The next morning unfolded with deceptive calm.
Liu Xin arrived at the office early, the sky still streaked with the last blushes of dawn. She'd barely slept, Wu Jian's confession looping in her mind like a haunting refrain.
> "Your presence… doesn't feel like noise."
She didn't know what to make of those words—but they had taken up residence in her chest.
She busied herself with the gala checklist, updating guest lists and reconciling floral invoices. Her inbox was flooded, her screen bright, her coffee lukewarm by the time Wu Jian's door opened.
He was already dressed immaculately today. The usual tailored suit. Crisp collar. Tie fastened. Hair smoothed back.
But the shadows were still there. Lurking behind his eyes like ghosts that hadn't left.
"Meeting in ten," he said, his voice low but composed.
She nodded. "With the charity liaison?"
"Yes. Apparently the board sent someone from their core team to oversee the final details."
There was an odd note in his voice, but she couldn't quite place it.
They walked to the conference room together, silence walking with them. Liu Xin carried the portfolio, her heels soft against the polished marble. Wu Jian's expression was unreadable, fixed ahead.
As they reached the glass doors, a receptionist approached with a clipboard. "Sir, Miss Qiao has arrived and is waiting in the boardroom."
Wu Jian stopped.
Liu Xin nearly bumped into him.
He didn't move for a full second. Then gave a curt nod. "Thank you."
The receptionist left.
Liu Xin blinked. "Miss Qiao?"
He exhaled slowly, then met her gaze. "Qiao An. The board sent her… I didn't know she'd be the one."
Before Liu Xin could ask anything more, he pushed open the door to the boardroom.
And there she was.
A woman stood by the window, bathed in morning light. She wore an ivory blouse tucked into a soft beige pencil skirt, heels matching the delicate shade of her lipstick. Elegant. Poised.
Beautiful.
She turned at the sound of the door—and smiled.
"Jian," she said, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Wu Jian's posture stiffened. "Miss Qiao."
Liu Xin froze behind him.
Qiao An's eyes drifted to Liu Xin, sharp but polite. "And this must be your assistant?"
Liu Xin opened her mouth to correct her, but Wu Jian spoke first. "This is Liu Xin. She's the lead event planner for the gala."
"Ah," Qiao An said, extending a hand. "A pleasure."
Liu Xin took it briefly. Her fingers were colder than expected.
"I've read the preliminary drafts," Qiao An said, flipping open her binder. "But since this is such a high-profile event—and the Lu family is involved—I thought it best we go over things in person."
Wu Jian remained silent.
Qiao An didn't seem fazed. She sat gracefully, legs crossed, flipping through color swatches and seating plans. "You still use white roses?" she asked, without looking up.
Wu Jian's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "We do."
She gave a small smile. "You used to hate them."
No response.
Liu Xin sat beside him, flipping to the logistics page, suddenly very aware of the silent war unfolding across the table.
Qiao An leaned forward. "Tell me, Miss Liu, are you the one responsible for the entertainment curation?"
"Yes," Liu Xin said evenly. "And vendor management."
"Impressive. I remember when Jian used to handle those things himself. He liked control."
Her gaze slid toward him. There was no accusation in her voice. But the implication was clear.
Wu Jian finally spoke. "That was a long time ago."
"Was it?" she asked softly.
Silence.
The air in the room shifted—like a fault line being tested.
Liu Xin cleared her throat. "Regarding the seating arrangement, we had a last-minute VIP confirmation from Senator Li's office. I'd suggest moving table five to accommodate—"
"That's fine," Wu Jian said, eyes still on Qiao An. "Miss Liu's judgment is reliable."
Qiao An's gaze flickered, just slightly.
Then she smiled again, softer this time. "Of course it is."
The rest of the meeting passed in a blur of notes, approvals, and polite commentary. But Liu Xin wasn't hearing most of it. She was watching. Watching the way Qiao An leaned ever so slightly toward Wu Jian when she spoke. Watching the way Wu Jian's fingers curled under the table, the only sign of unease.
Watching a history she didn't know press into the present like a bruise.
When the meeting ended, Qiao An stood. "I'll be in the city all week. We should catch up."
Wu Jian didn't answer.
Qiao An turned to Liu Xin. "It was lovely meeting you. I hope the gala is everything you want it to be."
There was something knowing in her tone.
Liu Xin smiled politely. "Likewise."
When she left, the room felt colder.
Wu Jian remained still, staring at the closed door.
Liu Xin hesitated. "That was…"
"Unexpected," he said curtly.
"She's the one you were going to—"
"Yes."
That single word landed like stone between them.
Liu Xin nodded slowly. "She's very poised."
"She always was."
There was a pause. Then, he looked at her.
"She won't be a problem," he said.
But something in his eyes said otherwise.
Liu Xin gathered the files and stood. "It's not my place to worry."
She started toward the door.
"Miss Liu."
She stopped.
Wu Jian's voice was quiet. "If you have questions… ask them."
She turned back, searching his expression. "Do you want me to?"
He didn't answer.
And that, somehow, was an answer in itself.
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