Morning sunlight spilled across the glass walls of Luminar headquarters, glinting against the steel and chrome. Inside, the entire building hummed with a restless energy—keyboards clattering, phones ringing, conversations tumbling over one another.
Qing Yun had only been with Luminar for a few weeks, yet she had never seen the office like this. Usually, the workspaces were calm, employees focused and efficient. Today, it felt like a storm before landfall.
She carried a stack of documents into the conference room, where Chen Rui was already pacing with two phones pressed to his ears. His hair was slightly messy, his usual easy grin replaced by sharp efficiency.
"No, we can't push the press embargo again," he barked in English, then immediately switched to Mandarin for the other call. "Yes, the livestream link will be tested tonight, stop asking me—"
Qing Yun set the papers down quietly, choosing not to interrupt.
At the head of the table, Shen Qiao tapped on his laptop, face lit by the glow of numbers and graphs. His tone was steady, calm in contrast to Chen Rui's chaos. "Server load test at ninety-eight percent. I want redundancies doubled. No lag during the demo, not even one second."
"Got it!" a junior engineer shouted from the other end of the room.
The door opened, and Gu Ze Yan walked in.
The restless air seemed to still. Conversations dipped, phones lowered. Even Chen Rui paused his double calls for a second to glance over, relief and respect flickering across his face.
Ze Yan wore a charcoal suit today, crisp lines against his tall frame. He didn't need to raise his voice; his presence alone grounded the frenzy. "Update."
Shen Qiao launched into figures, Chen Rui rattled off media lists, department heads gave quick reports. Ze Yan listened without interruption, only nodding once or twice, his sharp gaze catching every detail.
Qing Yun stood quietly at the side, notebook in hand, jotting down the key points.
At last, Shen Qiao closed his laptop. "Everything's on track. Atlas is ready."
Qing Yun's pen stilled. Atlas.
She had heard the name before in passing, but now, for the first time, she saw the weight of it in everyone's eyes. Luminar's new product—the system that would carry them onto the global stage.
Ze Yan leaned back slightly, his gaze sweeping the room. "And the delegation?"
Chen Rui straightened. "Arriving three days before launch. Investors, media, a few foreign government reps. We'll host a tour of Luminar before the unveiling." His eyes darted briefly toward Qing Yun. "We'll need strong English support. Technical plus cultural. It's not just about translation—it's impression."
Several pairs of eyes shifted her way.
Qing Yun stiffened, caught mid-note. "Me?"
Shen Qiao's mouth curved faintly. "You're fluent. You understand Luminar's structure. You're patient under pressure. Who else?"
Chen Rui added quickly, "And you're easy on the eyes. Investors remember faces."
"Chen Rui," Shen Qiao said flatly, not even looking at him.
Chen Rui held up his hands. "I'm being serious."
A ripple of chuckles lightened the air.
Qing Yun's cheeks warmed. She opened her mouth to protest, but Ze Yan spoke first.
"Arrange it." His voice was even, decisive.
Her eyes flew to him. He didn't look at her directly, only flipped the page of the report before him. Yet she caught it—the faint flicker of warmth in his gaze as it passed her way, pride so quiet it almost wasn't there.
Her heart thudded once, hard.
---
By the time the meeting ended, the office was alive with fresh energy, tasks flying in every direction. Qing Yun tried to slip back to her desk, but a hand caught her wrist.
"Jiejie!"
Yi Lan beamed up at her, eyes bright. "Translator duty? This is huge!"
Qing Yun smiled weakly. "It's just—"
"No just," Yi Lan cut in, tugging her toward the elevator. "If you're going to stand in front of foreign clients as Luminar's face, you can't wear this." She gestured at Qing Yun's plain blouse and cardigan.
"It's fine," Qing Yun protested, embarrassed.
"No, it's not." Yi Lan puffed her cheeks in mock sternness. "Come on. Makeover mission. Shen-ge!"
Shen Qiao, passing by with his laptop, raised a brow. "Don't drag me into this."
But Yi Lan already had him by the sleeve. "You said yourself—presentation matters!"
Qing Yun laughed helplessly, caught between them. She allowed herself to be pulled along, Yi Lan chattering about dresses and hair while Shen Qiao muttered something about professionalism not requiring sequins.
---
That afternoon passed in a blur of fittings, fabric, and makeup brushes. Qing Yun tried on a sleek navy dress, hair pinned into a neat twist. When she turned toward the mirror, she almost didn't recognize herself.
Yi Lan clapped her hands. "Perfect! You'll make Luminar proud."
Qing Yun flushed. "It's too much."
Shen Qiao adjusted his glasses, studying her critically. "Not too much. Just enough."
For the first time, Qing Yun wondered if she could really stand in that spotlight. And if she did… would Ze Yan even recognize her?
---
Later, carrying her new outfit carefully folded in a garment bag, Qing Yun stopped by Ze Yan's office to deliver some finalized documents.
He was at his desk, sleeves rolled, pen in hand. He didn't look up at first, focused on the contract before him.
"Mr. Gu," she said softly.
His gaze lifted. For a heartbeat, his eyes flickered, as though startled—then steadied.
"Documents," she murmured, setting them down.
"Mn." He signed one last line, then leaned back, studying her quietly. His eyes lingered longer than usual, tracing her face as if trying to memorize it.
Qing Yun's breath caught. She dropped her gaze quickly, bowing her head. "I'll… be outside."
He didn't stop her, but his voice followed as she reached the door.
"Qing Yun."
She turned, pulse racing.
His expression was unreadable, but his tone was soft. "Do your best. I'll be watching."
Heat rose to her cheeks. She nodded quickly and slipped out.
---
The office gradually emptied as night fell. Employees trickled out in pairs, laughter echoing down the corridors. Shen Qiao finally closed his laptop with a sigh, patting Yi Lan on the head before sending her home.
Qing Yun remained at her desk, lamp casting a small pool of light over the papers. She read through investor profiles, adjusted phrasing in translations, checked cultural notes twice.
In her bag, tucked carefully between her notebooks, the brochure still lay hidden. Guangjing. Six months.
Her hand hovered over the zipper, heart twisting.
She exhaled and pushed it deeper, out of sight.
Across the hall, Ze Yan's office door was still closed, light spilling faintly from beneath it. She glanced once, then returned to her notes, her chest tight with the weight of everything unsaid.