The first thing Liu Xin did when she got home was throw herself face-down on the couch.
The second thing she did was groan into the cushion, "I need hazard pay."
The cushion, being wholly unsympathetic, gave no response.
After everything that had happened that week—Wu jian's ex-fianceè resurfacing in a white power suit making her work more frustrating, Wu Jian's frosty silence during meetings, the accidental revelation of his trauma over the color red—her brain was fried. Burnt toast. Overcooked noodles. Choose any metaphor, it applied.
And tomorrow, of course, she had to visit the gala venue with him.
Just the two of them. No Qiao An, no buffer, no escape plan.
She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling, arms flopped out like a crime scene chalk outline.
"Why am I nervous?" she muttered. "He's just a CEO. A brooding, emotionally constipated CEO with ridiculously good bone structure—NO, bad brain! No compliments!"
Her phone buzzed on the coffee table. A message from his assistant.
[Venue reconfirmed for tomorrow 9 AM. Wu Jian's driver will pick you up. Don't be late. He notices.]
Liu Xin tossed her phone onto the carpet and groaned again.
Her mother comes out of the kitchen with her favourite dish Sunny omelette.her mother puts it on the table "Why did you always puffed off your cheeks like u didn't work their but fight!" she says pinching her cheeks.
"Ahh!...It hurts mom!" she says groaning.
"And yes there is always a new fight each day" she says taking a bite of omelette "Only this can save me" she says chewing and hugging her mother.
---
The next morning, she stood outside her apartment in a crisp beige blazer and matching heels, clutching her tote bag like a talisman. The moment the sleek black car pulled up, she straightened like a soldier.
The window rolled down. Wu Jian, sharp in charcoal gray, glanced at her once. "Get in."
So warm. So welcoming.
She slid in, carefully avoiding eye contact. "Morning."
He gave a curt nod and returned to his tablet. Silence reigned for a few minutes. Liu Xin busied herself watching the buildings go by and definitely not sneaking glances at his annoyingly perfect profile.
She noticed, out of the corner of her eye, the way his fingers curled slightly whenever they passed a bus with red advertisements on it. How his jaw tensed, just barely, at a passing pedestrian in a crimson hoodie.
When the car finally pulled up to the venue, she opened her door—and paused.
The entrance carpet was red.
Bright. Ceremonial. Very bad for him.
She sucked in a breath, turned toward him, and casually held out her phone. "Oh, before we go in—can I show you the layout again? The client made some tweaks."
He looked up, puzzled, but took the phone.
She stepped sideways, quickly signaling the driver behind his back. "Do you have any other entrance?"
The driver blinked, then nodded and pointed to a side path.
By the time Wu Jian looked up from the screen, she was already guiding him toward a neutral side gate.
No red.
No explanation.
No fuss.
Just… normal.
---
Inside, the venue was an elegant ballroom with floor-length mirrors, vintage chandeliers, and staff setting up folding chairs like a synchronized swimming team.
Wu Jian walked through with his usual air of being too busy to exist. Liu Xin, however, was in her element—gesturing toward the stage with practiced confidence, talking about lighting placements, and scolding the florist over the phone for suggesting baby's breath again. ("This is a luxury gala, not your aunt's backyard wedding!")
Wu Jian trailed behind, observing. For once, he didn't interrupt her mid-sentence. He didn't correct. He didn't dismiss.
He just… watched.
And when they paused near the dance floor, he said, quietly, "You did your research."
Liu Xin blinked. "Huh?"
"This layout. The way you've arranged the tables to face both the stage and the auction preview. Efficient."
Was that… praise?
From Wu Jian?
She tried to play it cool. "I mean, that's my job. I don't just wear heels and chase florists around."
"You also reroute me away from red carpets without making a scene."
Her breath caught.
"I noticed," he said simply.
Liu Xin looked down at her clipboard. "You shouldn't have to notice." brushing her hair too dramatically.
They stood there, surrounded by the muted buzz of staff and soft jazz playing through the speakers. Something unspoken passed between them—fragile, awkward, almost tender.
Then Wu Jian broke the moment.
"You're unusually quiet today."
"I'm saving my energy in case I have to wrestle another centerpiece out of your ex-fiancée's hands."
His lip twitched. Almost a smile. "I can have her reassigned."
"You say that like I won't get suspicious when she turns up hosting a charity concert in Greenland."
"I'd never send anyone to Greenland. That's inhumane."
She snorted. "Wow. Your standards of mercy are truly unmatched."
He glanced at her, the smallest flicker of warmth in his usually unreadable eyes. "You surprise me, Liu Xin."
"Oh no," she said dryly. "Did I ruin your very organized expectations of me?"
"Yes," he said.
Pause.
"And I don't mind it."
Now it was her turn to stare.
Wu Jian turned, already walking ahead like he hadn't just casually flipped her entire brain upside-down.
Liu Xin followed, one hand pressing over her chest like she was checking if her heart had skipped a beat—or performed a whole gymnastics routine.
Things were changing.
Things that weren't being said.
But they were being felt.
And that, terrifyingly, was worse.
To be Continued--