In her mind, she had already imagined packing up and leaving the next second, and never being able to make a name for herself in this field. But to her surprise, the big boss said nothing. He simply removed the coffee-stained watch and said indifferently, "Call someone to clean it."
That was a Vacheron Constantin! Even an internal part could cost her life.
The secretary stood there, frozen solid.
Seeing her still not moving, the latter was about to give her a look when she scurried away.
This wasn't the first time she had made a mistake. Last time, she had printed over a dozen pages wrong. In the middle of a meeting, the department head had yelled, cursing at the intern—do the job or get lost! Lu Tingzhou, sitting at the head, had unexpectedly come to her rescue, just saying, "Have someone reprint a copy."
Since the big boss had spoken, the grumbling department head shut up.
...
Over time, rumors began to spread internally that their Chairman Lu had special feelings for the new secretary, paying her particular attention.
"Did you notice? It seems President Lu is quite polite to young girls like this."
In the break room, Nars, the sharp short-haired marketing director, rubbed the marble counter and murmured thoughtfully, "Almost like... an instinctive partiality."
"You know?"
Standing beside her was the mature, alluring beauty Wan Yi, Lu Tingzhou's direct subordinate and executive administrative secretary.
Her mug was perfectly aligned in the holder, silently filling with water. A bitter smile crossed Wan Yi's flawless face. "I know."
"I've always known."
"Remember the green skirt, and pity the fragrant grass everywhere," she murmured.
A man like him, with such a distinguished status—when he cared about someone, his partiality was impossible to hide.
That year on the cruise ship, she had been cheated of both money and feelings by a scumbag, ending up deep in debt and almost driven to jump into the sea. Why did he help her? For no other reason than that day was a very special day—his sister's birthday.
-
Evening, at the group building.
Sitting in his executive chair, Lu Tingzhou frowned and thought coldly, how many times has this been?
His letter opener was always placed with the handle facing up. The financial daily was always turned to page 3 a day early. In the corner, a fresh pot of Cymbidium and a succulent Echeveria had appeared without him noticing. Documents to be processed were sorted and placed on his left; on his right was the daily schedule. The teacup held freshly brewed Pu'er, and thoughtfully, throat lozenges—sometimes energy bars—were set beside it.
Knowing he preferred room-temperature bottled water during meetings, it was always placed beside his seat in advance. The curtains and room temperature were adjusted ahead of time according to the sun's height. She knew his preferred brand of pens and the size of sticky notes he liked... Whenever he needed something, she would appear at an inopportune moment, carrying a strong scent of orange blossom.
These obvious and subtle attempts at flattery and signaling—he was fully aware of them.
But inside, he felt nothing—in fact, he found them repulsive.
That evening, the new secretary was transferred to another department.
As usual, his style was cold, efficient, and merciless.
The young woman stood sadly at the door, like a broken willow branch, pitiful and forlorn, not understanding where she had gone wrong.
Wan Yi was not overly surprised by this outcome. She simply pursed her lips and said, "Understood. I'll handle the subsequent personnel changes."
Before leaving, she even reminded HR: "The person you found had her mind in the wrong place."
A fully charged machine, no matter how you try, will never give any feedback.
It's all futile.
-
It was true that the woman had been sent away, but those meticulous attempts at ingratiation, that young girl's budding feelings, those daytime dreams soaked in rich fantasies—now, like a cold mirror, they clearly reflected what was truly missing in his heart, the irreplaceable noise and longing.
That newcomer would never know that all her efforts over so many days, her unsparing attempts to craft an impression, had left no mark on his mind—he didn't even know what she looked like. She had merely been an insignificant catalyst that had triggered this gnawing yearning.
Like a rusty key, unexpectedly unlocking a long-sealed lock in the depths of memory.
His little sister at home had never deliberately organized his desk. On the contrary, she would mess it up.
She would stuff random doodles into his stack of documents—chaotic 'masterpieces.' She would push aside his half-finished coffee cup, clamoring to make him a better tea, and then inevitably splatter tea everywhere…
She complained that his office was lifeless, smelling of unpleasant leather and the ink of printed paper. She insisted on placing a notoriously hard-to-keep, unruly moth orchid in the corner, saying it resembled him. That orchid later died under her care, and he remembered her chagrined expression…
All of this—all of it—was gone.
At the thought, Big Brother's stern, solemn face was tightly drawn. Looking from a distance, it was like a sculpture of straight, rigid lines. He wanted to contact her, but it was too late. He picked up his phone repeatedly, only to put it down again.
Unexpectedly, that very night, he received a call from Shen Xiushi.