and make sure my decisions give the CEO room to breathe. An assistant who adds to the panic is no assistant at all."
Her eyes narrowed.
"And what if you're under pressure yourself? Everyone claims they can stay calm, but reality is harsher than words."
Yuhan gave a short laugh, low and easy.
"With respect, ma'am, reality is the only teacher I've had. I've worked at markets where losing one sale meant not eating that day. I've carried grief and still had to smile for the world. Pressure is my normal. The only thing harsher than reality," he leaned in slightly, "is running from it."
For the first time, one of the other judges, an older man—nodded almost imperceptibly, his lips tugging upward. The woman's scowl deepened, but Yuhan caught the flicker of approval on the panel's left.
Unfazed, she launched another line of fire.
"You're older than most of the applicants. Do you really think you can keep up with the pace? You're competing with fresh graduates, full of new ideas and energy. Why should we choose you?"
Yuhan inhaled, sat back, and met her gaze without blinking.
"Because wisdom isn't measured in years lived, but in years endured. Fresh ideas are valuable, but so is steadiness. I may not be the youngest here, but I've proven I can adapt, survive, and still stand. If Chen Fashion values loyalty, perseverance, and heart then my age isn't a weakness. It's my strength."
Silence stretched for a beat too long. One judge scribbled something quickly on his notes; another hummed under his breath as if impressed. The woman clicked her pen shut, her expression unreadable.
"Thank you. You may wait outside," she said curtly.
Yuhan rose, bowed politely, and walked out with his smile still intact, though his heart hammered violently against his ribs.