If Su Yao could erase her entire morning and start life over again as a cactus somewhere in the desert, she would. Anything—literally anything—would be better than being the girl who made the CEO smile like she was some kind of walking circus act.
She sat at her desk, still mortified, clutching her lanyard like it was a life vest. Shanshan hadn't stopped staring at her in pure disbelief for the last five minutes, like Su Yao had just performed an exorcism on the CEO.
"So," Shanshan whispered, leaning dangerously close, "you have a death wish or…?"
"I didn't know he was behind me!"
"HOW? His aura alone feels like winter in Siberia."
"I was too busy fighting the demon printer!"
Shanshan squinted at her. "Honestly, you're either really brave or cosmically unlucky. Probably both."
Su Yao groaned and pressed her forehead onto her desk. The wood was cold and comforting. She could live here now. Eat here. Sleep here. Become a desk ornament.
"Maybe he didn't hear me," she mumbled into the table.
"Girl. He made eye contact with you. Do you know how many people in this company have been working here for years without getting that privilege? And you got a smile? On day one? While insulting office equipment?"
Su Yao groaned louder and hit her forehead lightly on the table.
Chen Wei, passing by with a stack of documents, said, "Don't damage your head, you need it for work."
She jerked up. "Senior Chen, please, I'm having a crisis."
"Already? It's not even 10 AM."
"Life is cruel," she muttered, slinking lower in her chair.
Chen Wei shrugged in that expressionless, big-brother way of his. "You'll get used to it. This company destroys souls systematically."
"Wow," she said. "Comforting."
He set a stack of forms on her desk. "Fill these out before noon."
"What— wait— I just started!"
"Welcome to corporate life."
He left before she could complain.
She sighed dramatically. Shanshan patted her shoulder like Su Yao was a patient with a terminal disease.
But truly, she wasn't thinking about the forms.
She was thinking about him.
That man from the elevator.
That man with the unreadable face.
That man whose eyes briefly softened today like he had seen something familiar.
She didn't know why she kept replaying the moment. It was embarrassing enough to make her want to evaporate into steam, but something about it… tugged at her chest. Something about the way he looked at her didn't feel like the usual CEO-to-employee distance.
Not that she'd ever looked at a CEO before.
Not that she planned to look again.
Her entire goal for today was just to not die.
Too late.
"Yaoyao, lunch?" Shanshan asked after a while, snapping her out of the spiral.
"Oh right. Yes. I need food to survive. And maybe regret."
"That too."
They left for the elevator. Su Yao held her soy milk cup tighter as if it could protect her from public humiliation. Maybe if she prayed hard enough, the CEO would be on a different planet today.
Shanshan pressed the down button.
The elevator dinged open.
Inside stood exactly the one person she prayed NOT to see.
The CEO.
The Iceberg himself.
Xiao Le.
He was standing in the middle of the elevator like time bowed to him. Hands behind his back, posture straight, face expressionless again—like the smile earlier was an illusion Su Yao created out of stress.
Su Yao froze mid-step, like a rabbit who saw a predator wearing an expensive suit.
Shanshan whispered, "Oh my god."
Her whisper echoed.
Too loud. Too obvious.
Su Yao's hand went sweaty around the soy milk cup. She straightened slightly, then realized she was blocking the elevator entrance. The doors attempted to close and bounced off her arm.
The CEO's eyes shifted slightly in her direction.
No expression. Just a glance.
But Su Yao felt punched in the lungs.
"I—I—sorry—excuse—sorry—" she stuttered and practically shoved herself inside.
The elevator was eerily quiet as the doors closed.
Shanshan pressed the lobby button with excessive force. Chen Wei looked like he had swallowed his tongue. Even the intern from IT standing in the back gulped audibly like he was witnessing something forbidden.
Xiao Le didn't say a thing.
Didn't move.
Didn't blink.
Just stood there like a silent black hole sucking all the oxygen out of the small metal box.
The elevator started descending.
It was fine.
Everything was fine.
It was JUST an elevator ride.
Until the elevator jerked.
Hard.
Like it suddenly remembered gravity existed.
Su Yao yelped. Not a cute yelp. A full-on squeak that escaped her throat before she could stop it. Her soy milk almost launched into orbit.
She stumbled, and her shoulder hit the side railing.
Before she could regain balance, a hand reached out.
Large. Warm. Steady.
It wrapped around her wrist gently, guiding her upright.
Her heart jumped.
Her breath stopped.
Her mind dissolved into static.
Xiao Le was holding her.
Touching her.
Steadying her like she weighed nothing.
Her eyes snapped up at him.
His expression didn't change, but his eyes…
His eyes were different.
Softer.
Like something inside them loosened when he saw her almost fall.
For a split second, she felt… seen.
Then his hand withdrew, controlled, calm, returning to the cold perfection he wore like armor.
"Careful," he said softly.
Just one word.
Careful.
But it was spoken like he had said it before.
Like he had said it long, long ago.
And for some reason, something in Su Yao's chest tugged hard—like an old memory trying to break through the surface.
Her pulse thundered in her ears.
She swallowed. "Th-thank you, sir."
He gave a tiny nod.
The elevator continued descending normally, though the silence felt even heavier now.
When they reached the lobby, everyone practically fled. The intern sprinted out like he was escaping a burning building. Chen Wei muttered something about needing air. Shanshan barely held in a scream until they turned a corner.
The moment they were out of sight, Shanshan exploded.
"HE TOUCHED YOU. HE! THE CEO! TOUCHED YOUR HAND!"
"It was my wrist!"
"Details! Details! That was physical contact! Actual human-to-human touching!"
"It wasn't like that!"
"He said 'careful'! I've worked here for two years—TWO YEARS—and the man never said more than 'meeting at three.'"
Su Yao's ears were burning.
Her face felt hot enough to fry eggs.
"It was just… reflex," she muttered.
"Reflex for who? Normal people watch others fall. Normal people laugh. Normal people do NOT gently catch random coworkers like they're fragile teacups."
Su Yao pushed her hair back nervously. "He probably just didn't want me to sue the company."
Shanshan stared at her like she was an alien.
"You are either extremely humble or unbelievably dense."
"Probably both," Su Yao admitted.
They reached the cafeteria, got food, found seats. But Su Yao barely tasted anything. Her mind kept replaying one moment—
His hand. Warm around her wrist.
His voice. Quietly telling her to be careful.
His eyes. That strange softness that shouldn't exist there.
He felt… familiar.
No. Not possible.
She didn't know him.
He definitely didn't know her.
It was just a coincidence.
Just a corporate miracle that she hadn't fallen flat on her face.
A one-time event.
Except… it wasn't.
Because when lunchtime ended and they walked back to the elevator…
He was there again.
Standing at the far end of the hallway, talking quietly with his assistant. But the moment Su Yao stepped into view—
He looked up.
Not a random glance.
Not a sweep.
A direct, deliberate, sharp look straight at her.
Her heart jumped so hard she forgot how to breathe.
His stare wasn't cold.
It wasn't warm either.
It was… searching.
Like he recognized something in her he couldn't quite place.
Shanshan elbowed her. "Stop staring—you're going to combust."
"I'm not staring!"
"You're staring WITH YOUR SOUL."
Su Yao whipped around, face red, walking faster, nearly tripping again.
And this time, she didn't see it—
But Xiao Le did.
He watched her rush away, eyes narrowing faintly.
Something inside him whispered again.
Familiar.
Familiar.
Familiar.
Like the faint echo of a voice calling him by a name no one in this city had spoken in nineteen years.
And for the first time that day, his fingers tightened slightly at his side.
The elevator misfortune wasn't misfortune at all.
It was the beginning.