Shen Yuqi should have trusted her instinct.
That was the thought that crossed her mind the moment her screen froze—just for half a second—before refreshing.
Her inbox reloaded.
And there it was.
Sent — 9:03 a.m.
Her stomach dropped.
"No. No, no, no…"
She clicked it immediately, heart racing. The subject line stared back at her, painfully ordinary.
Updated Supplier Brief — Priority Review
She opened the email.
Attached was the document she had not finished reviewing.
The formatting was correct. The data was accurate.
But one section—one small but crucial section—still contained internal notes. Comments meant only for internal review. Questions she had typed to herself late last night, half-exhausted, half-distracted.
Confirm pricing discrepancy?
Check clause 4.2 — potential conflict.
She felt cold all over.
That email had gone out to all senior executives.
Including Li Wei.
Around her, the office hummed as usual. Chairs rolled. Someone laughed near the pantry. A phone rang.
No one knew yet.
Her phone vibrated.
An internal message.
Li Wei: Come to my office.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.
Then she stood.
The walk to the executive floor felt longer than usual. Each step echoed too loudly, her thoughts racing faster than her pace.
She didn't rehearse excuses.
There weren't any.
When she entered, Li Wei was already seated behind his desk, the document open on his tablet. His expression was neutral—not angry, not stern.
That almost made it worse.
"You sent this at nine o'clock," he said, not looking up.
"Yes."
"Was it ready?"
She swallowed. "No."
He looked up then.
Not sharply.
Just directly.
"Explain."
She drew in a steady breath. "I reviewed it late last night. I thought I saved it as a draft. I didn't realize the internal comments were still embedded when I sent it."
A pause.
"That file went to people who don't need to see your questions," he said calmly.
"I know," she replied. "That's my mistake."
Another pause.
She waited.
He didn't raise his voice. Didn't lecture. He simply studied her for a moment, as if assessing something beyond the error itself.
"Can you correct it?" he asked.
"Yes," she said immediately. "I'll send a clean version and clarify that the earlier file was incomplete."
"Do it within ten minutes."
"Yes."
"And Yuqi?"
She looked up.
"Next time, don't work when you're exhausted. Accuracy suffers."
The words weren't unkind.
But they landed.
"I understand," she said quietly.
"Go."
She left his office with her back straight and her chest tight.
At her desk, she moved quickly—efficiently. She removed all comments, rechecked every section twice, renamed the file clearly.
Final Supplier Brief — Clean Version
Before sending it, she paused.
Then she added a brief message:
Please disregard the earlier attachment. The updated document below reflects the finalized version.
She hit send.
Only then did she allow herself to exhale.
Too late.
People had noticed.
"Yuqi," Chen Rui said, leaning over his partition, voice low. "Was that… a recall?"
She nodded once. "Yes."
He winced sympathetically. "Ouch."
Zhang Min glanced over. "Everything okay?"
"Yes," Yuqi said. "Handled."
Lin Xia messaged her almost immediately.
Lin Xia: Did you just send a correction email to the exec list??
Shen Yuqi: Please don't talk about it.
Lin Xia: Too late. Everyone already is.
Yuqi closed her eyes briefly.
Office gossip moved faster than emails ever could.
By lunchtime, the whispers had softened into speculation.
"She sent the wrong file."
"No, I heard it was missing data."
"At least it wasn't confidential."
"Still—rookie mistake."
She ate quietly at her desk, appetite gone. Her phone buzzed again.
This time, a message from Li Wei.
Li Wei: The corrected document is fine.
That was it.
No praise.
No reassurance.
But also—no further reprimand.
She sat back, letting the tension ease just a little.
The afternoon passed slowly. People resumed their routines. The mistake faded from immediate attention, replaced by newer distractions.
Around four, she was called into a small meeting—unexpected.
When she entered, Li Wei was already there with two department heads. She took her seat at the side, notebook ready.
The discussion moved quickly, decisions made efficiently. At one point, Li Wei glanced at her.
"Yuqi," he said, "what was the concern you noted about clause 4.2?"
Her pen paused.
He was referring to the comment she'd accidentally included.
She met his gaze.
"There's a potential conflict with delivery timelines if the supplier adjusts pricing mid-quarter," she said evenly. "I verified it this afternoon. It can be mitigated with an addendum."
One of the department heads raised an eyebrow. "Good catch."
Li Wei nodded. "Prepare the addendum."
"Yes."
The meeting ended.
As people filed out, Shen Yuqi gathered her things. Li Wei remained seated.
"You noticed something important," he said.
She hesitated. "Even though I sent it incorrectly."
"Yes."
He looked at her steadily. "Mistakes happen. What matters is whether there was substance behind them."
Her shoulders relaxed slightly.
"Thank you," she said.
He nodded. "Just be more careful next time."
"I will."
When she returned to her desk, Lin Xia stared at her.
"What?" Yuqi asked.
"You survived," Lin Xia said in awe. "Not only that—he used your comment in the meeting."
Yuqi smiled faintly. "I still won't recommend it as a strategy."
That evening, she left on time.
At home, she told her brother about the mistake in vague terms.
"So you messed up," he summarized.
"Yes."
"And you didn't get fired."
"No."
"Sounds like a win."
She laughed. "That's one way to see it."
Later, lying in bed, Shen Yuqi thought about the day.
The mistake.
The correction.
The calm way Li Wei had handled it.
He hadn't shielded her.
He hadn't humiliated her.
He had simply… treated her like someone capable of improvement.
That mattered.
Because tomorrow, she would go back.
More careful.
More aware.
Still learning.
And that, she realized, was exactly where this story was supposed to be.