Unexpected Call
The editorial office that afternoon was filled with the sound of typing and the hum of the air conditioner. Wang Xiaoxi was massaging her temples, trying to fight off the sleepiness that kept attacking. Two hours of sleep last night weren't enough to revive her brain, but deadlines showed no mercy.
Just as she took her third sip of coffee that day, her phone vibrated. An unknown number flashed on the screen. Xiaoxi eyed it suspiciously.
"Who is this again… don't tell me it's another extra task," she muttered as she swiped to answer.
A formal voice came from the other end.
"Good afternoon, Miss Wang Xiaoxi? I'm calling from X Dragon Studio's production team. Mr. Wei requests that you attend a follow-up meeting tomorrow morning to discuss the script revisions you've been working on."
Xiaoxi's heart immediately pounded hard. The cup in her hand nearly slipped.
X Dragon? A follow-up meeting? Mr. Wei?
She hurriedly pressed the phone closer to her ear, her voice stammering.
"E-eh, wait… a meeting? Tomorrow? With whom exactly?"
"With the core team. And most likely, Mr. Wei will attend in person."
The call ended shortly with instructions on location and time. Xiaoxi stared at the phone screen as it dimmed again, her face paling as if she'd just heard a life sentence.
She collapsed into her chair, covering her face with both hands.
"Oh God… don't tell me I'll actually be in the same room as Wei Yu Chen. If he recognizes me as the extinguisher girl, my reputation is finished."
Her inner voice echoed loudly, mingling panic and shame.
But one thing was certain—the path toward an encounter she was never prepared for had begun to take shape.
A Quiet Night, Free Steps
The white-gold Rolex Cosmograph Daytona on Wei Yu Chen's left wrist gleamed. Second by second it spun with perfect precision, marking exactly 9:00 PM. City lights penetrated the penthouse's giant glass wall, reflecting off the watch's surface, embellished by an elegant black ceramic bezel and a contrasting red chronograph hand.
Wei Yu Chen stood for a moment before the large window, gazing at the glittering metropolis below. The night was busy, full of clamor, but from that height everything felt quiet—far from the reporters who constantly pursued him, far from the screams of fans that never gave him space.
He let out a thin breath, then turned toward the walk-in closet the size of a small apartment. Rows of clothes hung neatly—an international fashion collection.
His hand reached for a pair of black Nike Dri-FIT shorts, light and flexible, paired with a white Alexander McQueen T-shirt—simple cut but still exuding class. To top it off, he chose a black Balenciaga hoodie, a Givenchy baseball cap, and a thin black Under Armour mask designed for comfort during exercise.
Finally, he bent down and put on a pair of limited-edition Nike Air Zoom Alphafly NEXT% running shoes—black with neon green accents that glowed faintly under the lights. Those shoes were more than style; they were technology: light, carbon-plated, designed for speed. Every step he would take later would feel steady, as if gliding over asphalt.
Wei Yu Chen looked at his reflection in the large mirror—appearing like an ordinary man about to go for a casual run, yet in truth he was a movie star escaping the spotlight. He smiled faintly, then took his Bang & Olufsen wireless earphones and slipped them into his ears.
When the penthouse's automatic door opened, the cold night wind greeted him. This was when he could breathe freely, run into the dark, and for a moment be himself without the actor label, without the burden of expectations.
His first steps sounded decisive down the private corridor toward the underground lift, heading into a night that belonged only to him.
Shadow in the Dark Park
Wei Yu Chen's footsteps kept a steady rhythm along the pedestrian path circling the city lake. The night was quiet—only insect sounds, the rustle of leaves, and the beat of his steps blending with instrumental music from his earphones. The cold air bit, but that made each exhale feel free.
The night air was cool, a light dew beginning to fall, wetting leaves that glittered beneath the park lights. Wei Yu Chen's footsteps sounded rhythmic on the gravel path, echoing softly in time with his steady heartbeat.
He looked up, seeing the wide-open night sky. Stars twinkled—cold lights trying to pierce the dark. Trees lined the path, their leaves swaying lightly in the breeze.
In that silence, Yu Chen felt clear. All the bustle of work, the roar of public attention, and pressing shadows from the past seemed to recede. In the park's stillness, he found himself—quiet, cold, yet calm.
A long breath left his mouth, leaving a white mist in the air. In his heart, Yu Chen murmured softly: "If only everything were as simple as this night sky—just darkness, stars, and the faithful silence."
However, when he passed through a darker area of the park, his eyes caught something odd. On one wooden bench lay the figure of a woman curled up lazily. In her hand she still clutched a half-empty drink bottle, the glass's shine faintly reflecting the dim streetlight.
Yu Chen slowed his steps and took the earphones out of his ears. His brow furrowed. From that distance he could only see loose hair and a face half-hidden in shadow. For a moment his heart fluttered in a strange way. Was she alive… or…
Curiosity overcame caution. He approached carefully, keeping his distance as if afraid to cause a stir.
But before he could call out, the figure moved. The woman stirred, opened her eyes with a glassy look, and muttered in a heavy voice mixed with a small laugh.
"Corporate slave… that's me. Working until dawn, sleeping two hours, revising scripts like a typewriter… Damn it, what kind of life is this?"
She lifted the bottle, then put it back on her chest, laughing softly to herself. "Hey, if I die tomorrow… tell that bald boss… I want to be buried with my laptop. So even in hell I'll still be a loyal editor…"
Yu Chen fell silent. His usually composed expression now mixed surprise and amusement. He stood a meter from the bench, studying the woman carefully. In that faint glimpse, her facial lines seemed familiar—he couldn't place where.
Xiaoxi, still half-conscious, sighed and ruffled her hair. "I'm tired… but whatever… the world doesn't care anyway…"
Yu Chen finally drew a breath, half disbelieving at the drunk woman's behavior.
Is this really human? Or a drunken angel fallen in the park? he thought, suppressing the small smile that almost appeared.
Drunken Scratch
Yu Chen stood right in front of the bench, leaning forward to check on the drunk woman's condition. Just as he was about to speak, that small hand shot out like a wild reflex—grabbing the collar of his black Balenciaga jacket.
"Eh—!" Yu Chen's voice choked. The sudden tug made his body lurch slightly forward. The fabric at the jacket's edge gave a faint rip—small but clear.
Yu Chen's eyes widened. "…" For a moment, he was truly at a loss for words.
Xiaoxi, still in an alcoholic haze, looked at him with a dull yet spirited gaze as if she'd found an arch-enemy. "HA! Caught you… corporate boss! You think I don't dare resist, huh?!" she said, her voice hoarse mixed with ridiculous laughter.
Yu Chen froze. What on earth was this? The limited-edition jacket from last season—he'd only worn it twice—and now its hem was torn by the hand of a drunken girl.
But when he saw the woman's face more clearly, his awareness jolted. Her facial features, the half-crazy expression, eyes glittering even though half-closed—she was… her. The extinguisher girl who had once made him both puzzled and amused.
Yu Chen paused for a moment, then for some reason the corner of his mouth lifted. A thin smile—a smile that rarely surfaced, especially in front of a stranger.
"So it turns out you're…" he murmured, half in disbelief.
Xiaoxi blinked slowly, still clutching the poor jacket's collar. "You know? We're the same… both crazy. You're the crazy boss who gives never-ending work… and I'm the one killing myself with overtime. Hahaha…"
For the first time in a long while, Yu Chen felt truly powerless. But not because of paparazzi, not because of media pressure—because of a drunken girl who casually tore his Balenciaga and called him "a crazy companion."
He bowed his head slightly, looking at that face longer. Then he smiled. A real smile.
My God… it really turns out there are people drunk and not drunk as crazy as this girl ahhahaha.