The following week at Celestial Code Innovations was charged with a new, unspoken energy. The air in the cramped office space, once thick with the smell of stale coffee and simmering resentment, now hummed with an invisible current that seemed to emanate from Su Yang's cubicle and arc directly to Wang Lihua's.
The effects of the minute, almost accidental transfer of Yang Qi were subtle but profound. For Lihua, the chronic fatigue that had been her constant companion began to recede. The deep-seated ache in her neck and shoulders, a trophy from years of stressful work, did not return. She found herself sleeping more deeply, waking with a clarity she hadn't known in years. Her skin, once pale from stress and lack of sun, gained a faint, healthy glow. It was a rejuvenation she attributed to the strange but effective massage, a secret she held close, a personal mystery that both thrilled and unnerved her.
But the change was more than physical. Her thought processes felt sharper. A complex algorithm that would have stumped her for hours now unraveled itself in her mind with newfound ease. It was as if a mental fog had lifted. Unbeknownst to her, she was absorbing the faint, lingering excess of Su Yang's immense Yang energy, not through cultivation, but through a kind of spiritual osmosis. His energy was acting as a potent fertilizer for her own latent potential, a potential she never knew she possessed.
This newfound competence did not go unnoticed by Manager Li. Where he had once seen a stressed but malleable new hire, he now saw a growing threat. She was solving problems too quickly, her work too flawless. Combined with Su Yang's continued, unnerving perfection, it felt like his authority was being silently undermined from both sides.
The ambiguity between them grew. Brief, necessary exchanges about code or project deadlines became charged moments. Their fingers would brush against each other when passing a tablet, and Lihua would jerk her hand back as if shocked, a flush creeping up her neck. She would catch herself staring at the calm line of his profile as he worked, her mind drifting back to the dizzying, intoxicating sensation in her grandfather's shop. He, in turn, was aware of her every shift in mood, the subtle change in her energy as his Yang Qi subtly harmonized with her system.
It was during one of these fleeting, tense moments that the world outside their bubble intruded with seismic force. Su Yang was leaning over Lihua's desk to point out a line of code on her screen. Their shoulders were inches apart. Manager Li was watching them from his office, his face a thundercloud of suspicion.
The main glass doors of the office suite hissed open.
A team of high-level executives, people none of the lowly programmers ever saw, walked in with a hushed, deferential air. And at the center of them was her.
She moved with an innate, chilling authority, her gaze sweeping across the open-plan office like a laser taking inventory. She was dressed in a severe, black power suit that screamed expensive and unforgiving. Her hair was still in that severe bun, her features as sharp and cold as carved ice. It was the woman from the M-Imperial hotel. The one with the blocked Yin meridians.
The head of HR was babbling introductions. "…and we are so thrilled to welcome our new President of Technological Development, directly appointed by the board to oversee our new strategic direction, Ms. Leng Xue!"
Leng Xue. The name suited her. *Leng* meant cold.
Her piercing gray eyes scanned the room, dismissing the gawking programmers as irrelevant fixtures. They swept past Manager Li's bowing form, past the stunned Lihua, and then… they stopped. They locked onto Su Yang.
A flicker of something—recognition, then profound surprise—passed through those icy depths before being instantly suppressed by sheer will. Her perfectly sculpted eyebrows rose a fraction of a millimeter.
The room was silent. All eyes were on the new president and the intern in the strange robe who was staring back at her with an unnerving lack of fear or deference.
A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched her bloodless lips. It did not reach her eyes.
"We meet again," she said, her voice cool and clear, cutting through the silence like a shard of glass.
The collective intake of breath from the entire office was audible. Manager Li's face went from red to white. Wang Lihua looked between Su Yang and the terrifyingly beautiful new president, her mind reeling.
Su Yang merely inclined his head slightly, a gesture of acknowledgment, not submission. "Ms. Leng," he replied, his voice calm.
That was all. She continued her procession into the inner executive sanctum, leaving a wake of stunned silence and frantic speculation behind her.
The revelation exploded through the office gossip mill. Su Yang knew the new president! How? Where? The intern who dressed like a monk was connected to the ice-cold goddess who now held all their fates in her hands. Manager Li felt a cold dread seep into his bones. His plan to slowly squeeze both Su Yang and the now-competent Wang Lihua out suddenly seemed incredibly dangerous.
A few days later, a formal email arrived. To celebrate the new leadership, the company was hosting a dinner party at a high-end hotel ballroom. Attendance was "strongly encouraged."
The event was a masterpiece of corporate artifice. People who barely spoke during the day were laughing too loudly, networking with desperate intensity. Su Yang attended, wearing the same simple hemp robe, looking utterly out of place yet completely unbothered. He observed the scene like an anthropologist studying a strange tribe.
He saw Leng Xue holding court at the center of the room, a queen surrounded by fawning executives. Her smile was a polished weapon, her every word calculated. But Su Yang's senses saw past the facade. The stagnant chill in her meridians was a dark blotch against the vibrant energy of the room. She was performing through pain and fatigue, her willpower the only thing keeping her upright.
Then he saw Wang Lihua. She was sitting alone at a small table in a dimly lit corner, far from the main action. She was wearing a simple, modest dress, sipping a glass of water, looking small and overwhelmed. She was there because she had to be, but she was utterly disconnected from the pretense and politics. She was an island of quiet reality in a sea of false bonhomie.
And he saw Manager Li. The man was not enjoying the party. He was nursing a drink, his eyes narrowed, watching Lihua from across the room. The look on his face was not one of casual observation. It was a cold, calculating glare. The presence of the new president had thwarted his direct plans, but it had also presented a new opportunity. Leng Xue valued efficiency and results above all else, according to her terrifying reputation. What better way to curry favor than to expose incompetence? And who was a better target than the suddenly competent assistant who might now be seen as a threat? He could fabricate an error, sabotage a project, and lay the blame squarely on her. With her gone, and with Su Yang potentially connected to the new president, he could reassert his control.
Su Yang's gaze shifted from the isolated, vulnerable Lihua to the plotting Manager Li, and then to the cold, suffering President Leng at the center of the room.
Three threads of karma, intertwined in this den of modern ambition. The lonely caregiver, the petty tyrant, and the icy leader with a hidden ailment.
The game had just become significantly more complex. The dinner party was not a celebration. It was a chessboard, and Su Yang, the Yin-Yang Envoy, had just found his pieces.