The following day at 4:55 PM, a mere five minutes before the impossible deadline, Wang Lihua stood before President Leng Xue's desk, her knees trembling so violently she was sure the president could hear them. In her hand, she held a data stick containing their report. Su Yang stood beside her, a placid island in the storm of her anxiety.
Leng Xue took the stick without a word, her expression unreadable. She inserted it into her computer, her icy eyes scanning the document at a speed that matched Su Yang's coding. She expected a half-baked analysis, a desperate attempt to explain failure. What she read instead made her blood run cold, then hot with a shock so profound it was akin to physical vertigo.
The report was flawless. It didn't just identify the critical flaw; it detailed it with a clarity and precision that shamed the original senior team's months of work. It presented not one, but three elegant solutions, complete with optimized code snippets that were works of art in their efficiency. The proposed architecture was not a fix; it was a revolution, making the original project look like a child's sketch.
This was impossible. It was beyond impossible. A senior team of PhDs had been baffled. An intern and a junior assistant had not only solved it but had *transcended* it in less than a day.
Her first reaction was vehement, internal denial. *Plagiarism. They stole it. They must have.* But a quick, furious cross-reference with all internal and external repositories showed nothing. This code, these solutions, were unique. They were genius.
Her eyes flicked from the screen to Su Yang. His calm demeanor was no longer just irritating; it was terrifying. Who was he? What was he?
She looked at Wang Lihua, who was pale and looked like she might vomit. The girl's terror was genuine. She was a capable programmer, yes, but this… this was not her work. This was something else.
The denial curdled into a stunned, awe-struck silence. Manager Li was not just wrong; he was catastrophically, dangerously blind.
Leng Xue took a slow, measured breath, the only sign of the earthquake happening within her. She removed the data stick and placed it carefully on her desk.
"This is… acceptable work," she said, her voice strained, fighting to maintain its usual coolness. The understatement was colossal. "You have both exceeded expectations."
Lihua's legs almost gave way. "Th-thank you, President Leng."
"Effective immediately," Leng Xue continued, her mind racing to recalibrate her entire understanding of her department, "Wang Lihua, your salary is increased by forty percent. Your position is now Senior Technical Analyst."
Lihua's jaw dropped. She couldn't form words.
Leng Xue's gaze then shifted to Su Yang. It was a long, appraising look, as if she were seeing him for the very first time. "Su Yang. Your internship is concluded. You are offered a permanent position as a Lead Systems Architect." She paused, letting the title, which was several pay grades above Manager Li, hang in the air. "And following a review of departmental management, you will also be assuming the duties of Department Manager. Manager Li will be… reassigned."
It was a corporate execution, delivered with icy finality. The threat had been neutralized, and the anomaly had been not just acknowledged, but promoted to a position of power.
That evening, Leng Xue did something she never did. She invited them to dinner. Not a corporate event, but a private meal at an exclusive, quiet restaurant. It was just the three of them.
The atmosphere was deeply awkward. Lihua was still shell-shocked, picking at her food. Leng Xue was studying Su Yang like a complex equation she couldn't solve. Su Yang, as always, was serene.
"You have a unique talent, Su Yang," Leng Xue said, cutting through the silence. "A mind like that… wasted on mundane tasks. What are your ambitions? Surely you don't intend to just… code forever?"
It was a probe, an attempt to understand the driving force behind the enigma.
Su Yang took a sip of water. "I seek to understand the underlying structures of things," he said, which was perhaps the most truthful and yet most cryptic answer he could have given.
Leng Xue's lips thinned. "Power, then. Influence. To shape systems, not just obey them." She nodded, as if this was a language she understood. "You have my trust to reshape the department. Make it efficient. Make it profitable. I will support you." It was both a offer and a test of his ambitions.
During the main course, Su Yang excused himself to use the restroom. A few minutes later, Leng Xue also felt a sudden, sharp unrest in her stomach—a combination of rich food and the lingering stress of the day's revelations. Muttering an apology to a bewildered Lihua, she stood and made her way to the restrooms.
The hallway was dimly lit and plushly carpeted. Distracted, her mind still reeling from the code and Su Yang's infuriating calm, she pushed open the first door she saw marked with a figure.
The sight that greeted her was so utterly outside the realm of her ordered existence that her brain simply refused to process it for a full second.
She was in the men's washroom. And standing before a urinal was Su Yang.
But that was not what froze her in place, her hand still on the door handle.
It was the sight of the *Soaring Dragon*.
It was fully unleashed, a breathtaking, terrifying monument of masculine power that defied all her preconceived notions of human anatomy. It was magnificent, primal, and utterly intimidating. In her world of boardrooms and code, she had never seen, never even imagined, such raw, untamed biology.
Her first instinct was sheer, unadulterated panic. She should flee, apologize, pretend this never happened.
But then, Su Yang's unique pheromones, which had been subtly affecting her since their first meeting, now flooded the confined, intimate space. The scent of ancient sandalwood, ozone, and pure, potent Yang energy washed over her, short-circuiting her rational mind and stirring something deep, dormant, and fiercely hungry within her.
The shock transformed into a different kind of paralysis—a mesmerized, awestruck fascination. Her professional icy demeanor shattered, replaced by a primal, female curiosity.
Her eyes wide, her breath catching in her throat, she took a step forward. Then another. The door swung shut behind her, sealing them in the quiet, opulent room.
"You…" she whispered, her voice hoarse. "Are you… is it… injured?"
The question was absurd, born of a mind trying to rationalize the irrational. In her world, something that magnificent must require maintenance, must be fragile. She saw him and thought not of seduction, but of concern for this awe-inspiring instrument.
When he didn't respond, too stunned by her sudden appearance, she moved closer, drawn by an irresistible force. She knelt on the pristine marble floor, her expensive pantsuit forgotten.
Her first kiss was not on a lover's lips.
Hesitantly, driven by a bizarre mix of clinical concern and overpowering instinct, she leaned forward and pressed her lips, ever so gently, to the tip—the head—of the Soaring Dragon.
It was a feather-light touch, a kiss of pure, unadulterated awe. A silent apology for the intrusion and a involuntary act of worship toward the source of the energy that had been haunting her dreams and shaking her world to its core.
The moment her lips made contact, a jolt of pure, undiluted Yang Qi, more potent than anything she had ever experienced, shot through her. It was a lightning strike that shattered the icy blockages in her meridians for a single, glorious second and flooded her entire being with a warmth so intense it was almost painful.
She gasped, jerking back, her gray eyes wide with a new kind of shock—the shock of a sensation so profound it felt like being born anew. She stared up at Su Yang, her lips still tingling, her carefully constructed world lying in ruins at her feet, replaced by a terrifying, thrilling new reality she no longer understood.