Part One: The Office in Blackout
At 12:30 p.m., the office fell into a brief silence.
Taking advantage of her colleagues going out for lunch, she returned upstairs alone to organize documents. Outside, the sunlight was intense, reflecting off the glass in a blinding white glare. She felt a bit dizzy and just wanted to finish quickly.
Shen Yijin's office door was ajar.
She knocked but heard no response—he must have gone out, too.
The documents needed his approval that day. She hesitated for two seconds before pushing the door open.
The air inside was uncomfortably cold.
He never liked overpowering scents and kept the AC set low.
She set down the documents and suddenly caught a faint scent—like cold metal scraping mingled with the faintest hint of pine.
She turned to leave.
The lights flickered.
Without warning, the power cut out across the entire floor.
The blinding sunlight was swallowed by clouds, plunging the world into a gray haze.
Her breathing quickened in the darkness. Just as she reached for her phone to light up the room, a low voice emerged from behind the desk.
"Who's there?"
She jumped in fright.
The voice was hoarse and tinged with a throat-clearing sound; it carried an unfamiliar tremor.
"S-Shen Manager? It's me."
A moment of silence passed.
Then, a shadow slowly rose—the familiar tall silhouette, but with an unusual aura.
In the dim light, she could only make out his profile.
"Why are you here?" he asked in a lower-than-usual voice.
"I...I was just dropping off some documents. I didn't expect the power to go out."
He didn't respond. He only slowly turned away, his golden-red irises flickering in the gloom.
For a moment, she doubted her own eyes. That wasn't the color of a normal person's eyes.
"Manager, your eyes—"
"Don't look," he said hoarsely, turning his back.
His shoulders trembled slightly as if he were suppressing something.
She froze, unsure whether to retreat or leave.
Then she heard it—the rustle of fabric and a faint, nearly inaudible whimper.
That sound wasn't human.
Instinctively, she took a step forward, her fingers brushing the edge of the desk as she sought to confirm whether he was hurt.
In the next instant, she touched something soft and slightly warm.
Her breath caught.
It wasn't fabric.
It was fur—snow white and fine, trembling slightly beneath her fingertips.
She jerked her head up.
The power flickered back on.
In the strobing light, she saw the white tail behind him slowly vanish.
Shen Yizhen turned around again, his expression cold.
"Get out."
"I—"
"You saw nothing." His voice was dangerously low. "Now, get out."
Stunned by his chill demeanor, she stumbled backward toward the door.
Just before it closed, she caught a glimpse of his lowered lashes and the lingering golden-red hue in his eyes.
It wasn't an illusion.
It wasn't.
Part Two: The Fox's Instinct
After that day, she avoided direct contact with him for a full week.
All documents were relayed through her secretary.
She expected him to handle matters with his usual cold detachment. Yet, on the eighth day, she received his message:
"Seven p.m. Stay."
Concise, bordering on an order.
She intended to refuse, but as her fingers hovered over the keyboard, an inexplicable flutter seized her heart.
It wasn't fear, but some nameless pull.
At seven that evening, she returned to the deserted floor.
He was already waiting in his office.
"Come in."
The light was soft and quiet. He looked as he always did—calm and composed.
But as she approached, she caught that familiar scent—a blend of wildness and the cold night air.
"You shouldn't have seen what happened that day," he said in a low voice.
"But it's the truth," she countered. "What exactly are you?"
He remained silent for a long moment, then a faint smile touched his lips. "You want to know?"
"I should know."
He laughed with a hint of self-mockery. "You wouldn't want to know. It would frighten you."
"I'm not afraid," she said firmly.
He suddenly rose and walked toward her.
One step, two steps—until she could almost hear the rhythm of his breath.
"You don't know what you're challenging."
"And you?" she countered. "What did these weeks of testing mean?"
He stopped. His crimson-gold eyes flickered again, and his voice was nearly a whisper. "I was testing myself."
The scent in the air thickened once more.
The fox's instincts stirred faintly within his body.
He lowered his head and whispered, "You're too close."
"You asked me to stay," she murmured softly.
His throat moved as if he were suppressing something.
"You should leave."
"What if I don't?"
Those words ignited a spark.
Shen Yizhen's fingertips lightly brushed the back of her hand. The movement was so subtle that it was almost silent.
In that instant, she felt something warm and breathy gently sweep across her skin—not a touch, but a scent.
He finally closed his eyes, his voice hoarse. "Any closer, and I won't be able to control myself."
Her breath caught.
He took a step back, as if snatching back his last shred of sanity.
"Go."
This time, his voice was almost a plea.
She stared at him blankly. Beneath his perfect, composed exterior, a struggling beast lurked.
In the end, she turned and walked away.
The moment the door closed, he drew a deep breath.
The fox's scent lingered in the air like an unfinished seduction.
He knew this was no longer a test, nor something reason could suppress.
It was the fox's instinct, and it was the first time he'd ever felt the urge to lose control for someone.