The clock on the wall clicked past 3:18 a.m.
Chen Le Xin's vision blurred for the third time.
She blinked hard, forcing the numbers on her screen back into focus. The rebuild was almost done—final validation scripts running, risk ratios stabilizing. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, trembling slightly.
"Checksum is clean," Le Xin said hoarsely. "One more cross-verification and—"
Her voice cut off.
The room tilted.
Kai Ying looked up instantly. "Chen Le Xin?"
Le Xin tried to answer.
Her mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
The floor rushed up.
"Kai—"
She never finished the word.
Le Xin collapsed.
The sound of her body hitting the carpet was dull, terrifyingly final.
Kai Ying was out of her chair before she realized she'd moved.
"Le Xin!"
She knelt beside her, hands hovering for half a second—hesitating, unsure—then firmly supporting her shoulders.
Le Xin's skin was cold.
Too cold.
Her glasses had slipped crookedly down her nose. Kai Ying removed them carefully, setting them aside with shaking fingers.
"Chen Le Xin," she said sharply. "Wake up."
No response.
Kai Ying's chest tightened painfully.
She pressed two fingers to Le Xin's neck.
A pulse.
Fast. Weak.
Relief hit her so hard she had to steady herself.
"Xiao Lan," Kai Ying snapped into her headset. "I need you now."
"I'm on my way," Xiao Lan replied immediately.
Kai Ying didn't waste time.
She lifted Le Xin—lighter than she should have been—and carried her straight into her private office next door. She laid her carefully on the sofa, loosening her collar, adjusting her position so she could breathe properly.
Her hands didn't stop shaking.
Xiao Lan rushed in moments later. "Senior Manager—"
"Water. Now," Kai Ying ordered. "And call medical standby."
Xiao Lan hesitated. "Should I—"
"She fainted from exhaustion," Kai Ying said, voice tight. "Not illness. Move."
Xiao Lan nodded and disappeared.
Kai Ying crouched again beside the sofa.
Le Xin's lashes fluttered faintly, but she didn't wake.
"You're impossible," Kai Ying murmured under her breath.
The words came out rougher than intended.
She brushed a strand of hair away from Le Xin's forehead—then froze.
She had never allowed herself this kind of closeness.
Never needed to.
"Idiot," Kai Ying whispered, though there was no anger in it.
"You didn't have to push that hard."
But she knew the truth.
Le Xin always did.
Xiao Lan returned quickly, placing water and electrolyte packets on the table.
"She'll need rest," Xiao Lan said softly. "At least a few hours."
Kai Ying nodded. "Clear my schedule. All of it."
"…Senior Manager?"
"I'll finish the remaining validations," Kai Ying said. "Both mine and hers."
Xiao Lan's eyes widened slightly. "That's—"
"I know exactly how much it is," Kai Ying said flatly. "Go."
Xiao Lan nodded. "Understood."
As the door closed, the office fell silent again.
Kai Ying sat at her desk—but her eyes kept drifting back to the sofa.
Le Xin hadn't moved.
Kai Ying turned back to the screens.
Her fingers flew.
She didn't slow down.
Didn't complain.
Didn't delegate.
She worked the way she always did—precise, relentless—but now there was something different underneath it.
Urgency.
Responsibility.
Guilt.
"She shouldn't have been the one to break," Kai Ying muttered.
Hour by hour, she finished it.
Every dependency.
Every audit.
Every safeguard.
She caught the last hidden fault at 6:02 a.m. and sealed it personally.
When the final confirmation flashed green, Kai Ying leaned back and exhaled slowly.
Done.
She stood and walked back to the sofa.
Le Xin stirred faintly.
Kai Ying crouched again. "Chen Le Xin."
Le Xin frowned slightly, eyes opening just a crack. "…Did we… finish?"
Kai Ying's chest tightened.
"Yes," she said quietly. "It's done."
Le Xin's lips curved weakly. "Good."
She tried to sit up.
Kai Ying stopped her instantly, one hand firm on her shoulder. "No."
Le Xin blinked at her, confused. "The board—"
"I'll handle it," Kai Ying said. "You're staying here."
Le Xin frowned. "You don't get to—"
"You fainted," Kai Ying said sharply.
Then, softer, "You scared me."
The words slipped out before she could stop them.
Le Xin froze.
Kai Ying inhaled slowly. "…Rest," she said, regaining control. "That's not a request."
Le Xin stared at her for a long moment.
Then, unexpectedly, she smiled.
Small.
Tired.
"Since when do you carry people," Le Xin murmured.
Kai Ying didn't look away. "Since you stopped standing."
Le Xin closed her eyes again.
This time, willingly.
Kai Ying stayed where she was.
Watching.
Guarding.
For the first time, the war between them was quiet.
And for the first time—
Liu Kai Ying finished someone else's work not because she had to—
—but because she refused to let Chen Le Xin fall alone.
---
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