Chapter 24: Everyone Started Watching Her Work
The change was not immediate.
It crept in quietly, like a shift in temperature you didn't notice until you were already uncomfortable.
Shen Yuqi felt it by midmorning.
Conversations paused when she walked past. Eyes lifted briefly from screens, then looked away. Someone in procurement asked her twice to confirm a detail she'd already sent. Another colleague cc'd her on an email unnecessarily, as if documenting her involvement.
She understood.
After yesterday's mistake, people were watching.
Not unkindly.
Just carefully.
She kept her posture straight and her responses precise. Every email was reread. Every attachment double-checked. She moved through her tasks with deliberate calm, refusing to rush even when time pressed.
At ten-thirty, she was called into Li Wei's office again.
This time, the door was open.
That alone changed the atmosphere.
"Sit," he said, gesturing to the chair across from his desk.
She sat.
He slid a file toward her. "This proposal needs a summary by this afternoon."
She glanced at the cover. It was dense—technical, detailed, the kind of document that swallowed hours.
"Today?" she asked.
"Yes."
She nodded. "Understood."
He studied her for a moment. "Do you think you can handle it?"
The question was neutral.
But it carried weight.
"Yes," she said, meeting his gaze. "I can."
"Good," he replied. "Then do it."
She stood to leave.
"Yuqi."
She paused.
"Don't aim for perfection," he said. "Aim for clarity."
She absorbed that, then nodded. "I will."
Back at her desk, the office buzzed with quiet tension. Chen Rui leaned over again.
"Big assignment?" he whispered.
"Yes."
"From him?" Lin Xia asked from the other side.
"Yes."
They exchanged looks.
"Well," Lin Xia said, "guess you're officially trusted."
Yuqi smiled politely. She didn't feel trusted.
She felt tested.
The hours that followed were relentless. She skimmed, annotated, condensed. She broke down technical language into clean summaries, highlighting risks, flagging strengths.
Her phone buzzed once.
Mom: Are you eating properly?
She smiled faintly and replied later.
By three p.m., her eyes ached. She stood, stretching briefly, then returned to the screen.
At four-thirty, she sent the summary.
She waited.
Five minutes passed.
Ten.
Her inbox refreshed.
Li Wei: Come in.
Her pulse quickened.
In his office, he was reading the summary on his tablet. He scrolled slowly, expression unreadable.
She stood across from him, hands loosely clasped.
"This is concise," he said. "You identified the core issues."
She exhaled silently.
"You also noted a risk the consultants overlooked," he added.
She blinked. "I wasn't sure if it was relevant."
"It is," he said. "We'll adjust the approach."
He looked up at her then.
"You're improving quickly."
The words settled between them.
Not praise.
Not reassurance.
Recognition.
"Thank you," she said.
He nodded. "You can leave early today."
That surprised her.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
She hesitated. "Thank you."
As she stepped out, she caught a few glances from nearby desks. Someone whispered. Someone smiled faintly.
The narrative had shifted.
At home, she met Lin Xia for dinner—something loud, spicy, grounding.
"So," Lin Xia said between bites, "tell me everything."
"There's nothing to tell."
"Liar."
Yuqi laughed. "I messed up, then worked very hard not to mess up again."
Lin Xia raised her glass. "To survival."
"To survival," Yuqi echoed.
That night, as she prepared for bed, she felt tired—but steady.
The pressure hadn't crushed her.
It had clarified something.
She didn't just want to keep up.
She wanted to be good at this.
And tomorrow, she knew, the watching wouldn't stop.
But neither would she.