The office felt unusually quiet the next morning.
Liu Xin sat at her desk outside Wu Jian's office, fingers poised over the keyboard, yet unmoving. Her inbox was full—vendor invoices, design confirmations, gala logistics—but her mind wasn't on any of it.
Instead, she kept replaying his words from last night.
> "Some truths hurt more than silence."
"My past doesn't like to stay buried."
They weren't just offhand remarks. Something had shifted. Wu Jian had looked… worn. Haunted, even. For the first time, the cold, unreachable CEO had seemed like a man trying to keep something locked away.
And for some reason, he'd let her see a glimpse of it.
She sighed, finally pulling herself together and starting on the vendor confirmations. Her fingers flew over the keyboard with professional ease, but her thoughts remained distracted. Wu Jian hadn't come in yet. Highly unusual, given that he usually beat everyone into the office.
Had something happened?
She scolded herself for caring too much. You're his event planner. Not his confidante.
But still… something itched at the back of her mind.
By the time noon arrived, her worry had simmered into mild frustration. She'd just stood to stretch when the elevator chimed.
He walked in.
Except this wasn't the usual Wu Jian—sleek, immaculate, and ice-cold.
This was Wu Jian with shadows under his eyes and a faint crease between his brows. His hair was slightly tousled, and the top button of his shirt was undone. No tie. No armor.
And his eyes—distant, darker than usual.
Liu Xin straightened instinctively. "Good morning."
He gave a small nod in return but didn't stop. Just walked past her, into his office.
And closed the door.
Click.
No meeting request. No comment about the pending floral contracts. No instructions.
Liu Xin stared at the frosted glass. The part of her trained to respect boundaries told her to stay put. But another part—the one that had seen a flicker of pain in his eyes—said otherwise.
She hesitated for a moment longer before standing and knocking lightly.
No answer.
She cracked the door open just a bit.
"CEO Wu?"
He was sitting at his desk, but he wasn't working. His elbows were on the polished surface, hands clasped in front of his mouth, staring out at the skyline.
His voice, when it came, was low. "I didn't call for anything."
"I know," Liu Xin replied. "But… is everything alright?"
Silence stretched.
Then, slowly, he turned toward her. His expression was blank—but not indifferent. It was the kind of blank that came from holding too much inside.
"It's an anniversary," he said finally.
She blinked. "Of…?"
He didn't answer directly. Just turned his gaze back to the window. "Some days leave marks, even when you don't want them to."
Something in his tone made her chest tighten.
There was a weight behind those words. A pain that didn't belong to boardrooms or business deals.
Liu Xin took a careful step forward. "Do you want to talk about it?"
His eyes flicked back to hers. A brief, unreadable look.
"I don't talk," he said. "I build. I work. I keep moving."
"And that works?" she asked gently.
He gave a humorless smile. "Until it doesn't."
She wanted to ask more. Wanted to ask what had happened on this day—what memory had stolen his usual composure. But she knew better than to push.
Instead, she walked to the small side table where he kept his coffee machine and quietly poured him a cup. No sugar. Just how he liked it.
When she set it down on his desk, he looked at it for a moment. Then at her.
"I didn't think you'd still be here after last night."
She shrugged. "You underestimate my stubbornness."
"Or overestimate my patience," he countered, but there was a faint softness to his voice.
Liu Xin gave a small smile. "Probably both."
The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable. It was… still. Like the space between two breaths. The kind of silence that asked for nothing but offered understanding.
Then, almost imperceptibly, Wu Jian spoke again.
"I was seventeen," he said.
Liu Xin froze.
"They were driving me to my grandmother's house. I argued with my mother that morning—about something stupid, I can't even remember what."
Her throat tightened.
"The last thing I said to her was that I didn't want to spend the weekend there. That I wished they'd just leave me alone."
He looked down at the coffee, fingers tracing the rim of the porcelain cup.
"There was rain. A red truck ran the light."
Liu Xin didn't breathe.
"They died instantly. I didn't."
His voice was flat, but his knuckles had turned white.
"I remember the color red. That's what stuck. Their blood, the flashing lights, the roses someone left by the roadside later. Red everywhere."
She swallowed hard, heart aching in her chest.
"I don't talk about this," he said quietly. "Ever."
Liu Xin stepped closer. "Why tell me?"
He looked up at her—and for once, he didn't have a wall in his eyes.
"Because you asked."
They stood like that for a moment. Two people from opposite worlds, connected by something raw and quiet.
"I'm sorry," she said softly. "For all of it."
He gave a short nod, as if that was all he could offer in return.
Liu Xin turned to go, sensing that this was enough for now.
But before she reached the door, his voice stopped her.
"Miss Liu."
She turned.
His gaze met hers, steady now. "I don't know why, but your presence… doesn't feel like noise."
It wasn't a compliment. Not exactly.
But it felt heavier than one.
She didn't reply—just nodded and left the room, heart quietly hammering.
Outside, the world continued like nothing had happened.
But inside, something had begun to thaw.
And Liu Xin knew this story was no longer just about a gala or a demanding boss.
It was about healing.
Slowly. Unexpectedly.
And dangerously.
What makes him say that stay tuned!
To Be Continued...