Chapter 13: What We Never Said Out Loud
It was raining again.
Not the kind of storm that howled or crashed against windows, but the quiet drizzle that made city lights blur like tears behind glass.
Xuan Qi leaned against her office window, arms crossed, watching the traffic below move like sluggish veins through the heart of the city.
Her empire.
Built from nothing but ambition and spite. Fortified by sleepless nights, corporate battles, and a cold smile she'd perfected over a decade.
And now—he was walking through it.
Wei Jie knocked on the door twice before entering, holding a tablet and a stack of printed reports.
"You asked for the supply chain status from the East District," he said, setting them on her desk. "I added annotations."
She didn't glance up. "I could've read it myself."
"I know. I just thought you might want the human version before the numbers make your eyes bleed."
He sounded casual, but he hadn't quite stopped fidgeting since stepping inside.
She finally turned to him. "I didn't ask you here to be charming, Wei Jie."
"You didn't ask me here at all. You gave me this department and haven't spoken to me in three days unless it was about delivery timeframes."
"Because that's what you're here for," she said calmly. "Work. Not romance."
He studied her face. "Then why did you invite me back into your world?"
She paused. A long one.
"Because part of me wanted to know if you'd survive in it."
"And have I?"
"You're still here," she said quietly. "But surviving and belonging are two different things."
The tension was familiar.
Not angry. Not warm. But tight—like two strings that had once been tuned to the same note, now stretched too far apart to resonate.
He picked up one of the printed pages, then set it down again.
"Do you know what I think about every time I see you behind that desk?" he asked.
She didn't answer.
"I remember when we used to dream about having matching desks, two mugs full of bad coffee, and one window with a shitty view—but our names on the door."
She exhaled. "That dream died."
"No," he said, stepping closer. "You just carried it alone for too long."
For a moment, she almost softened.
But just as quickly, her phone buzzed.
She answered sharply. "Xuan Qi."
A pause. Her expression darkened.
"I'll handle it," she said coldly. "Tell the board they're not pulling out unless they want every media outlet sniffing through their internal ethics report."
She hung up and sighed, pinching her temples.
"Investor problems?" Wei Jie asked.
She looked up. "One of our backers got cold feet after a media leak about my acquisition in Suzhou. They want to cut funding unless I back down."
He leaned against the side of the desk. "Want me to yell at someone?"
She smiled faintly. "That would be entertaining. But no."
A beat.
"Actually," she added slowly, "You want to come with me to the meeting?"
He blinked. "Seriously?"
"I could use a reminder that I still have people who aren't afraid to be honest with me."
"You sure it's not just to see if I'll choke under pressure?"
She arched a brow. "Would you?"
He grinned. "Guess we'll find out."
The meeting was brutal.
Six men in suits, two women in designer heels, and one long glass table with power stacked at every corner.
Wei Jie stood beside her like a soldier on unfamiliar ground, but his posture was calm.
They grilled her for an hour—accusations dressed as questions, smiles that carried knives. She handled every one with sharp grace.
And then, when one particularly smug board member suggested a "softer leadership transition," Wei Jie spoke.
"With all due respect," he said coolly, "You didn't invest in a charity. You invested in a woman who turned three empty floors and a dying brand into the fastest-growing firm in your portfolio."
Everyone turned.
Wei Jie continued, "If you're uncomfortable now that her growth threatens your control, maybe the problem isn't her decisions—it's your ego."
Dead silence.
Xuan Qi stare at him
No one had ever defended her like that. Not in front of them.
She stood and closed the meeting with a curt nod. "This conversation is over."p
Later, as they walked out into the rain, she didn't say anything for a while.
Then: "You didn't have to do that."
"I know."
"You could've made things worse."
"I didn't."
"You risked everything."
He turned to her, his hair damp and eyes steady.
"Maybe," he said. "But I wasn't going to stand there and watch them try to take what you built—again."
She looked at him for a long time.
"You really haven't changed, have you?"
He shook his head. "I have. But the part of me that loves you still doesn't know how to stay quiet when you're being wronged."
Her breath caught, but she didn't let it show.
Instead, she stepped closer, letting the rain soak through her silk blouse.
"You know this doesn't mean we're okay."
"I know."
"You know I'm still angry."
"Good," he said. "Angry means you still feel something."
That night, she sent him a message:
You were reckless today. But thank you.
He replied one minute later:
I'll never stop choosing your side. Even when you don't.