"Could you be a little gentler, Boss?"
The voice cut through the stillness of the meeting room, a space sealed in the low mechanical hum of the air conditioner and the faint bitterness of untouched black coffee cooling in porcelain cups. On the table, the dark surface of the coffee barely trembled, like a small mirror holding captive the chandelier's fractured glow. Above them, crystal lights scattered pale reflections across the long wooden table, glittering like silent shards of frozen rain suspended in the room's chilled air.
A man with long brown hair stood at the far end of the table. Each strand lay neatly behind his shoulders, tracing the crisp line of a perfectly pressed collar. His posture was disciplined, shoulders squared, chin lifted. Yet behind that composure, caution flashed unmistakably in his eyes. He was not joking. He was negotiating, carefully, for the sake of his own survival, as though one wrong word could turn the temperature colder than the air conditioner ever could.
Across from him, Ji Yuxuan sat at the head of the table.
Her slender frame radiated authority without ornament. She wore a fitted black blouse, simple yet refined, the fabric absorbing light rather than reflecting it, making her seem like a shadow shaped from restraint itself. Her black hair fell smoothly past her shoulders, catching the crystal glow above in a soft, silken sheen. Her face was nearly expressionless, controlled to the point of severity, as though emotion were a luxury she had long ago trained herself to abandon. Even the blink of her eyes felt measured.
"What do you mean? Which part of me looks harsh?"
Her voice was clear and level, perfectly articulated, too controlled to be mistaken for warmth. The words were calm, but that very calmness made them feel sharp, like the edge of a blade.
The five people standing before her lowered their heads in unison.
They looked like a row of chastened kittens who had just shattered their owner's most treasured vase. Shoulders drawn inward. Breathing carefully paced. Not daring to move, as though the smallest shift might invite a judgment they could not bear. Even the faint brush of fabric sounded too loud.
Ji Yuxuan's gaze moved across them slowly, deliberately, one by one.
Her eyes were naturally sharp, not sharpened by anger but sculpted by the firmness in her features. Even when she revealed nothing, those beneath her gaze felt examined, measured, weighed, like figures in a report that must be perfect or discarded.
Her slender fingers began tapping lightly against the wooden tabletop.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
The sound was soft, almost delicate, yet in the chilled air it reverberated like a silent countdown before a verdict. Each tap slipped between their breaths, tightening their spines without permission.
She rose from her chair.
The movement was fluid and unhurried, but it shifted the atmosphere instantly. The air seemed to thicken, as if gravity itself had strengthened and pressed down on every shoulder in the room. Her heels touched the floor with a clean, restrained sound, and when she stood fully, the crystal chandelier above looked like a crown too distant to reach.
"I only called you here to discuss something," she said evenly. "Not to become a tiger's meal."
The five exchanged quick glances. Relief almost surfaced, though discipline kept their faces composed. One exhaled a fraction too long. Another swallowed hard, silently.
"New Year is approaching. I intend to hold an annual event for our restaurant."
She paused, letting the words settle into the room's careful silence, like ink spreading through clear water. Even the air conditioner's hum seemed to hesitate.
"What do you think?"
Excitement flared like fireworks igniting behind their ribs.
"That's a great idea, Boss!" Lu Yichen blurted, the earlier tension evaporating into a grin too bright for a room this cold.
"It sounds exciting!" Mo Siyue added, eyes gleaming, already looking as though she wanted to start listing ideas on the spot.
The other three began to speak, but Ji Yuxuan lifted her hand slightly. The gesture was minimal, almost subtle, yet it restored silence at once. Voices stopped mid-sentence as if a switch had been flipped.
"That's enough. It isn't a bad idea."
They lowered their heads again, obedient and composed, as though even their breathing had to follow the rhythm she set.
"In that case, I'll leave the arrangements to Gu Jinhai."
Gu Jinhai, standing at her right, straightened almost imperceptibly. His expression was firm yet warm, steady in a way that softened her severity without challenging it. He was the kind of presence that kept her sharpness from turning into something that cut too deep.
"Understood, Boss."
In the corner of the room, Mo Yuxing, who had been exchanging uncertain glances with Qin Wanqing, finally gathered his courage. He stepped forward half a pace, fingers curling nervously at his sides, knuckles paling.
"Boss, won't you take a vacation during New Year?" he asked carefully.
He swallowed before continuing, his voice dropping, as if laying each word on cotton to make it less dangerous. "I mean, won't you go on a date?"
The atmosphere froze.
The air conditioner kept humming, but it felt suddenly insufficient against the tension that spread like frost across the room. Even the chandelier light seemed sharper, slicing shadows across the tabletop.
The other four stared at him, pale and horrified, as though he had walked onto a battlefield armed with nothing but hope. Someone nearly shut their eyes, bracing for lightning.
Ji Yuxuan's brows knit faintly.
A date.
The word hovered in the air, foreign and distant, as though it belonged to another life she had never lived.
"No."
Crisp. Absolute. A single syllable that left no room for negotiation.
She glanced at the wall clock. It was late. The second hand moved with relentless precision, a small, constant reminder that the night continued even when a heart remained still.
"You may go home now. Thank you for today."
This time, their nods carried unmistakable relief. Shoulders that had been rigid loosened by a fraction.
"Thank you, Boss. See you tomorrow."
One by one, they filed out. Shoes tapped softly against the floor. The door closed gently behind the last of them, sealing the quiet again. The bitter scent of coffee lingered, like something unfinished.
Only Gu Jinhai remained.
"Yuxuan," he asked softly, his tone shifting into that of an old friend rather than a subordinate, "are you really not going home?"
Ji Yuxuan did not answer immediately.
Her gaze drifted to the wide glass window spanning the wall. Outside, Yunzhou shimmered beneath the night sky. Headlights streamed endlessly along the roads below, weaving through the city like restless constellations in motion. Neon signs flickered. Skyscrapers gleamed. The city glittered as though it could conceal every fracture beneath its radiance, as though light alone could erase invisible loneliness.
"I don't have a home," she said quietly. Then, after a measured pause, she added, "If we're being precise, I live alone in an apartment. That can't be called a home."
The words came after a pause so subtle it was almost invisible, yet heavy enough to hang between them. Like a small object dropped into water, sending ripples quietly outward.
Gu Jinhai stepped closer to the window, stopping beside her. Together, they watched the ceaseless current of traffic below, like life itself refusing to wait for anyone.
"You're back in Yunzhou," he said carefully. "What about Yan Zeyu?"
At the name, something shifted in her eyes. Fleeting, nearly imperceptible, yet unmistakable to someone who had known her for years. A thread of tension flashed, then was hidden behind a controlled breath.
"No. And perhaps never."
Her voice returned to its composed flatness, as though she were holding a door shut with her bare hands.
"If we ever meet again, we would merely be two strangers who have never known each other."
Outside, the river of headlights continued forward without hesitation, indifferent and unstoppable, like time itself.
Inside the quiet restaurant, two figures stood side by side, together yet trapped in their own private thoughts. Between them were words left unspoken and distances that could not be measured, only felt.
Yunzhou held too many memories.
And some memories, no matter how deeply buried, never truly fade.