The rainy season in Jing City always arrived without warning.
The sky seemed to be covered with a thick gray cloth, rain falling in fine, cold threads, lingering from morning until dusk. Pedestrians hurried along the streets beneath umbrellas of every color, like drifting flowers moving against a muted backdrop. Between them lay an invisible curtain of water, separating one figure from another.
Qing Ye stood beneath the office building, holding a folder against her chest. The fine rain, carried by the wind, slipped into her collar. The chill crept along her collarbone and climbed up her shoulders, making her shiver slightly. She lowered her head and glanced at her phone.
17:42.Eighteen minutes earlier than the agreed time.
Today was her first official day at work.Her position: Executive Assistant to the President.
And the person she was about to meet was Chujiu Huang.
Before the interview, she had searched his name countless times online. Chujiu Huang—one of the most prominent young figures in Jing City's business world. Not yet thirty, yet already in control of Chujiu Group, a corporation valued at tens of billions. Media descriptions of him were strikingly consistent: cold, sharp, distant. On the covers of financial magazines, he always wore dark suits, his eyes keen and restrained, his expression unreadable.
Some said he was a wolf in the business world, sharp-nosed and decisive.Others said he was like an iceberg—anyone who drew close would be frozen by the cold.
Qing Ye was not intimidated by such evaluations.If anything, she found that kind of man faintly compelling. There was a mystery about him—one that tempted people to approach, even while knowing better.
The elevator chimed softly as it reached the top floor.
She stepped inside. The mirror-polished steel reflected her face—light makeup, a simple blouse and skirt, her hair tied into a low ponytail. She was not striking, but she was neat and composed. Like a cup of warm water: quiet, unassuming, yet steady.
She pressed the button for 28.The numbers climbed slowly, like time counting down.
The corridor on the twenty-eighth floor was carpeted in pale gray. Her footsteps made no sound at all. The silence was so complete she could hear her own breathing, even the faint rhythm of her heart beating in her chest.
The receptionist looked up and smiled politely."You must be Assistant Ye. President Huang is in the meeting room."
Qing Ye nodded and walked to the door, knocking lightly twice.
"Come in."
The voice came from inside—low, firm, edged with unmistakable authority. It cut through the air like a cold wind, leaving no room for hesitation.
She pushed the door open and saw him at once.
Chujiu Huang sat at the far end of the long conference table. One hand supported his chin; the other moved across a tablet screen. He wore a dark gray suit, his tie perfectly aligned. His features were sharp, restrained, like a blade still in its sheath.
At the sound of the door opening, he lifted his gaze. His eyes rested on her for no more than two seconds before moving away, as though she were merely another object in the room.
"I'm Qing Ye," she said, handing over the folder. "Starting today, I'll be serving as your assistant."
He accepted it, flipped through a few pages, and said flatly,"Don't make me say things twice."
Qing Ye's heart skipped a beat.
Not because of the reprimand—but because of his voice.
It was low and clean, like the deep notes of a piano heard on a rainy night, carrying a faint metallic edge. It made her want to listen longer, even as she knew she shouldn't.
She smiled lightly."Yes, President Huang."
After the meeting, the rain grew heavier.
Qing Ye stood downstairs waiting for a ride when she saw Chujiu Huang emerge from the building. He held a black umbrella, walking briskly, two senior managers following behind him. His back was straight and solitary, like a tree standing alone in the rain—unmoved by the wind, growing according to its own rhythm.
For a moment, she almost stepped forward to help him with the umbrella.
But her feet remained rooted to the ground.
In the end, she only stood there, watching as his figure faded into the rain.
The sound of rain seemed to swell around her, like countless hushed whispers. She suddenly felt as though there was an invisible membrane between herself and the city. Chujiu Huang stood on the other side of it—close enough to see, yet impossible to reach.
Back in her rented apartment, Qing Ye showered and sat on the edge of her bed. She opened her notebook and wrote the first line:
"I saw him today. He's cold, but I don't dislike him."
Outside the window, the rain continued to fall, as though playing the opening movement of a prelude with no ending.
She did not know then that this single glance would mark the beginning of many years of unspoken affection.
Qing Ye's apartment was located in an old residential building near Jing City's East Third Ring area. Half of the stairwell lights were perpetually broken, making rainy days especially dim and damp. Carrying her bag up to the third floor, she caught the faint scent of tea drifting from inside—Pu'er tea she had brewed before leaving that morning, intending to drink it that evening, only to forget.
She opened the door.
Warm yellow light spilled across the wooden floor. On the coffee table lay several books on workplace skills and a thick volume titled Chujiu Group: Five-Year Development Plan. She had bought it specifically for the interview. Though she had not finished reading it, simply turning its pages conveyed the weight of the company.
She changed out of her damp coat, slipped into soft loungewear, and sat at the small desk by the window. Raindrops tapped against the glass, crisp and steady, as though someone outside were speaking in a low voice.
She recalled her reflection in the elevator mirror earlier—clean, ordinary, not someone who would stand out at first glance. Yet she felt no sense of inferiority. She knew she had earned this position not through appearance, but through patience and attention to detail.
Chujiu Huang's secretary had warned her over the phone:"President Huang values organization. The assistant's job is demanding and exhausting. You should be mentally prepared."
At the time, she had answered without hesitation:"I'm not afraid of hard work. As long as I can do the job well."
Now, sitting alone in the rain-filled night, a trace of unease crept in. She did not know whether she could truly find her footing in this man's world.
She opened her phone and browsed the company's internal forum. Many anonymous posts discussed Chujiu Huang:
"President Huang worked until dawn again today. The entire twenty-eighth floor was empty except for him.""He never attends social dinners, even with partners.""He rarely smiles—but when he does, the atmosphere in the meeting room changes completely."
These fragments made his image more dimensional. His coldness was not emptiness—it was focus, discipline, restraint.
She closed the forum and picked up the Five-Year Development Plan, turning to the page marked with a bookmark. Printed there was something Chujiu Huang had once said at an internal meeting:
"What we are doing is not business—it is structure. Structure determines outcome."
Qing Ye stared at the sentence, something stirring quietly inside her. She thought that perhaps, working alongside someone like this, she might change as well.
Outside, the rain blurred the world into a watercolor wash. She felt as though she and Chujiu Huang were two distant points within it—visible to one another, yet unable to touch.
The next morning, Qing Ye arrived half an hour early.
The air on the twenty-eighth floor carried the scent of freshly brewed coffee. The receptionist greeted her with a practiced smile."Good morning, Assistant Ye. President Huang has a video conference this morning. You may familiarize yourself with the office first."
She followed her to the president's office at the end of the corridor. The door was made of dark wood, fitted with a small brass nameplate:
Chujiu Huang
The door was slightly ajar. Inside, the room was empty, but the desk was impeccably organized. The computer screen glowed with an unread email.
Standing there, she felt as though she had stepped into someone else's private domain.
Footsteps sounded from the far end of the corridor.
She stepped aside instinctively as a young man in a white shirt approached—it was Ze Lin, Chujiu Huang's secretary.
"Good morning, Assistant Ye," he said with a smile. "President Huang asked me to tell you that today's schedule has been sent to your email. Please prepare in advance."
She accepted the tablet he handed her. The screen was filled with tightly packed meetings.
"Understood," she said.
Ze Lin hesitated for a moment, then added, "President Huang dislikes lateness—and dislikes insufficient preparation. Be careful."
Her heart tightened slightly, but her expression remained calm."I understand."
Her workstation was located in the outer assistant area, equipped with dual monitors and a desk phone. The colleague beside her, Man Su, smiled warmly and began chatting about the company.
"President Huang…" Man Su lowered her voice. "He doesn't talk much and always looks stern in meetings. But his standards are very high. You'll learn a lot working with him."
Throughout the morning, Qing Ye prepared materials and recorded meeting notes. From time to time, Chujiu Huang's voice drifted out of the conference room—low, concise, stripped of excess. Each word demanded attention.
They did not speak directly, yet his presence permeated the entire floor, like air itself.
At lunch, Qing Ye and Man Su ate together by the restaurant's floor-to-ceiling windows. Outside, the city remained shrouded in gray rain.
"You know," Man Su said, "President Huang studied abroad. When he returned, he took over the company. He hardly socializes—his life is basically work and home."
Qing Ye felt a flicker of curiosity."Does he have any hobbies?"
Man Su thought for a moment."Chess, I think. Once I saw him in the lounge, setting up a chessboard and playing alone."
Qing Ye smiled. That image added a faint warmth to his otherwise austere silhouette.
That afternoon, she ran into Ze Lin in the elevator.
"President Huang has a dinner engagement tonight—you won't need to attend," he said. "But tomorrow's schedule is tight. You'd better review the materials again tonight."
"Alright," she replied.
When the elevator doors opened, she stepped out into the rain. Across the street, Chujiu Huang's car was waiting. He held a black umbrella and walked quickly toward it.
This time, she did not approach.
She simply stood there, watching his retreating figure.
The rain grew louder around her. She had the strange feeling that this silhouette would remain in her memory for a long time.
Back in her apartment, Qing Ye opened her notebook once more and wrote the second line:
"He's lonelier than I imagined."
Outside, the rain continued to fall—quiet, unbroken—like an endless prelude.
She did not yet know that this, too, was only the beginning.