"If there's no future left…
Then what's the use of having a soul?"
Su Rui heard herself speak those words, and it felt like a piece of her chest had been hollowed out.
It was clearly her voice, and yet it felt like it came from someone else—
so unfamiliar it chilled her to the bone.
Shen Yichen didn't respond.
He stood where he was, his face cold as marble—
no room, no emotion.
He simply stood there, quietly watching her unravel step by step.
The air was so still, it might as well have frozen.
Her breathing grew more rapid, shoulders trembling uncontrollably.
And then—
She dropped to her knees.
Bang.
Her knees hit the floor with a heavy thud—
no cushion, no hesitation.
It was the kind of kneel that came with finality, as if she wasn't just pleading,
but smashing whatever shred of pride she had left straight into the cold ground.
"No… don't do this…"
Her voice trembled to the extreme, like a broken speaker spitting out static—
every word scraped its way up her throat.
Tears streamed down, hitting the floor one by one, splashing audibly.
She buried her head, crying like someone who'd lost her soul.
Then, bit by bit, bracing herself with both hands against the floor,
she crawled toward Shen Yichen's feet—
like a puppet with its strings cut, barely able to hold together.
"Please… Shen Yichen… have mercy on me…
Don't drive me away… I truly have nothing left…"
Her voice was so fragile, like a dying leaf in the wind—shaky, powerless.
That aged body knelt in the middle of the office,
shoulders hunched, hands gripping his pant leg,
sobbing hoarsely as if her lungs were about to burst.
She looked like a terminal patient who'd hit the end of the road—
miserable, pitiful, a mess.
Finally, Shen Yichen's perfectly composed gaze wavered.
He remembered:
This body belonged to Lin Yueying—
diagnosed with stomach cancer, recently hospitalized, barely able to stand.
And yet, he also remembered:
Those eyes had once glowed with fiery defiance—
back at that banquet, where he first noticed Su Rui from across the room.
And now—
Both memories collapsed into the same person kneeling before him.
He didn't know anymore—
Who was this woman?
"Stop it. Get up."
He finally spoke, voice still cold, but without the earlier edge.
"Assistant," he called calmly into the intercom.
Within seconds, the door opened.
"President Shen, you called—"
The assistant hadn't even finished her sentence
when a sharp, dramatic wail burst from inside the office.
"He's bullying me—! I want to file a complaint! I'm going to expose your company online!"
Su Rui was still on the floor, but had suddenly turned her head toward the door,
her voice stretched high and thin, tears still streaking down her face—
the scene so dramatic it was straight out of a soap opera.
"What—just because I'm a cleaner, I'm not a person?
I'm practically coughing up blood and still can't get a few days off?
Now you're forcing me to kneel?! This is capitalist exploitation, do you hear me?!"
The assistant froze at the door, one foot still on the threshold,
completely stunned, unsure whether to step in or back out.
"P-President Shen…?"
A vein pulsed on Shen Yichen's forehead.
His face darkened ominously, but he couldn't say a word.
He didn't know what to believe anymore.
This emotional outburst—
Was it genuine collapse?
Or just another breathtakingly brilliant performance?
And as for Su Rui?
She wasn't done.
Still gripping his pants, she shouted at the top of her lungs,
"I want the media! I want a press conference!
I'm going on national television—I'll sue you all for corporate bullying!"
Assistant: …
Shen Yichen: …
And in Su Rui's heart, there was only one sentence looping on repeat:
"This performance…
If it doesn't win me a Golden Horse Award, it'd be a crime."