The morning did not begin gently.
By the time Shen Yuqi stepped into the office, the atmosphere already felt strained—phones ringing too frequently, footsteps moving faster than usual, voices pitched lower but sharper.
She sensed it immediately.
Li Wei had arrived early.
That alone was enough to change the rhythm of the floor.
She placed her bag down, powered on her computer, and reviewed her schedule. Three meetings. Two external calls. One document marked urgent—revisions she had sent the night before.
At precisely 8:17 a.m., his office door opened.
"Yuqi," he said.
She stood instantly.
"Bring yesterday's proposal. And coffee."
"Yes."
Inside his office, sunlight cut through the glass windows in sharp lines. Papers were stacked higher than usual on his desk—untidy, by his standards.
He took the document from her hands and skimmed silently.
"You changed the timeline," he said.
"Yes. The original delivery window was unrealistic."
He paused. Looked up.
"And?"
"And the suppliers will push back if we insist. This gives us leverage without burning goodwill."
A beat passed.
Then he nodded.
"Good."
That single word settled into her chest more heavily than she expected.
Throughout the morning, he involved her in more than logistics. He asked her to sit in on calls. To take notes—but also to speak when clarification was needed.
At one point, during a conference call with investors, a misunderstanding arose over projected figures.
Li Wei didn't hesitate.
"Yuqi, clarify."
She did.
Calmly. Precisely. Confidently.
When the call ended, the silence lingered.
"You didn't flinch," he said.
"I knew the numbers."
"That's not what I meant."
She met his gaze.
"You trusted me," she said.
"Yes."
The word was quiet. Firm.
Outside, the office noticed.
By lunchtime, whispers followed her movements again—but different this time.
"She's not just assisting."
"He actually listens to her."
"That wasn't a temporary task."
Lin Xia caught up with her near the pantry.
"You survived," she said.
Yuqi smiled faintly. "Barely."
"No," Lin Xia corrected. "You stayed."
That afternoon, pressure arrived unannounced.
An email from headquarters. A request for documentation. Tight deadlines. No room for errors.
Li Wei read it once. Then twice.
"Cancel my last meeting," he said. "We'll handle this internally."
He turned to her.
"I need you focused. No distractions."
She nodded.
For the next three hours, they worked side by side—not close enough to touch, but close enough to feel the presence of the other. The room filled with the soft sounds of typing, pages turning, restrained breaths.
At one point, she caught him watching her—not her hands, not the screen.
Her.
He looked away first.
When the final file was sent, the sky outside had darkened.
"You should go," he said.
"You too," she replied.
He hesitated.
"You did well today."
Not praise. Not reassurance.
Acknowledgment.
On her way out, she passed Qiao Wen's empty desk—already cleared.
That night, at home, Shen Yuqi sat on her bed, phone untouched beside her.
She replayed the day slowly.
The questions. The trust. The way Li Wei had said her name—not as an instruction, but as an anchor.
She understood something now.
Being chosen didn't mean being safe.
It meant being seen.
And that carried weight.