FRIDAY. THE FINAL DAY OF ONBOARDING.
The Great Hall was quieter than it had any right to be.
Mei sat straight in the second row, legs crossed, one hand resting lightly on her leather-bound notebook. Her blazer was tailored and sharp; her charcoal skirt was short and precise, a hint of lace visible only when she shifted. It was deliberate. With Mei, everything was always deliberate.
At the front, Ms. Lin from HR moved through slides that no one was really listening to anymore.
"...final placements have been determined based on overall performance, academic record, and internal alignment..."
A pause. This was the only part that mattered.
Mei didn't move. She didn't fidget or look around like Leo, who was currently vibrating with nerves beside her. She already knew where she belonged. She had outworked everyone in this room for five days straight.
Then, the synchronized chiming of twenty work phones echoed through the hall.
The emails had landed. Names. Teams.
Mei swiped her screen. A beat. Then:
Placement: Mei Lin – Team Yan Jing
It landed clean. No hesitation. No doubt. Exactly where she wanted to be.
She didn't react immediately. She just blinked once, slow, controlled, and then her lips curved into a small, contained smile. Around her, the room shifted violently. Someone exhaled sharply; someone else muttered under their breath. Shaolin, sitting three seats away, gripped her tablet so hard her knuckles turned white.
Mei leaned back slightly, crossing her arms. Of course she got it.
At the front, Ms. Lin continued as if she hadn't just changed twenty lives. "Each team head will reach out with further instructions by Monday morning. Dismissed."
Mei wasn't listening. Yan Jing. The name alone carried the weight of the entire firm. The buildings, the international awards, the impossible standards. Only two recruits got in. And she was the first.
Her fingers tapped once against her arm, controlled excitement, nothing more.
****
UPSTAIRS. THE EXECUTIVE FLOOR.
Yan Jing didn't usually look at the recruitment lists. He never needed to. HR handled placements based on his specific technical requirements; he merely accepted the results. It was efficient. Clean.
His assistant, Chen, stood across from the sprawling mahogany desk, tablet in hand. "The new recruits have been assigned, Mr. Yan. Your team has two this year."
Jing didn't look up immediately. He finished the line he was sketching on a blueprint, his pen moving with precise, practiced ease. "Send the digital file to my mail," he said.
A beat. "As always, you don't want the details?" Chen asked.
"Yes."
Chen hesitated, then placed the tablet directly on his desk.
Jing picked it up lazily, more out of habit than interest. He scrolled without much focus. The first name was irrelevant, a high-scoring structural grad from Tsinghua.
Then, his finger stopped.
Mei Lin.
The name sat there for a second longer than it should have. His gaze shifted slightly to the side panel. Profile. Photo. He tapped the image.
There she was. Those same eyes.
And suddenly, he was back in the coffee shop.
"Life or death, actually."
Jing leaned back slowly in his ergonomic chair. A quiet exhale escaped him, almost a laugh, but not quite. He looked at the screen again, slower this time. Top of her class. Multiple awards. Field work with senior professors. Impressive.
Exactly the kind of candidate HR would place with him.
His gaze lingered on the photo a second too long. Then it dropped.
He set the tablet down and picked up his pen, then stopped halfway. His jaw shifted, just slightly. He didn't mix work and pleasure. He didn't complicate his own systems, and she, with that skirt and that way of standing like she knew exactly what people saw and didn't care, was a complication.
Trouble. Not dramatic, not dangerous, but... inconvenient.
Jing clicked his pen once. Then again. He set it down with a definitive thud.
"Reassign her."
Chen blinked, startled. "Sorry?"
"Mei Lin." Jing nodded toward the tablet. "Reassign her."
A heavy pause filled the office. "That's... unusual," Chen said carefully. "She's the top overall candidate in the cohort. Her metrics are perfect for your workflow."
"I can see that."
"And she was placed with you based on the CEO's personal sign-off on the top tier—"
"I know how placement works, Chen."
Another pause. Chen adjusted his glasses. "To where?"
Jing leaned back, thinking for half a second. A vision of a very different office came to mind, one filled with ink brushes, heritage blueprints, and a woman who suffered no fools.
"Madame Shen's team."
Chen's brows pulled together. "The Heritage Wing? Madame Shen only takes one student every three years. And she's currently in Europe."
"She'll take her."
"That's not guaranteed, sir. Madame Shen is... particular."
Jing's mouth curved—slow, amused, and entirely arrogant. "It is guaranteed."
Chen hesitated. "Can I ask why?"
Jing didn't answer immediately. He picked up his pen again, tapping it lightly against the desk. Then, almost offhand: "Call it a favor."
"A favor?"
"To my former teacher," Jing said, his voice dropping an octave. "She's been complaining about the lack of backbone in the new generation. I think Mei Lin will provide plenty of it."
Chen studied him for a second longer, clearly unconvinced that this was about a favor, but he bowed his head. "I'll inform HR to update the portal immediately."
Jing hummed, already looking back down at his blueprints. But his pen didn't move. Not immediately.
His gaze drifted, just slightly, to the tablet on the corner of his desk. To the name still sitting there. Mei Lin.
A faint, dangerous smirk touched his lips.
"...This is going to be interesting."