Chapter 11 Day Three
The workday was still rainy.
The overcast office gave a deceptive impression of being bright and clean once the lights were turned on.
Wen Bairan had joined a team partway through and had a lot of materials to familiarize herself with. Fortunately, Qiao Yi had already filled her in on a lot, and with her help, these tasks weren't too difficult.
Song Xu’s secretary had also been replaced.
She was a young new hire, fresh out of college. She had interned at the company during her senior year and seemed to be some relative of the manager—in any case, she was already familiar with the place.
Before the meeting, the girl was in the office trying to set up the projector but struggling with it for a while. Everyone had arrived, and seven or eight pairs of eyes were fixed on her. She was sweating from nerves, not even wiping it away, her movements growing increasingly flustered. As the meeting time approached, she looked up in embarrassment, her pleading, deer-like eyes pitifully scanning the room, but no one seemed willing to lend a hand.
In a way, she was suffering guilt by association. The manager had a poor reputation in the company, known for being a snob. In the past, when he was the top dog, people would have eagerly curried favor with him. But this group consisted of seasoned veterans who had weathered many storms. Ever since they learned Song Xu had arrived and the manager’s authority had been downgraded, they stopped taking him seriously, especially not this connected newcomer.
Qiao Yi also mentioned the girl had no tact. That morning, while delivering coffee, she had spilled some on Song Xu’s tie. After leaving his office, instead of feeling remorseful, she blushed like she’d been flirted with. Qiao Yi held up her index, middle, and ring fingers, her expression a mix of amusement and mockery, saying, "Thanks to this girl, Master Song has already had three cups of black coffee today."
No sooner had she finished speaking than Song Xu pushed the door open.
Wen Bairan’s first glance went to his open collar—sure enough, he wasn’t wearing a tie.
As if unaware of her gaze, Song Xu’s expression remained calm and aloof. His steps were steady as he pulled out the top chair without glancing around. "Let’s begin."
His businesslike tone was cold to the point of ruthlessness.
Wen Bairan felt an unexpected chill in her heart, yet strangely reassured.
He truly meant what he said.
He kept bed and work separate, personal and professional.
She had initially worried he might be too caught up in what happened at night, unable to detach himself during the day, and that others might notice something amiss.
It seemed she had overthought it.
"This ought to be good," Qiao Yi whispered gleefully beside her.
Wen Bairan focused again and glanced at the intern, who wore a troubled expression, her delicate face glistening with sweat as if she were on the verge of tears.
"Mr. Song... I’m sorry, the projector seems... broken."
Song Xu opened his laptop, his tone indifferent. "If it’s broken, call someone to fix it."
The intern thought he was cutting her some slack and gratefully responded, "Ah, I’ll go find Engineer Li right away—"
"You could have said 'right away' before the meeting started. But now it’s too late." Song Xu signaled Qiao Yi to email the presentation materials to everyone, and Qiao Yi immediately complied.
In that brief gap of less than a minute, Song Xu rested his chin on his clasped hands, his sharp eyelids lifting slightly. His cold gaze made the intern shiver involuntarily.
Any gratitude or excitement she had felt vanished instantly.
"I’m... I’m sorry..."
"To my knowledge, this isn’t your first day. But I can understand that newcomers are prone to mistakes." His words sounded tolerant, but the harshness revealed itself in the next moment. "However, unfortunately, my tolerance for errors among my subordinates is zero. Please inform HR that I need a new secretary."
The intern’s face turned deathly pale. "Mr. Song, but I’ve only just—" been on the job for less than three hours.
The meeting room was silent except for the notification sound of someone’s computer receiving an email.
Song Xu casually loosened his left hand and returned his attention to his laptop. As he opened the email, he seemed to remember something. "Oh, right."
"Tell your successor that coffee is no longer allowed in my office."
"Thank you."
Thank you...
Such polite words.
Yet coming from his mouth, they sounded strangely sarcastic.
He hadn’t directly accused or criticized her, but the mockery and unquestionable authority in his words made the intern’s pale face flush bright red. Qiao Yi couldn’t hold back a snicker, and the girl’s expression instantly darkened further. Earlier, her face had been fresh and dewy; now, it seemed as if blood might drip from it.
Too humiliated to stay, she covered her face with tears in her eyes and turned to flee.
But Song Xu spoke again: "No one enters or leaves arbitrarily during my meeting time. Take a seat and stay put. You can go to HR after we’re done."
First humiliation, then cutting off her escape.
In this situation, every second spent in the meeting room was agony. If it were Wen Bairan, she would have left long ago, regardless of who was in charge.
But this intern had likely been warned by the manager that Song Xu was the top authority in the company, or perhaps his frosty attitude was too intimidating. She didn’t dare defy him outright and could only swallow her grievances, sitting silently in a corner and enduring the demon’s orders.
Throughout the entire meeting, the girl’s face cycled through pale, red, green, and back to pale. When it finally ended, Song Xu shut his laptop, and she bolted out of the meeting room immediately.
Wen Bairan couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for her.
Qiao Yi whispered, "That’s just how Master Song is. No matter how handsome he is, his heart is cold as ice, and his words are even sharper. You have no idea how I survived the past two months."
Wen Bairan turned to her with a look that said she now felt sorry for her too.
As the two finished packing up and stood to leave, a steady breeze brushed past Wen Bairan from behind.
"The new one, come to my office."
The new one?
Who?
Hadn’t the intern already left?
Wen Bairan glanced around the meeting room in confusion, only to find everyone looking at her.
…It dawned on her belatedly that she was the one being summoned.
Now it was Qiao Yi’s turn to sympathetically pat her shoulder. "Go on, friend. I’ll remember to burn joss paper for you."
"…"
"…"
The office door was open, but the privacy blinds on the glass were drawn.
Before even stepping inside, Wen Bairan caught a faint, bitter scent of coffee, followed by the dry warmth of Song Xu’s jacket.
On the coat rack beside her hung a black suit and a dark blue tie.
The lower half of the tie was deeply stained—whether the coffee mark would remain so obvious after drying was uncertain.
Song Xu was replying to emails without even looking up. "Close the door."
Wen Bairan complied, taking two steps forward but still keeping some distance from his desk.
"What instructions do you have, Mr. Song?"
Song Xu’s fingers, poised over the keyboard, paused mid-air. His knuckles were distinct, the curve of his joints soft yet sharp, with veins subtly tracing the back of his hand, suggesting a masculine vigor. The diamond accents on his luxurious wristwatch gleamed discreetly.
Wen Bairan unconsciously found herself mesmerized by his hands, a hazy memory arose of those cool, powerful fingers touching her in intimate places.
Her thighs clenched on their own.
Unaware of her distraction, Song Xu focused on how she had addressed him. "I have a meeting this afternoon and need a tie."
Wen Bairan remained composed. "Shall I have someone buy one? Or have this one dry-cleaned? Since time is short, buying a new one might be a safer bet."
"Alright." He stood up and walked around the desk.
In two long strides, he was right in front of her, leaning in close. A cold sweat broke out on Wen Bairan's skin at his sudden proximity.
He gave a faint, ambiguous smile. "But I still prefer the one from this morning."
Silver-blue with a subtle pattern, smooth satin texture, simple and understated—it matched his shirt perfectly.
Most importantly,
she had tied it for him herself that morning.
In the executive suite, Song Xu stood adjusting his tie in the mirror. His lead-gray shirt accentuated his tall, sharp silhouette. The loosely knotted tie, not in any conventional style, hung limply around his neck, giving off a disheveled, decadent vibe.
On a whim, Wen Bairan had offered to tie it for him.
She was half-kneeling on the bed with slender, smooth legs exposed, her towel barely staying in place, she seemed completely unaware.
Song Xu tilted his head slightly, his gaze drifting to her snow-white shoulders and neck, with the elegant lines of a swan. Her collarbones were exquisitely shaped like two jade ruyi scepters, looking warm and smooth to the touch. At the center was a tiny red mole, alluringly vivid in the shadows.
His Adam’s apple bobbed, brushing against her fingers.
She didn’t notice.
His dark eyes lifted, only to find her lost in thought.
What was she thinking about?
Back in college, Wen Bairan had taken an etiquette class where she specifically learned how to tie a tie. Back then, she used to imagine that every morning, she would wake up early to make breakfast. Zhou Lin liked to sleep in, and just before heading out, he’d realize he’d forgotten to put on a tie. She would step in to quickly fix it for him, and he’d be so touched he’d lean down to give her a kiss, their love glowing warmly in the morning light: "Wait for me to come back."
This fantasy had once filled her with both embarrassment and anticipation—embarrassment at how cheesy it was, and hope that maybe one day it would come true.
Ke Shumin called her a hopeless romantic. She denied it, pretending everyone was the same—what girl in love hasn’t imagined a future with their partner?
But Zhou Lin never held a job and rarely wore formal attire. Before she could turn her fantasy into reality, she quickly woke up to the fact that in relationships, the one who envisions the future first is often the most pitiful.
Fortunately, she reined herself in just in time.
Perhaps it was because she had no feelings for Song Xu.
None of the warm, ambiguous emotions she once associated with tying a tie emerged.
Relying on her memory of how to tie a Windsor knot, Wen Bairan focused intently on manipulating the silver-blue strip, serious as if completing an assignment.
Once finished, she looked up to find Song Xu’s cold eyes still shrouded in dark desire.
She froze. "What?"
Her blank, clueless expression looked utterly innocent.
Song Xu thought she must have a memory problem—forgetting the rules they’d established just hours ago.
"Nothing." He disliked repeating himself. Turning away from the bed, distancing himself from her scent and presence, the man before the mirror wore an aloof, almost cruel expression.
"Don’t be late." He left the room without looking back.
And now, Song Xu’s expression was exactly the same as when she’d tied his tie that morning.
Dark eyes, calm breath, but fierce beneath the surface.
She had experienced it before.
Once was enough to leave a lasting impression.
Wen Bairan couldn't straighten her back, her shoulders shrinking as she leaned away. Her voice, lowered, was anything but calm. "Mr. Song, we’re at the company."
Song Xu didn’t move. "So?"
So you should show some restraint!
What if someone walks in and sees us this close? How would we explain it?
Wen Bairan frowned, her face turned toward the door, alert to any movement outside. The line of her clenched jaw still looked soft and yielding to him, her waist arched almost into a C-shape.
Song Xu suddenly found her current state amusing.
Afraid, nervous, unwilling to yield, yet lacking confidence—like a balloon both inflating and deflating, entirely at his mercy.
Of course, not in the office.
Abruptly, he smiled, straightening up and putting distance between them. The air and light dispelled the tangled atmosphere between them.
Wen Bairan let out a silent sigh of relief.
"Get it dry-cleaned. Bring it back before three." Having given his orders, Song Xu returned to his desk and immersed himself in work, once again the unapproachable Mr. Song.
"..."
Feeling teased and humiliated, Wen Bairan pressed her lips together, turned around, snatched the tie forcefully, and slammed the door on her way out.
The man at the computer allowed a slight smile to touch his lips.