The office lobby was a sleek blend of glass, steel, and silence—until he stepped through its doors.
Everything shifted.
Phones were lowered. Bows were given. Heels clicked faster. The receptionist barely managed to stand before he passed her with effortless precision, expression unreadable, presence cold enough to suck the warmth from the glass.
And behind him, a step off beat but just as silent, walked Lin Xie.
She didn't match.
Oversized hoodie, flat gaze, no name tag, no badge.
And yet, no one stopped her.
The two security guards near the entrance hesitated, unsure—until he spoke without turning, voice sharp as command steel:
"She's with me."
That was all it took.
They stepped back.
No one was ever with him.
Especially not like that.
Not a woman. Not a girl who didn't flinch under pressure. Not someone so calm in her stillness it felt more like containment than confidence.
In the elevator, the silence was thick.
Executives stood like statues, posture rigid, eyes twitching toward the strange presence beside their boss. No one spoke. No one breathed too loudly. She stood beside him like a ghost no one dared acknowledge.
By the time they reached the executive floor, the murmurs had started to fester behind glass walls.
"Did you see that?"
"She walked in with him."
"No clearance. No appointment. No introduction."
"Security didn't even blink."
"She's too young to be anything official."
"Maybe not official."
"...Are you saying—"
"Shut up."
"She followed him into the elevator. Didn't even say a word."
"She's not staff."
"Think she's—like, personal?"
"Impossible. He doesn't date."
"Maybe she's going to be."
"Then that's…"
"The future madam?"
There was a beat of stunned silence.
"No way."
Upstairs, Lin Xie watched the corporate battlefield unfold.
She didn't speak. She didn't take notes. She didn't blink often. She just sat quietly, head slightly tilted, fingers folded in her lap, as Shen Rui transformed from silent host into razor-edged war strategist.
He didn't raise his voice.
He didn't curse.
But the effect was the same as a detonated minefield.
One executive presented a pitch with shaky hands.
Shen Rui's eyes barely moved. "Where's your market risk model?"
"I—I thought we didn't need one with the AI simulations—"
"If you thought that, you shouldn't be here."
The folder was closed before the man could finish his sentence.
Two senior managers left the boardroom pale. One muttered something about ulcers. Another didn't return from the restroom.
One junior assistant at the far desk tried not to cry as she retyped her entire email summary, hands trembling over the keyboard.
Lin Xie blinked, watching it all.
It was brutal.
It was clean.
It was fascinating.
She watched numbers get dissected, power shift with the twitch of a jawline, lives changed with one monotone "Approved" or "Rejected." This was another kind of violence. One her instincts recognized.
And Shen Rui was excellent at it.
At one point, a young director tried to push back with a politely worded chart.
It did not go well.
"Sir, if I may—based on these projections—"
"You may not," Shen Rui replied without looking up. "The numbers already prove you didn't understand the brief. Don't compound it by speaking."
The man sat down, spine folding under the pressure.
No one else spoke for ten minutes.
Lin Xie tilted her head the other way.
Fascinating.
People kept glancing at her.
She could hear their thoughts like radio static under the noise.
Who was she?
Why was she allowed to be here?
He didn't even let his own board into confidential discussions—but her?
One woman near the corner printer whispered, "She must be someone special."
Lin Xie looked up.
Met her eyes.
Didn't blink.
Didn't speak.
Just stared.
The woman turned away, fingers fumbling with the paper tray.
At lunch, Shen Rui walked out of his office again, phone in hand. Lin Xie stood automatically and fell in step beside him.
He glanced over. "You planning to follow me everywhere?"
"You said I could stay with you."
"I meant the penthouse."
She shrugged. "Building's the same."
He exhaled. "You're not going to talk to anyone here?"
"I did."
"When?"
"There was a printer. And a woman."
"...Right."
They passed through the office floor again, this time slower.
The whispers had evolved.
"She's definitely living with him."
"I heard she has her own access code."
"He doesn't even look at people—did you see how close she walks?"
"She's not scared of him."
"She smiled at him once. I think."
"She's dangerous."
That last one wasn't said like gossip.
It was said like fact.
Lin Xie smiled again.
Just barely.
If only they knew.
Danger wasn't sitting in the chair.
It was waiting beneath her skin.
She could count every escape route in the building. Knew which assistants carried metal in their bags. Noticed which team leads were faking their stats.
And none of it scared her.
Because this was just business.
And if they ever touched her?
Ever underestimated her?
They'd see what she'd been made for.
But for now—
She let them whisper.
Let them speculate.
Let them imagine she was anything they wanted her to be.
Because in a room full of ambition and wolves and blood-hardened men
She was still the most dangerous creature present.
And no one even knew her name.
She followed him into the executive lounge like she had every right to be there. Shen Rui barely glanced over his shoulder—just enough to confirm she was still behind him, then returned to scrolling through the files on his tablet.
His assistant, a sharp-eyed man in his early thirties named Zhou, was already waiting by the glass table. His suit was crisp. His posture flawless. His arms full of folders, contract drafts, and projections neatly arranged.
He looked up—and paused.
Not at Shen Rui.
At the girl who trailed after him like a shadow.
Again.
Lin Xie didn't greet him. Didn't acknowledge the room or the view from the 70th floor. She simply walked in, paused for three seconds to scan the layout of the space, then dropped into one of the leather chairs across from Zhou like she'd done this a hundred times before.
Zhou's eyes twitched.
"…Boss," Zhou began, carefully neutral, "I've arranged the digital contract with the Cheng Group. Their representatives are ready to finalize within the hour, pending your notes."
"They're pressing for a clause on exclusive delivery access," Shen Rui replied without looking up. "That's a hard no."
"Understood. Should I proceed with—"
"They'll fold if we push back. Their logistics system is barely functional."
Zhou nodded, scribbling notes—then glanced up again at Lin Xie, who hadn't moved.
And then she spoke.
"They won't just fold," Lin Xie said flatly. "They're desperate."
Zhou blinked. "I—excuse me?"
"They've already made two contingency purchases in the last month. Both from companies connected to your subsidiaries. If they break this deal, they burn all three bridges. Their board knows it. Their lawyers know it."
Shen Rui looked up then, brows raised slightly.
Lin Xie continued, voice calm, clinical, like she was reciting machine-read data.
"They'll bluff until you offer a counter with public incentive. Give them visibility—let them pretend it was their win. They'll sign in under twenty-four hours."
Zhou was staring now.
Shen Rui set his tablet down.
"You studied the Cheng Group?"
"I saw the name on your screen."
"When?"
"In the elevator."
Zhou's mouth parted, slowly. "You… memorized their financial history from a few seconds on a screen?"
Lin Xie tilted her head. "Was I not supposed to?"
Shen Rui leaned back slightly in his chair, studying her with a kind of cold amusement. "And if I had given you the file, what would you have done?"
"Same thing," she replied.
"Which is?"
"Win."
There was a long pause.
Zhou looked down at his own notes, then back up at Lin Xie like someone just realized the office printer was secretly a war drone.
Shen Rui let out a slow breath and shook his head, almost smiling.
Almost.
"I told you not to read my files," he muttered.
"You didn't tell me not to remember them."
"…That's not how that works."
She looked unconvinced.
Zhou, still a bit stunned, quickly adjusted his grip on the folders. "I—I'll revise the counteroffer draft. Should I—should I include the PR clause?"
Shen Rui glanced at Lin Xie, then nodded.
"Do it. Give them the illusion of pride. They'll cave."
Zhou left, walking a little too fast.
When the door closed behind him, Lin Xie shifted in her seat and finally looked at him directly. "Your employees are easily startled."
"They're not used to teenage girls discussing hostile takeovers over breakfast."
She frowned. "I didn't eat breakfast."
He blinked. "That… wasn't the point."
"I'm hungry."
"Okay, now it's the point."
She stood. "I want to renegotiate your pantry layout. It's a tactical flaw."
"What?"
"You have too many imported snacks and nothing substantial. I can't keep adapting to sugar."
"…You're complaining about my snack shelf."
"It's a security issue. You should fuel better. Maybe people wouldn't look like collapsing rabbits around you."
He stared at her.
She was already walking to the coffee station.
Somewhere far down the hallway, someone whispered again.
"Who is she?"
Shen Rui ran a hand over his face and muttered, "A problem."
But she'd already opened the cabinets and started taking inventory.