"You haven't seen anything yet."
That's what he said.
Scary, right?
It was rude, impolite, and borderline threatening—but somehow, I felt… grateful. Maybe because for once, he didn't sound like a robot.
We were still walking side by side down the hallway, our hands somehow still intertwined. I didn't even realize it until a few seconds later. His palm was warm, his stride steady, and my brain? Absolute chaos.
Why does it feel like he's been treating me differently lately?
Less like an annoying intern.
More like… a human being?
No. No, Hua, don't go there. He's still the same cold, unreadable robot. Probably just another Liang who enjoys playing games.
The past week had been a literal tornado:
I lost my first love, got engaged to his brother, started a new job, and even managed to get jealous of two different women—for two different men. If that's not emotional whiplash, I don't know what is.
I was so deep in thought that I almost didn't hear the familiar voice calling out from behind us.
"Mr. Liang! I've been looking for you—"
Yichen's secretary, Zhou Yue, appeared from the corner, looking as polished as always.
Except… she suddenly froze mid-sentence. Her eyes had landed on something that made her blink twice.
Oh no.
Our hands.
We were still holding hands.
Why are we still holding hands?!
I jerked mine away like I'd touched fire. My face went hot. Yichen cleared his throat and straightened his suit like it was totally normal to be caught hand-in-hand with his fake fiancée in the middle of the company hallway.
"So…" Zhou Yue's tone turned oddly sharp. "Anyway, I've found a way you can restore your reputation, sir."
Restore his reputation?
Wait—was Yichen trying to fight his way back into the company hierarchy again? I'd heard whispers, but… I right now really hope his ambitions wouldn't drag me down with him.
He looked at me briefly, his smile small but firm. "Good news," he said, like he was already tasting victory.
It wasn't exactly reassuring. There was something in his eyes—something sharp, ambitious. I suddenly felt like a pawn on his chessboard. One he'd move if it helped him win.
"Let's talk about it in private," he told Zhou Yue. Then he turned back to me. "If you'll excuse us, Hua."
And just like that, they both disappeared down the hallway, leaving me standing there with a folder and a very bad feeling.
By the time I returned to my desk, the bad feeling had evolved into full-blown anxiety.
"Ugh, so many pages in that PDF!" I groaned, scrolling endlessly. "How am I supposed to memorize all this in one day?!"
I was halfway through a finance tutorial when my email pinged.
From: Zhou Yue.
Subject: New task – Event Budgeting.
Oh, fantastic.
I opened it. The message was ridiculously long—like a novel written by someone who hated bullet points. But the gist was this:
Yichen was organizing a massive event for a world-renowned engineer who had just joined their company. Apparently, all the biggest tech firms had tried to recruit him, but Zhou Yue somehow convinced him to work with Yichen instead. The event would be a statement—Yichen's big comeback.
And I… lucky me… was in charge of the budgeting and accounting for it.
In one week.
One thousand guests.
"What kind of suicidal project is this?!" I yelled at my computer screen. "Who organizes an event in seven days?!"
Hours passed. Numbers, invoices, tables, forms—my head was spinning. At some point, I found myself massaging my temples and muttering nonsense. That's when the old office phone, which I hadn't even noticed before, suddenly rang.
The sound made me jump. "Wha—? This thing works?"
I hesitated, then picked up.
"H-Hello?"
"In my office. Now."
Yichen's voice was calm. Too calm. And then click—he hung up.
"Wow," I mumbled. "So full of emotion, as always."
I gathered my things and made my way to his office, trying not to panic.
What now? Did I send an email to the wrong person? Did I accidentally budget zero yuan for champagne?
I took a deep breath and knocked.
Knock, knock, knock.
"Come in," he said.
I opened the door—and froze. Zhou Yue was there too.
Great. My nightmare combo.
Yichen didn't even look up at first. "Zhou Yue showed me your work." He turned his monitor around so I could see the spreadsheet. "What is this?"
I blinked. "Um… an Excel table?"
"Wrong answer." His tone was ice. "This is the work of a junior high school student."
What?
I stared at the screen, dumbfounded. "I—what? I spent hours on that!"
He leaned back, arms crossed. "The numbers are wrong."
"They're what?!"
He sighed and started pointing. "We're expecting three thousand guests. Your calculations only cover one thousand."
I nearly fell over. "Three thousand?! That's not what the email said!"
I turned to Zhou Yue, who looked suspiciously smug. "You sent me the email! You said one thousand!"
Her lips curved into a tiny smile. "I never make mistakes. Clearly, you just need more experience."
Oh, I wanted to strangle her. Politely, of course.
Yichen frowned slightly. "Let's check the email, then."
I rushed over before she could do anything shady, leaning toward her laptop. My heart pounded as the email popped open. And there it was—buried all the way at the end, in a tiny paragraph no sane human would scroll to: "Additional two thousand attendees expected."
You've got to be kidding me.
I stared at the screen, then at her. "Who hides important info at the bottom of an email?!"
She smirked. "Accusing others for your own mistake won't fix it."
Her smile was so smug I could practically hear the victory music playing in her head. I clenched my fists. I was two seconds away from launching a stapler.
"She's right," Yichen said suddenly.
Excuse me?!
My jaw dropped. What do you mean, she's right? She—she tricked me!
"Now's not the time for excuses," he replied, his tone cool again. "Fix the numbers. You have a lot to do."
And that was it. No support, no sympathy, just pure corporate betrayal.
I stormed out of the office, fuming.
I hate him!
I hate her!
I hate men!
I threw myself into my chair and screamed into my hands. "I'm not finishing this before tomorrow afternoon!"
Time blurred after that. I worked through lunch, dinner, and my sanity. By 11 p.m., I was running purely on caffeine and rage.
I poured myself yet another cup of coffee—my fifth, maybe sixth—and trudged back to my desk. My hands were shaking from exhaustion. The mug slipped.
Coffee splashed across my shirt.
"Argh!! What kind of bad karma is this?!"
I dabbed it with tissues, but the stain only got worse. I looked like a burnt panda. No way I could keep working like this. I texted my best friend.
Hua: SOS. Bring me a shirt.
Mei: Right now??
Hua: Please. I'll owe you bubble tea.
Luckily, she agreed. Twenty minutes later, we met in the main lobby. The building was mostly empty except for the night guards and a few workaholics upstairs.
"Here," she said, handing me a clean shirt. Then her eyes sparkled. "So… where's your fake fiancé?"
"Shh!" I panicked. "Don't say that out loud! No one can know!"
She laughed. "Okay, okay. I'm going. But you owe me, future Mrs. Liang."
I groaned. "Just go home!"
I hurried back upstairs, clutching the shirt. My office was quiet, lights dim.
I kicked the door shut and started pulling off my stained blouse. The cool air from the AC brushed against my skin. I was halfway through changing, my head stuck inside the shirt, when the door suddenly swung open.
"Hua—"
A voice.
Deep. Familiar.
I froze.
The shirt was still covering my face, trapping my arms. I yanked it off in pure panic—and there he was.
Yichen.
Standing in the doorway.
Staring.
We both froze.
Then I screamed.
His eyes widened. "I—Sorry!" He slammed the door shut so fast I thought the handle might fall off.
Silence.
My face burned so hot it could melt the company logo off the wall.
Why does this always happen to me?!
___
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