Chapter 16: Contact

Ever since getting caught red-handed playing games by Xu Yan, Chen Yi had lost all desire to keep going. After all, now whenever she picked up her phone in the office, she instinctively wanted to glance back over her shoulder. She always felt like an icy, piercing gaze was boring into her from behind, freezing her spine brittle as a cracker.

Who could focus on a game like that?

Chen Yi simply set her phone down and buried her head on the desk for a nap.

But she couldn’t sleep too soundly. Some nerve in the back of her mind stayed taut, and her phone alarm was set to wake her at any moment.

Once the nail-biting lunch break finally ended, Chen Yi lifted her head from the desk, her arms aching from the awkward position. She rubbed them as she turned to peek toward Xu Yan’s office.

Xu Yan had said she’d accompany her on an errand that afternoon, but hadn’t specified the time.

Yu You’an, sitting across from Chen Yi, let out a long yawn.

Chen Yi glanced at her. “That sleepy?”

Yu You’an teased her right back. “Says you—you’re yawning too.”

Only then did Chen Yi realize that she’d let out a drawn-out yawn right along with her.

“As everyone knows, yawns are contagious, just like laughter,” Chen Yi said.

Yu You’an nodded halfheartedly, rubbing her cheeks before running through a full set of eye exercises. Once finished, her drowsiness had eased. She dragged Chen Yi to the break room to brew some tea, gossiping all the while. “So, what’s the plan for you and Chief Editor Xu this afternoon?”

Chen Yi cradled the coffee Yu You’an had made for her, stroking the side of the mug. She shook her head. “No idea.”

“She hasn’t said yet.”

Yu You’an grinned. “Well, I’m heading out then. I’ve got a meeting scheduled with the warehouse folks—I need to leave soon.”

Chen Yi nodded. “Sure.”

They walked back to the office together. Yu You’an packed up her things, slinging a small bag over her shoulder. She chugged the rest of her coffee, waved goodbye to Chen Yi, and took a few steps away before turning back and walking backward toward her desk. She stopped there, beaming. “If anything progresses this afternoon, you have to tell me all about it.”

Chen Yi swatted her away with a slap. “Get lost, Yu You’an!”

Would it kill her not to ship them?

She was Fade’s beloved little disciple now, after all.

Forget Xu Yan—even if a dozen Liu Yandis or Fan Yans showed up, she wouldn’t care.

Chen Yi checked the time. Too embarrassed to ask Xu Yan directly about their departure, she slacked off at her desk instead.

After finishing her sixth game of Spider Solitaire, she heard Xu Yan calling her name.

“Chen Yi.”

Chen Yi jolted in surprise, shooting to her feet on reflex. “Here!”

Every eye in the office turned to her.

Xu Yan sighed helplessly. “Let’s go.”

Chen Yi scrambled. “Coming right now!”

She quickly gathered her things, shoving aside the sudden pang of guilt that had surged when her name was called. Who could understand? In that instant, Chen Yi had flashed back to elementary and middle school computer class. The teacher droned on about Word and Excel up front while she and her classmates snuck in games from the pre-installed software below—until the teacher called her name.

If her soul hadn’t scattered in sheer terror, she’d count herself lucky.

Who knew this primal student fear of teachers would resurface in her adult life?

Damn this job.

Chen Yi sighed inwardly, her face as still as a placid pond. Once she’d packed her notebook and essentials, she hurried to Xu Yan’s side.

Xu Yan was chatting with a colleague about article pitches for the next issue. Spotting Chen Yi, she gave her a glance and wrapped up. “Those ideas we discussed sound good. Flesh them out, and we’ll talk at the meeting.”

The colleague grinned. “Got it, Chief Editor Xu.”

“Bye, Little Yi,” the colleague added, waving to Chen Yi.

Chen Yi dipped her head politely, the picture of a meek newbie office drone.

They walked to the underground garage without Chen Yi asking a single question. She stayed silent, and so did Xu Yan. The two moved like statues—walking ones.

At the car, the driver—the same one Chen Yi had once mistaken for a chauffeur—reappeared. He greeted them courteously and opened the door with care.

Chen Yi’s first instinct was the front passenger seat.

That’s how it always played out on TV.

Boss in the back, employee up front with the driver.

And what was she, anyway? Last time’s slip-up of sitting in the back with Xu Yan was one thing, but on official business? No way was she presuming to sit level with her boss. Chen Yi might lack Yu You’an’s wealth of social savvy, but she knew this much.

She reached for the passenger door.

Xu Yan stopped her. “Chen Yi.”

In the echoing garage, Xu Yan’s voice rang out sharp and clear. For just a second, Chen Yi zoned out, struck by the realization that Xu Yan’s voice was actually quite pleasant.

Chen Yi straightened up. “Yes!”

Xu Yan’s lips parted, as if to say more. Suddenly, headlights flashed through the dim space as a car sped out from behind Xu Yan. Chen Yi lunged forward, yanking Xu Yan close and shielding her between herself and the oncoming sports car, her back to it as it roared past.

Once the screeching tires and revving engine faded away, Chen Yi felt a chill on her back.

She looked down at Xu Yan. “Chief Editor, you okay?”

Xu Yan blinked, her gaze flickering before she looked away and shook her head. She nudged Chen Yi’s waist. Chen Yi stepped back at once, mortified. “Sorry, Chief Editor. I didn’t mean to—my bad.”

Xu Yan probably hated being that close to her.

“It’s fine,” Xu Yan said.

The driver, recovering from the scare, cursed. “Does that idiot even know how to drive? Who floors it in a garage like that!”

“Right?!” Chen Yi piled on. “What, rushing to a funeral? Total maniac!”

“It’s okay,” Xu Yan replied calmly. As the one who’d nearly been hit, she seemed the least fazed. “Chen Yi, come here.”

She’d been too close a moment ago, now too far.

Chen Yi edged closer to Xu Yan, heart pounding, unsure what was coming.

Closer now, Xu Yan instructed, “Arms up.”

Chen Yi raised her hands to shoulder height, like passing through airport security.

“Pardon the intrusion.” Xu Yan’s hand went to Chen Yi’s waist before she could dodge. Her fingertips brushed Chen Yi’s gray shirt—a simple, basic style. The fabric was thin, and Chen Yi felt the pressure and warmth of her touch clearly through it.

The motion was gentle, trailing like a feather across her waist before lifting the hem. She tugged the waistband of Chen Yi’s pants open just a bit.

Chen Yi’s face burned crimson, her voice turning soft and watery.

“Chief Editor—”

What was this?!

Power harassment?!

Xu Yan’s fingers slipped inside along the gap, flipping Chen Yi this way and that like a tailor as she tucked in the shirt and straightened the belt.

“There.” Xu Yan stepped back, eyeing her handiwork with approval. “Much sharper now.”

Chen Yi blinked. “…?”

She looked down. The shirt was neatly tucked, the folds artfully smoothed—even if just a small detail, her reflection in the car’s tinted window showed a definite style upgrade.

“No dress code for you usually,” Xu Yan said. “But not today.”

“Put this on too.” She pulled a delicate moon-shaped brooch from her bag.

Chen Yi’s mind went foggy.

Xu Yan dangled it. “Need help?”

Chen Yi shook her head frantically and took it with both hands.

No way.

If Xu Yan pinned it on herself, wouldn’t her fragile little chest fall victim to the Female Demon Head’s wrath?

“Thanks, Chief Editor Xu.” Chen Yi thanked her obsequiously, clipping it on with a couple of clicks.

Xu Yan frowned, unable to resist reaching over to adjust the angle.

It was a beautiful brooch, black and silver with an interlocking design that evoked a slender crescent moon from afar, dangling with unique gemstones.

Chen Yi stared, the sight oddly familiar, though she couldn’t place it.

“Let’s go,” Xu Yan said.

Chen Yi started toward the front again, but Xu Yan cut in. “You want me discussing work with you across the partition?”

Chen Yi broke out in a sweat. “Of course not.”

She opened the rear door. “After you, Chief Editor Xu.”

Xu Yan slid in, and Chen Yi followed, pressing herself against the right-side door. She sat ramrod straight, as if the armrest between them was an uncrossable divide.

Xu Yan didn’t mind. Once settled, she pulled out a tablet and handed it to Chen Yi. “We’re meeting a designer shortly. That’s her info—give it a look.”

Chen Yi took it. “Chief Editor, what do I need to do?”

Xu Yan considered. “Just follow my lead.”

Chen Yi beamed inwardly. “Got it!”

The car pulled out and headed into the city outskirts.

The designer’s home was in a suburban villa. They passed through crowded streets and bustling districts, entering quieter countryside.

Towering buildings gave way to tall trees and fields—some overgrown, some thriving.

Further on lay a stretch of rural estates.

“I’m going!”

Xu Yan, who had been resting with her eyes closed, opened them and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Isn’t this just fate?”

Chen Yi pointed straight ahead. Right there in front of the windshield, parked along that rural roadside, sat the very sports car that had sped through the underground garage in violation of the rules—and was suspected of deliberately trying to ram them.

“Is stepping in dog shit on the road fate too?” Xu Yan said coldly.

Chen Yi paused for a second, then burst out laughing.

The two women were just climbing out of the car when the luxury sports car’s owner emerged. He was a slickly dressed man who, upon spotting Xu Yan, flashed what he clearly thought was a suave smile and sauntered over. “Chief Editor Xu, long time no see.”

Xu Yan’s disgust was plain to see, but she said nothing.

Trailing behind Xu Yan, Chen Yi thought to herself: Now there’s a story!