Mornings in Jing City always carried a rhythm that left no room for hesitation.
As soon as dawn broke, the city was already in motion. Traffic streamed endlessly across elevated highways, and office buildings lit up one after another, as if someone had pressed a single start button for everything at once.
Qing Ye stood inside the subway car, one hand gripping the overhead strap, her body swaying slightly as the train accelerated. Her eyes were closed, yet her mind was already running through the day's agenda—board materials verification at 9:30 a.m., a video conference at ten, a project review at two in the afternoon, and an internal briefing toward evening.
This was her third day since joining the company.
And also the first day she would, in the truest sense, be "working under Chujiu Huang."
When the elevator stopped on the 28th floor, she was a full forty minutes earlier than usual. The assistant area wasn't yet fully occupied; the air was quiet, broken only by the low hum of the coffee machine.
She set down her bag, turned on her computer, and logged into her email.
One unstarred email—yet forwarded repeatedly—stood out in her inbox.
Sender: Chujiu HuangSubject: Board Materials
No greetings. No extra explanation.The body contained only one short sentence:
I want the final version before ten.
Qing Ye's back straightened instinctively.
She opened the attachment immediately—over a dozen slides, dense with data and complex logic. Almost every page required re-verification. Without hesitation, she stood and headed for the document room.
The sound of the copier echoed sharply through the otherwise quiet corridor.
She cross-checked the original data page by page, corrected annotations, and reworked the layout. Her fingers moved rapidly across the keyboard, the numbers on the screen constantly refreshing.
At 9:58, she clicked "Send."
The moment the email was sent, she leaned back in her chair and let out a quiet breath.
The next second, the internal phone rang.
She paused for a beat, then picked it up at once.
"Come in."
Just two words.
She didn't need to ask who it was.
Qing Ye straightened the hem of her jacket, gathered the documents, and walked toward the president's office. The dark solid-wood door looked unusually steady and imposing. She raised her hand and knocked. After receiving permission, she pushed the door open.
Chujiu Huang stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, his back to her.
Morning light poured in through the glass, outlining his figure—upright, restrained, composed. He didn't turn around immediately, only spoke calmly:
"Put it on the desk."
She did.
As she set the documents down, she noticed how bare his desk was. Aside from a computer, a tablet, and several neatly categorized stacks of files, there was nothing else.
Not even a photograph.
"You changed three data points,"he said suddenly.
It wasn't a question.
Qing Ye's heart tightened, but she didn't panic."There was a discrepancy between the original report and the summary table. I recalculated everything based on the updated figures from Finance last night."
Only then did he turn around.
His gaze settled on her face, lingering slightly longer than before.
"Next time, mark revisions in advance."
"Yes."
"You may go."
She turned and left. Only after the door closed behind her did she realize her palms were slightly damp.
Not because of pressure.
But because, in that brief moment, she had clearly felt—
He had truly been looking at her.
The morning passed in back-to-back meetings.
Qing Ye barely left her workstation. She stayed on standby outside conference rooms—handing out materials, adjusting projections, recording key points. Chujiu Huang's meeting style was exactly as rumored: crisp, decisive, mercilessly efficient.
"Conclusion."
"Key point."
"Redo it."
He rarely raised his voice, yet the entire room would fall silent instantly. Every remark cut precisely to the core of the issue, without a single wasted word.
She sat in the corner, head down taking notes, yet could clearly sense that commanding, all-encompassing control.
It wasn't arrogance.
It was absolute clarity.
At exactly twelve noon, the meeting ended.
Executives filed out one by one, and the assistant area briefly relaxed.
Man Su leaned over and whispered,"First time following President Huang through the whole process—how does it feel?"
Qing Ye thought for a moment, then answered honestly,"Very exhausting. But very clear."
Man Su paused, then laughed."That's… surprisingly President Huang–style."
Qing Ye didn't go out for lunch.
She settled for a simple salad in the break area and used the time to review the afternoon materials again. She knew Chujiu Huang never gave anyone an adjustment period.
At two o'clock, the project review began.
This meeting was longer—and far more tense. When the discussion reached a critical point, the atmosphere in the conference room tightened noticeably.
"Who did the risk assessment for Plan B?"Chujiu Huang asked.
No one answered immediately.
The silence was oppressive.
Qing Ye lowered her head and flipped through the documents. On the third page, she saw a familiar name. She stood up and handed over the file.
"I compiled it. The risk points are explained in detail on page three."
Every gaze in the room turned toward her.
Chujiu Huang took the document and skimmed it quickly.
"Here," he said, tapping the page lightly with his knuckle,"recalculate."
Qing Ye didn't argue."I can revise it now."
"Ten minutes."
She nodded and turned to leave.
At the temporary workstation outside, she rebuilt the model at full speed—recalculating, adjusting ratios. At the ninth minute, she printed the revised plan.
When she reentered the conference room, her heartbeat was steady.
She handed over the document.
Chujiu Huang read it, then closed the file.
"Continue."
The meeting concluded smoothly.
Afterward, Ze Lin walked up to her and said quietly,"That was handled very well just now."
Qing Ye smiled faintly and said nothing.
She knew—it wasn't praise.
It was confirmation.
Working hours had long since passed.
Yet the lights on the 28th floor were still on, one by one.
After finishing the last set of meeting minutes, Qing Ye looked up and noticed the executive office was still lit.
She hesitated, then knocked.
"Come in."
Chujiu Huang was seated at his desk, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up, typing steadily at the screen.
"President Huang, these are today's meeting minutes."
He took them without looking up.
"Tomorrow, seven-thirty. The driver will pick us up."
Qing Ye paused."Do I need to go as well?"
"You're responsible for the materials."
One sentence. No room for discussion.
"Understood."
She turned to leave, but he called out—
"Qing Ye."
It was the first time he had said her name.
She turned back.
"About today's risk assessment," he said,"next time, don't wait for me to ask."
She froze for a fraction of a second, then nodded."I understand."
Walking out of the office, she realized her heartbeat had lost its rhythm.
It wasn't nervousness.
It was the subtle tremor of being acknowledged.
Night had fallen deep.
Back in her apartment, she kicked off her heels and collapsed onto the sofa, feeling completely drained.
But soon, she sat upright again and opened her notebook.
She wrote a third line:
"Today, he remembered my name."
She closed the notebook, leaned back, and stared at the ceiling.
She knew clearly—this wasn't love.
At least, not yet.
It was simply one person, standing at the edge of another's world, finally being seen—just once.
What she didn't know was—
Late that night, when Chujiu Huang closed his computer in the executive office, his gaze lingered on that risk assessment for a long time.
In the bottom right corner of the file, there was a small line of text:
Alternative option, for reference only.
The handwriting was clean and restrained.
Very much like her.