Into the Tiger's Den

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.

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