The mistake was small.
That was the worst part.
Shen Yuqi didn't notice it at first. She only sensed something was off when Li Wei stopped speaking mid-sentence during the morning briefing.
He didn't frown.
He didn't raise his voice.
He simply paused—eyes lowering to the document in his hand.
The room went quiet.
"…This figure," he said at last, tapping the page once, "was this confirmed?"
Yuqi's spine straightened.
"Yes," she answered automatically. Then—half a second later—her mind caught up. Her fingers tightened around the tablet she was holding. "I mean—confirmed as of yesterday afternoon."
Li Wei looked at her.
Not sharply. Not accusingly.
Just steadily.
"Check it again," he said.
She did.
Her breath stalled.
The number was correct yesterday. But overnight, a revised estimate had been uploaded—one she hadn't refreshed before finalizing the print.
The difference wasn't dramatic. Not enough to collapse a project. But enough to matter in front of senior management.
"I—" Her voice dipped. "That's my oversight."
Li Wei closed the file.
"We'll proceed with the corrected version," he said to the room. "Take five."
People moved quickly, chairs scraping softly against the floor. Conversations resumed in low murmurs as the door closed behind them.
Only the two of them remained.
Yuqi stood still.
"I should have checked again this morning," she said. "I usually do. I don't know why I assumed—"
"Don't explain," Li Wei interrupted.
The words were calm, but they landed heavier than if he'd raised his voice.
He walked to the window, hands clasped behind his back. For a moment, he said nothing at all.
That silence stretched.
Yuqi had faced scoldings before. Even disappointment. But this—this quiet, controlled distance—made her chest tighten in a way she didn't expect.
"I know this isn't catastrophic," she said finally, carefully. "But it's still on me."
"Yes," he said.
Just that.
She swallowed.
"I'll correct it immediately. And I'll inform the relevant teams."
"Do that."
He didn't turn around.
She hesitated, then left the office.
The rest of the day passed strangely.
No raised voices. No tension exploding into the open. Yet everything felt… restrained. Conversations were polite but clipped. Instructions were delivered without warmth.
Li Wei still involved her in tasks—but he didn't ask for her opinion.
That absence was louder than anything else.
At lunch, Lin Xia leaned closer, whispering, "Did something happen?"
Yuqi shook her head. "Not really."
Lin Xia studied her. "That's worse."
By mid-afternoon, Yuqi had fixed the issue, notified all departments, and prepared a short addendum. She stood outside Li Wei's office with the updated file, steadying her breath before knocking.
"Come in."
She placed the folder on his desk.
"It's corrected. And I've added a margin note explaining the change."
He glanced at it. Nodded once.
"Good."
That was all.
She waited. For something—anything else.
Nothing came.
That evening, she stayed late without planning to.
She reorganized files that didn't need reorganizing. Double-checked schedules already confirmed. Replied to emails she could have answered the next day.
When she finally left, the office lights were dim.
Outside, the city was alive—cars passing, people laughing, life moving on.
She felt oddly separate from it.
At home, her mother noticed immediately.
"You're quiet today," she said, setting a bowl of soup in front of her.
Yuqi smiled faintly. "Just tired."
Her junior brother glanced up from his phone. "Did your scary boss fire someone?"
"No," Yuqi said quickly. "Nothing like that."
"Then why do you look like you're waiting for judgment day?"
She laughed despite herself. It faded quickly.
That night, she dreamed of numbers slipping through her fingers, pages rewriting themselves no matter how tightly she held them.
The next morning, she arrived early.
Earlier than Li Wei.
She reviewed every document three times. Cross-checked timestamps. Compared versions. When Li Wei walked in, she was already standing.
"Good morning, President Li."
"Good morning."
He paused, then added, "You don't need to come in this early."
"I wanted to," she replied.
He studied her for a moment—really looked at her—then nodded.
The day unfolded differently.
Not warmer. But… steadier.
During a meeting, he asked, "Yuqi, your thoughts?"
She answered. Carefully. Confidently.
He listened.
Later, when a department head questioned her data, Li Wei interjected smoothly.
"That's correct. I reviewed it myself."
Her chest tightened—not with pride, but with relief.
In the late afternoon, as they wrapped up a long discussion, he finally said what he hadn't said the day before.
"Mistakes happen," he said, eyes still on the screen. "What matters is how quickly they're corrected—and whether they repeat."
"They won't," Yuqi said quietly.
He glanced at her.
"I know."
The weight she'd been carrying eased—just a little.
Not erased. Not forgotten.
But acknowledged.
As she returned to her desk, Yuqi understood something clearly for the first time.
Working beside Li Wei wasn't about approval.
It was about responsibility.
And today, she had nearly dropped it.
Tomorrow, she wouldn't.