Chapter 39 - A Sharp Entrance
Elder Yan emerged from his inner office like a sudden storm cloud, his face flushed with a volatile mix of irritation and chronic exhaustion. He stood at the threshold, clutching a roll of blueprints as if they were a weapon, and scanned the open-plan studio with a predatory gaze. His eyes darted over the frantic designers, the hunched-over interns, and the cluttered workstations until they landed squarely on Zong Yan, who was currently occupied with nothing more taxing than staring at a flickering cursor.
"Her," the old man barked, his finger trembling slightly as he pointed toward her. "She’s the idlest one here. Zeqi, take her with you. Get her out of my sight."
Li Zeqi paused, his hand frozen on the door handle, and rubbed his temples with a weary sigh. "Elder Yan, please don't be so impulsive. This is a high-level corporate function, not a field trip. We need someone who can handle the social nuances..."
Zong Yan looked up from her monitor, her expression blank, her mind still trailing behind the conversation. "Huh? Me?"
"It’s decided!" Elder Yan snapped, waving a hand dismissively as if shooing away a persistent fly. "Stop your bickering. Zeqi, just take her and go. Find her something decent to wear—shove her into a dress or something—and just make sure the rest of this mess doesn't land back on my desk tonight. I need peace to think!"
Li Zeqi turned to Zong Yan, his expression a complicated tapestry of apology and professional resignation. Zong Yan, ever the pragmatist and rarely one to be swayed by the prestige of an invitation, tilted her head slightly. Her first thought wasn't about the luxury of the event, but the logistics of her survival.
"Is there overtime pay for this?" she asked, her voice flat and devoid of excitement.
"No," Li Zeqi replied, his voice equally flat as he rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. He let out a long, heavy breath, accepting the reality that he was now responsible for a very reluctant "plus-one." "Just come with me. It’s better than staying here and listening to him yell for another three hours."
Ultimately, Zong Yan found herself at the Shenlong Hotel. She wasn't expected to lead any discussions or charm any investors; her role was simply to be a "quiet hanging ornament," a silent shadow trailing behind Li Zeqi. While Li Zeqi possessed a certain scholarly aloofness, his social maneuvering was surprisingly adept. He moved through the gilded ballroom with practiced ease, engaging in the rhythmic back-and-forth of high-society small talk without missing a beat.
"Just keep your ears open for any information regarding the new land plots," Li Zeqi whispered to her during a brief lull between introductions. "That’s the only reason we’re here. The rest is just noise."
Zong Yan nodded, content to fade into the background. The atmosphere was thick with the scent of expensive perfumes and the sterile, chilled air of the luxury HVAC system. She held a flute of vintage champagne, the condensation cooling her palm, and spent the better part of half an hour nursing the same glass. To her, the opulence felt hollow, a stage set for a play she hadn't auditioned for.
Then, the heavy double doors at the far end of the hall swung open.
A figure stepped inside, and the ambient chatter of the room seemed to dip in volume, drawn toward him like iron filings to a magnet. It was Si Jiang. His hair, a striking, metallic silver-grey, had been styled back away from his face, emphasizing the sharp, cold architecture of his features. He wore a bespoke suit that looked less like clothing and more like a suit of armor, tailored so perfectly it seemed to restrict his very breath. His silk tie was knotted with suffocating precision, pulled tight against a collar that looked like it was holding him together by sheer force of will.
"Isn't that the Si family's only son?" a woman nearby whispered, her voice fluttering with excitement. "I thought he was still hiding away abroad."
"He returned recently," her companion replied, leaning in closer. "Look at Madam Si—she’s been cornering Madam Lyu all evening. It’s obvious they’re angling for a marriage alliance."
Zong Yan stood in the periphery, her gaze fixed on the man who had once been the center of her world in a very different life. From this distance, the "Golden Boy" looked anything but victorious. Even under the brilliant, forgiving glow of the crystal chandeliers, he couldn't mask the visceral exhaustion etched into the lines of his face. His skin was pale, his expression guarded, and his eyes lacked the vibrant spark she remembered.
*Has he even slept at all?* she wondered, a flicker of something unidentifiable stirring in her chest as she watched him navigate the sea of vultures.
