Shen Yuqi realized something was wrong when the office lights dimmed.
Not off—just dimmed enough to remind her that time had moved without asking permission.
She glanced at the clock on her screen.
9:12 p.m.
"…Seriously?"
She leaned back in her chair, fingers pressing briefly into her temples. The office around her was nearly empty now. Most desks were dark, monitors shut down, chairs pushed in neatly. Only a handful of lights remained on—the kind reserved for people who had lost track of the day or had no choice but to stay.
She was supposed to leave hours ago.
Her phone vibrated.
Lin Xia: Are you alive or has corporate life swallowed you whole?
Yuqi sighed and typed back.
Shen Yuqi: Barely breathing. Still at the office.
Lin Xia: Again?? What kind of assistant job is this?
Yuqi didn't answer immediately.
Because she was asking herself the same question.
It had started around 4 p.m.
A meeting that ran longer than expected. A document that needed revisions—then revisions of the revisions. A schedule conflict that somehow became her problem to solve.
And then—
"Yuqi."
She looked up.
Li Wei stood a few steps away from her desk, jacket off, sleeves rolled to his forearms. His expression was calm, unreadable, but his presence alone made the late hour feel official.
"You're still working," he said.
"Yes," she replied automatically. Then, after a beat, "I was about to finish."
He glanced at her screen.
"You're reviewing the supplier contracts?"
She straightened slightly. "Yes. The formatting was inconsistent, so I reorganized them by priority."
He studied the document quietly.
The silence stretched.
Not casual this time.
Evaluative.
"You didn't need to do all of this," he said at last.
Her fingers paused above the keyboard. "You said accuracy mattered."
He met her gaze. "It does. But so does efficiency."
She nodded. "I understand."
Another pause.
"You're learning quickly," he said.
It wasn't praise.
It was observation.
She closed the file and shut down her computer. "I'll finish the rest tomorrow."
He didn't stop her.
"Go home," he said. "You're not paid to stay this late."
That made her laugh—soft, surprised.
"Noted," she said.
Outside the building, the night air was cool. The city looked different at this hour—quieter, more honest somehow. She checked her phone as she walked toward the bus stop.
Three missed calls from her mother.
She groaned.
At home, the lights were still on.
"You're late," her mother said immediately.
"I know."
Her younger brother glanced up from the couch. "Corporate slavery?"
"Something like that."
She dropped her bag, kicked off her shoes, and collapsed into the chair at the dining table.
"You didn't eat," her mother said accusingly.
"I did," Yuqi lied.
Her brother snorted. "She definitely didn't."
Later that night, curled on her bed, Yuqi stared at the ceiling.
Her phone buzzed again.
Lin Xia: Drinks tomorrow. No excuses.
She typed back:
Shen Yuqi: Only if I survive work.
As she set her phone down, one thought lingered—quiet, unwelcome, persistent.
She hadn't stayed late because she was told to.
She stayed because she wanted to do it right.
And that realization unsettled her more than the workload ever had.