Shen Rui walked out of the elevator with his usual composed stride, sleek and cold like the floor he stepped on. His team parted like shadows around him, bowing their heads, whispering updates, deadlines, reports.
She followed.
Barefoot.
Quiet, but not exactly subtle. Like a ghost who got bored of haunting and decided to audit a CEO instead.
"Is that girl… still here?" one intern whispered to another.
"She's not real," someone else muttered nervously.
Lin Xie didn't look at any of them. She didn't smile. Didn't greet. Her eyes scanned their faces one by one—disinterested, clinical. Like scanning targets in a hallway too quiet to trust.
She was only interested in one thing: the man walking exactly five feet ahead.
Shen Rui's ear twitched when he heard her steps still trailing. She hadn't said anything in twenty minutes. No wisecracks, no sarcasm.
That was somehow worse.
He turned sharply.
She stopped, standing in the middle of the hallway, blinking at him with absolutely no guilt.
"What," he said, voice low, annoyed, "do you think you're doing?"
"Following," she said, like it was obvious.
"I have work."
"I noticed."
"This isn't a zoo. Or a daycare. Or a spy movie."
"No," she said, tilting her head. "But you're fun to observe. The way you don't look at people. The way your left hand flexes when you lie. You filed a report two minutes ago and you're angry about it. Probably because it's wrong. Or it's fake."
He stared at her.
She stared right back, completely blank.
Like she didn't care what his reaction was.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, then barked over his shoulder, "Zhou."
His assistant—a young man with neatly styled hair and permanent anxiety in his eyes—rushed forward. "Yes, sir?"
"Take her to the spare unit downstairs."
"Yes, sir."
"Get her shoes. And clothes."
Lin Xie blinked. "Oh? You're dressing me now?"
Shen Rui didn't reply.
Zhou cleared his throat awkwardly. "Miss, uh… this way, please."
She followed the assistant, not protesting, but before turning the corner, she paused.
"Do you like black?" she asked Shen Rui.
He glanced at her, brows barely twitching. "Wear whatever doesn't make people think I've kidnapped you."
She nodded once. "So… black."
Then she vanished around the corner, leaving behind silence and tension like static on glass.
His staff waited.
Shen Rui turned back toward his office, sharp as a blade.
"She won't be staying long," he muttered to no one in particular.
But everyone knew he didn't believe that.
----
Shen Rui stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows of his office, city skyline glittering below like a thousand blinking distractions. His reflection stared back at him in the glass, unbothered, unreadable.
Behind him, the hum of the automated coffee dispenser filled the silence, followed by the soft clink of porcelain against marble as his assistant, Zhou Wen, carefully placed the cup on his desk.
"Zhou," Shen Rui said without turning around, voice calm but sharp enough to slice through steel.
"Yes, sir?" Zhou straightened, instantly alert.
"That girl."
Zhou blinked. "Lin Xie?"
"She said that name. Could be real. Could be made up. I don't care." Shen Rui turned slowly, his expression unreadable but eyes like ice. "Find out who she is."
Zhou hesitated. "Do you… have any information to go on, sir?"
Shen Rui's eyes narrowed. "She deactivated a high-level security drone with a paperclip and used a sticky note like it was part of the interface. She's barefoot in my car and somehow still got into a restricted floor of this building. Does that sound like someone who leaves a neat file behind?"
Zhou cleared his throat. "No, sir."
"Then make one." Shen Rui's tone dropped lower, cooler. "Find out everything you can. Official records, unofficial channels. Birth certificates, hospital records, school databases. Use facial recognition if you have to. Check with military archives, tech firms, even underground networks."
Zhou nodded, already pulling out his tablet. "Understood."
"She's not normal," Shen Rui added, more to himself this time.
"Should I alert the security division?" Zhou asked cautiously.
"No." The answer was immediate. Final.
Zhou blinked. "No, sir?"
"She's not a threat. Yet."
He didn't explain further.
Zhou hesitated before adding, "She said something odd earlier. About being… an improved model."
Shen Rui's jaw tightened.
"She's either delusional," he said, "or she's telling the truth."
Zhou swallowed, his fingers flying over the screen. "I'll prioritize encrypted and classified channels."
"Quietly," Shen Rui added. "Don't flag her."
Zhou hesitated. "Why not?"
"Because if she's what I think she might be…" Shen Rui turned his gaze back to the city, voice low, thoughtful. "There's no point poking a weapon that doesn't know it's supposed to be hiding."
Behind him, Zhou nodded and silently backed out of the office.
Shen Rui stood alone for a long moment.
Then he glanced toward the corner of the room—toward the security feed on a small, silent screen.
It showed a dim hallway. And in the middle of it, Lin Xie, now dressed in all black, her feet finally in shoes, was standing still, watching her own reflection in the mirror with an oddly thoughtful look.
Not admiring.
Just studying.
Like she was still trying to remember what kind of creature she'd been made to be.
Shen Rui watched the monitor longer than he meant to.
Lin Xie didn't move. She stood there, arms at her sides, head tilted ever so slightly at the mirror, like she wasn't sure whether the person staring back was her—or someone she'd just replaced. She didn't fidget. She didn't blink much. She didn't smile.
Gone was the smirk. Gone was the teasing tone, the glint in her eye when she pressed his buttons.
This Lin Xie looked… detached. Like something carefully engineered to mimic life, but still deciding whether it wanted to keep pretending.
Shen Rui finally turned away from the feed, lips pressed into a tight line.
He didn't like unsolvable puzzles.
He liked control.
But she—she didn't fit any known logic.
He sat back at his desk just as Zhou returned, tablet in hand, brows drawn.
"No official record under the name Lin Xie," Zhou said. "I ran the databases. Nothing came up. No ID. No school records, no medical footprint. Not flagged as a foreign national either. She doesn't exist."
Shen Rui arched a brow. "Everyone exists somewhere."
"I double-checked with three private background trace firms," Zhou continued. "Still nothing. Even the facial scan came up blank. No low-res matches. Not even in the dark net catalogues or obituaries."
Shen Rui leaned back slowly. "So she's either completely off-grid…"
"Or not from any grid we know," Zhou finished.
He didn't mean anything by it. Just a figure of speech. But Shen Rui paused.
His thoughts flicked back to the way she stared at everything. Curious. Not clueless—just… fascinated. Like she'd never seen elevators, or glass doors, or pigeons. Like she'd dropped into the world without context, and hadn't bothered faking it.
He thought about the way she'd dismantled a drone in under five seconds. With no tools. With no hesitation.
Not impossible. But extremely improbable.
"Could be a runaway," Zhou offered. "Off-the-record birth. Illegal experiment. Hidden identity. Blacklisted offspring—"
"She's not hiding," Shen Rui said sharply.
Zhou blinked.
"She walks like she's invincible. She talks like consequences are optional. She's not scared. She's bored."
Zhou hesitated. "Then… do you want me to escalate this?"
"No." Shen Rui's voice was even. "Let her be."
Zhou looked like he wanted to say more, but then the chime on the hall door went off—three soft beeps.
The handle turned.
The door creaked open.
And Lin Xie stepped in without knocking.
She wore black now—an outfit that almost fit her properly. Still barefoot, though, and still somehow radiating the chaotic calm of someone who didn't believe in rules.
"Nice carpet," she said, eyes flicking around his office. "Bit too clean. No history."
Zhou straightened, stiff. "Miss—this floor is off-limits."
She didn't even look at him. Just walked toward Shen Rui like no one else existed.
"So," she said casually, "did you find anything useful?"
Shen Rui didn't answer.
Zhou glanced at him.
Lin Xie turned slightly, just enough to let her eyes flick toward the assistant. "You type too loud. And too slow. You should try sleeping before 2AM. Your cortisol levels are a mess."
Zhou blinked. "I—what?"
She looked back at Shen Rui. "Do you always keep your people this stressed?"
He stood, silent.
"Are you going to keep following me?" he asked.
"I haven't decided yet."
"You're not curious about where you are? Or who I am?"
She shrugged. "I know where I am. And I'm starting to figure you out."
"You don't ask questions."
"You wouldn't answer them."
He studied her. "What do you want?"
"I already told you." Her voice turned cool, flat, strange. "I don't know yet."
Then she tilted her head the other way. "But when I do, you'll probably hate it."
She turned and walked out, her gait smooth, almost soundless, like she'd been trained to move without wasting a breath.
Zhou stared after her. "Sir… I've never seen anything like her."
Shen Rui watched the door close. The soft click echoed louder than it should've.
He said nothing.
But in his mind, one thought stayed.
Neither have I.