Morning light slipped through the blinds, cutting the room into soft strips of gold.
Lin Xinyi set down her pen, scanning the latest campaign report. Numbers were steady, margins good—nothing dramatic enough to ruin her mood before coffee.
A knock sounded on her door. Once, polite and familiar.
"Come in," she said without looking up.
He Zhiyuan stepped inside, the air around him carrying that faint, clean scent she'd long associated with trouble. Vice President He in work mode—tie straight, expression calm, clipboard tucked neatly under one arm.
"Quarterly forecast," he said, placing the file on her desk.
"Thank you." Xinyi reached for it, her fingers brushing his for half a second—an ordinary gesture that still sent a small spark of awareness running through her.
He didn't move away immediately. "Your coffee's gone cold," he murmured, eyes lowering briefly to the cup beside her hand.
"I was reading," she said, taking a deliberate sip. "Some of us multitask."
"Mm. Some of us forget breakfast," he countered lightly.
She glanced up, a brow arching. "Vice President He, are you managing my diet now?"
He only smiled, that quiet, unhurried curve that made her suspect he'd won the exchange.
Her gaze caught on his tie—slightly off-center. The imperfection irritated her more than she'd admit. "Your tie is crooked," she said matter-of-factly.
"Is it?" He looked down, as if genuinely considering it. "Professional observation?"
"Visual discomfort," she corrected, standing. "Come here."
Zhiyuan obliged, stepping closer until the faint warmth of his presence filled her space.
Up close, she could see the smooth line of the silk, the steady rise and fall of his breath. He bent his head slightly so she could reach.
She pinched the knot, adjusting it with precise movements. "Hold still."
"I'm not moving."
"Your breathing counts."
"Should I stop?" His tone was light, but the whisper of laughter in it made her fingers pause.
She gave him a look—one that should have been reprimanding—but he only tilted his head lower. Their distance shrank; she could feel the faint brush of his breath near her temple, the warmth of it distracting.
The tie straightened perfectly under her touch.
"There," she said softly. "Now you look like a respectable executive again."
His gaze dropped, lingering for a second too long. "And you look..." he said slowly, eyes tracing the neat lines of her dress, "...more dangerous than any quarterly report I've read today."
Her heart gave one unreasonable skip. "Flattery isn't part of the agenda," she reminded him.
"Consider it a performance review."
"Then you're dismissed," she replied, stepping back with a coolness she didn't quite feel.
He didn't leave immediately. "Xinyi," he said quietly, amusement threading through the calm, "if you keep fixing my tie every morning, people might start to talk."
"Then tie it properly next time," she said, returning to her chair. "Vice Presidents should know how to lead by example."
Across the hall, Assistant Zhou glanced toward her half-open office door. Both executives were inside, voices low, tones too even. He adjusted his glasses thoughtfully. Something about those two always felt... coordinated.
When Zhiyuan finally stepped out, Xinyi was already flipping pages again, expression calm. Only the faintest curve at the corner of her mouth betrayed her.
He paused at the doorway, one hand on the frame, and spoke just loud enough for her to hear.
"Perfectly straight," he said, touching his tie. "Thanks to you."
"Go work," she said without looking up.
He smiled, leaving her office with the quiet confidence of a man who'd just stolen a moment and gotten away with it.
Xinyi exhaled, staring at the report that no longer made sense. The tie, she thought. It had been crooked. Now her heartbeat was.
Later that afternoon
The company cafeteria buzzed softly with the usual chatter of lunchtime. Lin Xinyi sat by the window with her tray, scrolling through her messages, half her mind still on work.
Her phone lit up with a new notification.
Zhiyuan: "Does the tie still look straight?"
Zhiyuan: [photo attached — his reflection in the elevator mirror]
Her lips curved before she could stop it.
Xinyi: "Depends. Are you asking for feedback or attention?"
Zhiyuan: "Both. Though feedback from you tends to come with consequences."
Xinyi: "Then perhaps you should've tied it properly this morning."
Zhiyuan: "But then I wouldn't have had a reason to stand that close."
She nearly dropped her phone.
Across the cafeteria, a familiar figure sat at another table—Assistant Zhou, methodically eating while pretending not to glance her way. Xinyi cleared her throat and typed, fingers moving slower this time.
Xinyi: "Vice President He, professionalism."
Zhiyuan: "Vice President He is always professional. Husband He, however, misses his wife."
Her breath hitched—then she smiled into her coffee cup, concealing the expression with practiced grace.
Xinyi: "Finish your lunch."
Zhiyuan: "Yes, ma'am."
Typing...
"Dinner, together?"
She hesitated just long enough to feel her pulse quicken.
Xinyi: "We'll see."
When she finally looked up, Zhiyuan was standing near the cafeteria door, one hand in his pocket, phone still in the other. Their eyes met briefly—just long enough for a quiet smile to pass between them before he walked away.
That smile lingered longer than it should have.