The elevator creaked as it climbed, its aged motor humming a dull chorus that did nothing to calm Lin Yanyan's nerves. Her reflection in the mirrored walls looked back at her, pale and anxious. She adjusted her tote bag for the fifth time in the last two minutes, smoothing her blouse with trembling fingers.

The air inside the lift felt thicker with every floor passed, as though the pressure of ambition and power was slowly crushing the oxygen from her lungs. She had only been interning at HuaLing Corporation for three weeks—just a summer internship to pad her resume before her final year of university. Nothing in her wildest imagination had prepared her for this moment: being asked to deliver a confidential file to the executive suite on the thirty-eighth floor.

It wasn't even supposed to be her task. Ms. Wang in HR had tossed her a weak smile and said, "You're the least intimidating. The assistant up there doesn’t bite. Probably."

So, here she was.

"Just deliver the folder," she whispered to herself. "Don't look around. Don't make eye contact. In and out."

The numbers lit up.

Thirty-six.

Thirty-seven.

Ding.

Thirty-eight.

The doors opened to silence.

The hallway outside was a world apart from the rest of the building. The scent of citrus and faint sandalwood lingered in the air, and soft, recessed lighting cast a golden glow over gleaming white marble floors. Frosted glass walls enclosed private offices, each with minimalistic nameplates and sleek silver accents. It felt less like an office and more like the entrance to a high-end hotel or a gallery where noise was sacrilege.

Yanyan stepped out hesitantly, her sneakers making quiet taps that felt offensively loud. She walked slowly, shoulders squared with the effort of appearing calm. The confidential file was tucked tightly under her arm—a thick folder bound with a red seal and embossed with the golden insignia of Aurelian Technologies. She had only been told it needed to go to the CEO’s executive assistant.

She approached the reception desk stationed just outside the largest glass-walled office.

Behind it sat a woman whose posture was so straight, she might have been trained in classical ballet. Her makeup was artfully done, not a hair out of place in her glossy black bun. She typed with a mechanical efficiency, her focus never wavering.

"Excuse me," Yanyan began timidly. "I was told to deliver this. For the assistant."

The woman didn’t pause. "He’s in a meeting. Leave it."

Yanyan placed the folder on the desk, both hands steady despite the fluttering in her chest. She bowed slightly, more out of habit than necessity, and turned to leave.

Her eyes caught on a movement in the corner of her vision.

One office, at the far end, was not fully frosted. Its glass offered a half-blurred view into a room that looked like a command center: dark wood furniture, a leather-backed chair turned toward a floor-to-ceiling window, and the silhouette of a man standing before it, hands in his pockets.

Yanyan felt her steps falter.

There was something about the stillness of the man inside. He wasn’t moving, but the energy he radiated was unmistakable. Authority, confidence, power. His presence filled the space as if he owned it.

She didn’t know who he was. She didn’t even know what the CEO looked like. She hadn’t cared to research it—after all, she was only here for the summer. And a man like that would never cross paths with someone like her.

Still, she couldn’t help but glance again.

As if sensing her gaze, the man turned.

Not all at once—first his head, then his body, the movement fluid and precise. Like he already knew someone was watching.

Yanyan froze, heart hammering.

Their eyes met.

She couldn't move.

His gaze didn’t flicker, didn’t shift, didn’t blink. It held her in place, curious and impassive, as if trying to place her face. The tension in the air curled around her like smoke. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t surprised. But there was a question in his eyes.

Yanyan lowered her gaze quickly and turned away, forcing herself to walk calmly to the elevator. Her fingers trembled as she pressed the button.

Behind her, silence.

She didn’t look back.

The elevator opened with a soft chime. She stepped in and faced forward, pretending she couldn’t feel his eyes still on her. Her reflection looked back at her, flushed and wide-eyed. She shook her head and whispered, "Stupid. Don’t look next time."

The doors closed.

Back on the twelfth floor—where the interns were tucked away behind budget partitions and clunky office chairs—the world felt louder, warmer, safer. She returned to her cubicle, tucking her tote under the desk and opening her laptop like nothing had happened.

But something had.

For the rest of the day, her mind drifted to that brief moment. To the glint of light on the man’s watch, the way the shadows caught the lines of his face. To that gaze.

She was nobody. Just a summer intern. Her name wouldn’t even be remembered once she left in a few months.

The fluorescent lights in the intern bullpen hummed with a steady, grating buzz. Lin Yanyan blinked at her screen, but the legal documents she had been reviewing blurred together. Her fingers hovered uselessly over the keyboard. She had rephrased the same clause three times and erased it just as often.

It wasn’t like her to be this distracted. She prided herself on focus—on precision. A top-tier law student from the most prestigious legal university in the country, she had fought tooth and nail through a brutal entrance exam to earn her place. Interning at HuaLing Corporation's legal department during her summer break was meant to be another stepping stone. A challenge, yes. But not something that rattled her.

Yet ever since her trip to the thirty-eighth floor, her brain refused to reset.

That man. The way he had turned. The way he had looked at her—as though she wasn’t just another face in a nameless crowd.

Yanyan shook her head and stood, needing air. The pantry was only a few meters away, tucked between the HR department and the copy room. She poured herself a paper cup of cold green tea and leaned against the counter, letting the silence of the afternoon lull her back into a sense of normalcy.

She sipped slowly. "It was nothing. Just a man in an office. I probably imagined it."

“Talking to yourself again?”

The voice made her jump, sloshing tea over the rim of the cup. She turned to find her fellow intern, Jia Rui, grinning at her from the doorway.

“Don't sneak up like that!” she scolded, blotting her blouse with a napkin.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, still grinning. "You okay? You look like someone just asked you to defend a thesis with ten minutes' notice."

Yanyan hesitated. She wasn’t sure she wanted to talk about it. Rui was nice—friendly, talkative—but also a bit of a gossip. "Just tired," she said finally. "Too much legalese."

He stepped closer, eyeing her shirt. "You’re not lying very well. What happened upstairs? I saw Ms. Wang send you up. To the thirty-eighth floor, right? You actually made it back alive. That place is like a different planet."

She swallowed. "It was quiet. That’s all."

Rui’s grin widened. "Did you see him? The CEO?"

Yanyan blinked. "No. Should I have?"

He leaned in like he was about to share a state secret. "Apparently he almost never shows up in public meetings. But they say when he does, it’s like all the department heads stand straighter. Mo Liwei used to be the name on the door. Now it’s Yu Aotian. Rumor is he bought out most of the shares after some kind of internal power shift. Super mysterious, super loaded. No one really knows what he looks like. He’s like a myth."

The name landed with a dull thud in her chest. She didn’t recognize it. And yet—

She forced a polite laugh. "Sounds like office folklore."

“Hey, it’s better than writing memos,” Rui winked. “Come on. Let’s go finish dying slowly at our desks."

They returned to the bullpen, but Yanyan’s thoughts stayed tethered to Rui’s words. Yu Aotian. A name with weight. She hadn’t known it earlier, but the man she’d seen behind the glass didn’t need a name to leave an impression.

Still, she scolded herself for thinking about it. She was an intern. He was—well, whoever he was, he wasn’t someone who needed to remember her face.

Upstairs, on the thirty-eighth floor, Yu Aotian stood by the same glass wall.

The city below him moved like a simulation—cars gliding in neat patterns, people scurrying between buildings like tiny motes of data. His reflection hovered faintly against the glass. The reflection of a man who rarely appeared in photographs, who rarely gave interviews, who operated behind layers of anonymity and iron discipline.

He wasn’t the kind of man who fixated on details.

But the girl...

The corners of his mouth twitched, almost imperceptibly.

He turned away from the window and walked toward his desk. "Secretary Zhang," he said without raising his voice.

The glass door slid open a moment later. "Sir?"

“The intern who delivered the legal file earlier. What was her name?"

Zhang blinked, caught off guard. He flipped through the delivery log on his tablet. "Lin... Lin Yanyan. Summer intern. Legal department. University placement from Huashi Law School."

Yu Aotian nodded. That would be all.

He opened the folder she had delivered, but didn’t look at it. Not immediately.

Lin Yanyan.

He hadn’t seen fear in her eyes—just surprise. Hesitation. Something honest.

And in this building, honesty was rare.

He tapped a finger once on the edge of the folder. Then he opened it, and let the moment pass.

The next morning, Yanyan arrived ten minutes early. Her desk was still quiet, her inbox untouched. She liked it this way—the calm before the daily chaos.

As she powered on her computer, her phone buzzed.

[New Email]

From: HR Department

Subject: Assignment Adjustment

Message:

Ms. Lin,

You are temporarily assigned to assist the Executive Legal Division on the 38th floor. This adjustment will last until further notice. Please report to Secretary Zhang at 9:00 AM.

Regards,Human Resources

Yanyan stared at the screen.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.

The thirty-eighth floor?

Again?

Why?

At exactly 8:58 AM, Lin Yanyan stood before the glass elevator that would carry her back to the thirty-eighth floor of HuaLing Corporation.

She smoothed the hem of her blazer for the fifth time and mentally rehearsed her introduction to Secretary Zhang. This is temporary. Temporary. You're just here to assist. Breathe.

The elevator chimed. She stepped inside. As the doors closed and the numbers began to climb, so did the knots in her stomach.

Ding.

Floor 38.

The corridor was just as immaculate as before. The air smelled faintly of leather and cedarwood, like power and quiet wealth. The marble floors reflected her every step. She walked toward the same reception desk where she had stood days ago, clutching that fateful folder.

Secretary Zhang looked up from his sleek computer, nodding with polite efficiency. “Ms. Lin. Right on time. Follow me.”

She obeyed silently, trying not to stare at the frosted glass walls, where the shadows of important people moved like phantoms. They passed several closed doors until Zhang stopped at a smaller office—still luxurious, but clearly not one of the inner sanctum suites.

“This will be your desk,” he said, gesturing to a spotless workspace furnished with a computer, phone, and neatly arranged folders. “You’ll be assisting the Executive Legal Division directly. Review contracts, summarize disputes, and track incoming legal notices. Any documents marked urgent are to be delivered to me. Understood?”

Yanyan nodded. “Understood.”

Zhang’s expression didn’t change, but he gave her a clipboard with several files. “Start with these. And one more thing—don’t speak to the CEO unless spoken to.”

The door clicked softly behind him, leaving her alone with a stack of contracts and a racing heart.

---

Hours passed. She worked methodically, pulling apart nondisclosure clauses and dispute summaries with surgical precision. It was the kind of work she was good at—clean, logical, and removed from emotion.

By noon, she’d cleared the first round of files. She stretched slightly and stood to take a short walk. The executive floor was hushed, but she could hear the low murmurs of important conversations behind doors.

She returned to her desk and resumed typing.

Until a soft knock startled her.

Secretary Zhang stood at her door. “The CEO requested a copy of the revised arbitration clause in the Matsuda merger documents.”

She blinked. “The Matsuda merger? That wasn’t in the batch I received.”

“It’s in your inbox now,” he said. “He’d like it by 2:00 PM. Delivered in person.”

“In person?” she echoed, her voice slightly higher than she intended.

Zhang gave a curt nod. “Yes. He specifically asked for you.”

She hesitated. “Do I… address him directly?”

Zhang’s eyes narrowed—barely—but enough. “Be respectful. Don’t linger. He’s not one for idle conversation.”

With that, he vanished again.

Yanyan returned to her desk, her heart thudding. She downloaded the document, read the case notes, and edited the clause with the most careful precision she could muster. By 1:56 PM, the document was complete. She printed it, placed it in a folder, and rose from her chair.

Her heels were soft against the marble as she made her way down the corridor to the CEO’s office—the heart of HuaLing’s empire.

The door was shut. She paused. Then knocked once.

“Come in,” came a voice. Deep. Measured.

She stepped inside.

The office was expansive, awash with natural light from floor-to-ceiling windows. The city skyline glittered in the distance, but it was the man standing behind the desk that drew her attention like a magnet.

Yu Aotian.

He wasn’t behind the glass now. He was close. Real. Wearing a dark charcoal suit that molded to his tall frame, his expression unreadable.

“Ms. Lin,” he said, his eyes flicking down to the folder in her hands.

She moved forward, placing it on his desk with both hands. “The revised clause, sir.”

He didn’t reach for it immediately. Instead, his gaze returned to her face. “You're from Huashi Law School.”

She straightened her back. “Yes, sir.”

“Top three in your cohort.”

Her breath caught. “You read my file?”

“I read all files that come across my desk,” he said simply. “But yours stood out.”

She didn’t know how to respond. Her pulse fluttered, unsure if it was flattery or interrogation.

“I see precision in your edits,” he added, opening the folder. “You have an instinct for risk minimization. That’s rare in someone still in school.”

Yanyan swallowed. “Thank you, sir.”

He glanced at the paper, then back at her. “Tell me, why law?”

The question was so sudden, so unorthodox, she blinked. “I—I’ve always been fascinated by structure. The way systems hold people accountable. I like the logic.”

His gaze held hers for a beat longer than necessary. “And yet logic often fails when people lie.”

She tilted her head slightly. “That’s why we prove the truth in court.”

His mouth curved—not quite a smile, but something close. “Good answer.”

She realized, then, that this wasn’t a casual question. It was a test.

“Return to your duties,” he said at last, turning back to his desk. “We’ll speak again.”

Yanyan bowed slightly, retreating as calmly as she could. She closed the door behind her and let out a breath.

---

That night, back in her tiny dorm-style apartment, she couldn’t sleep.

His voice. His eyes. The way he had asked her that question—not like a CEO, but like a man trying to understand her. To decipher her. She should have been flattered. But instead… she felt uneasy.

Was it just a professional curiosity?

Or had something begun, quietly, between them?

She didn’t know. And that unsettled her more than anything.