Ye Jun
The applause died down slowly, like it was embarrassing to stop, and then the main lights came back up just enough that everyone started milling around like ants at a picnic nobody asked for. The celebration hall was basically the company's fancy basement, long tables shoved against the walls, trays of sandwiches, a lot of food and drinks and an open bar that was already doing numbers because free booze plus awkward networking equals chaos. Music thumped low, some generic corporate playlist that tried to be chill but sounded like elevator jazz.
