The grand conference hall of the Imperial Hotel was filled with the city's most influential business elites. Crystal chandeliers cast a golden glow over marble floors, while waiters in black suits circulated with trays of champagne. In one corner of the opulent room, Xia Yuqing adjusted her glasses nervously, clutching a stack of documents to her chest.
"Mr. Ling is arriving," someone announced, and the murmuring crowd immediately parted like the Red Sea.
Yuqing stood on tiptoe to catch a glimpse of the legendary CEO of Ling Corporation. The moment he strode through the double doors, the air seemed to crackle with electricity. Ling Mohan stood a head taller than most men in the room, his broad shoulders filling out a tailored charcoal gray suit that probably cost more than Yuqing's annual salary. His sharp jawline and piercing eyes gave him an air of untouchable authority.
"Focus, Yuqing," she muttered to herself, remembering her mission to deliver the contract documents to her boss. She turned to grab a coffee from a passing waiter—just as Ling Mohan changed direction and walked straight toward her.
Time slowed. The coffee cup slipped from her fingers. Dark liquid arced through the air in what felt like slow motion before splashing across the pristine front of Ling Mohan's obviously expensive suit.
The entire room gasped. Silence fell like a guillotine.
Yuqing's blood turned to ice. She looked up into a pair of stormy eyes that promised retribution.
"Y-you..." Her voice failed as those obsidian eyes bored into her.
Ling Mohan glanced down at his ruined suit, then back at her face. When he spoke, his voice was deceptively soft, like velvet wrapped around steel. "Do you have any idea how much this suit costs?"
Yuqing swallowed hard. "I—I'm so sorry, Mr. Ling. It was an accident—"
"An accident," he repeated, his lips curling into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "How... convenient."
Her boss, Manager Li, materialized beside her, face pale. "Mr. Ling, please accept our deepest apologies. This is just an intern from our company—"
"I'm not an intern," Yuqing corrected before she could stop herself. "I'm a junior marketing specialist." She immediately regretted opening her mouth when Ling Mohan's eyebrow arched.
"Is that so?" He stepped closer, invading her personal space. Yuqing caught a whiff of his cologne—something dark and expensive with hints of sandalwood. "Then you should be able to afford the cleaning bill. Or perhaps..." His gaze traveled down her modest dress. "...compensation in other ways."
Heat rushed to Yuqing's cheeks. "I'll pay for the cleaning," she said firmly, refusing to be intimidated. "But I assure you, it was genuinely an accident."
For a long moment, Ling Mohan simply stared at her, as if trying to decipher some hidden meaning behind her words. Then, to everyone's shock, he shrugged out of his jacket and handed it to her. "Very well. You'll personally ensure this is restored to perfection. And since your carelessness has cost me time, you'll compensate by serving as my temporary assistant for the next two weeks."
"What?" Yuqing and Manager Li exclaimed simultaneously.
Ling Mohan's smile turned predatory. "Consider it... work experience." With that, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Yuqing holding the coffee-stained jacket like a condemned prisoner holding their death warrant.
---
The elevator ride to the top floor of Ling Corporation's headquarters was the longest thirty seconds of Yuqing's life. When the doors slid open, she was greeted by a sleek modern office where glass walls offered panoramic views of the city skyline.
A stern-looking secretary eyed her with barely concealed disdain. "You're the coffee girl?"
"Xia Yuqing," she corrected, straightening her posture. "I'm here to—"
"Mr. Ling is waiting." The secretary gestured toward a massive black door at the end of the hallway.
Taking a deep breath, Yuqing knocked.
"Enter." The deep voice sent an involuntary shiver down her spine.
Ling Mohan sat behind an expansive desk, his shirtsleeves rolled up to reveal muscular forearms. Without looking up from his documents, he said, "The dry cleaner's information is on the tablet. You'll go there during lunch."
Yuqing bristled at his commanding tone. "Mr. Ling, while I take full responsibility for the accident, I must protest being forced into—"
Finally, he looked up, and the intensity in his gaze stole her words. "Forced?" He leaned back in his chair. "You ruined a fifty-thousand-dollar suit. Consider yourself fortunate I'm not suing you."
"That suit is not worth fifty thousand," Yuqing blurted out, then immediately wanted to kick herself.
To her shock, Ling Mohan's lips twitched. "You know your menswear. Interesting." He stood and walked around the desk, stopping uncomfortably close. "Tell me, Xia Yuqing, why shouldn't I have you fired from your pathetic little job?"
Yuqing's hands clenched into fists at her sides. "Because that would be an abuse of power. And while you may be used to people trembling before you, I don't scare easily."
A beat of silence. Then Ling Mohan did something utterly unexpected—he laughed. It was a rich, deep sound that transformed his usually cold features. "You've got spirit. I'll give you that." He reached out and adjusted her lopsided name tag, his fingers brushing against her collarbone and sending an electric jolt through her system. "Very well. You'll work here for two weeks. Consider it... character building."
And just like that, Yuqing found herself trapped in a gilded cage with the most dangerous man in the city.
---
The first three days were hell. Ling Mohan was an exacting taskmaster, demanding perfection in everything from his coffee (black, no sugar, at precisely 85 degrees Celsius) to the formatting of his reports. He never praised, only criticized, and seemed to take particular pleasure in finding fault with Yuqing's work.
On the fourth day, while organizing files in his office after hours, Yuqing stumbled upon something unexpected—a framed photograph hidden in his desk drawer. It showed a much younger Ling Mohan standing in front of a dilapidated building that looked like an orphanage. His expression was completely different from the cold mask he wore now—vulnerable, almost hopeful.
"Curiosity killed the cat."
Yuqing nearly dropped the photo as Ling Mohan's voice cut through the silence. She turned to find him leaning against the doorway, his expression unreadable.
"I—I was just organizing—"
"That," he said, striding forward and snatching the photo from her hands, "is none of your business." His usual icy composure seemed fractured, revealing something raw beneath.
Yuqing surprised herself by not backing down. "You grew up in an orphanage?"
For a moment, she thought he might explode. Instead, his shoulders slumped almost imperceptibly. "The Xinghua Orphanage. Until I was twelve." He studied the photo with an expression bordering on wistful. "Then the Ling family took me in."
This unexpected vulnerability disarmed Yuqing completely. "I'm sorry for prying. It's just... you're not what I expected."
Ling Mohan carefully replaced the photo in the drawer. "And what did you expect?"
"A heartless tyrant," she admitted with a small smile.
To her astonishment, he chuckled. "Oh, I am that too." He moved closer, until she could see the gold flecks in his dark eyes. "But perhaps not entirely heartless."
A clap of thunder startled them both. Yuqing hadn't noticed the gathering storm outside. Another boom shook the windows, and she saw something remarkable—Ling Mohan flinched.
"You're afraid of thunder?"
His jaw tightened. "Don't be ridiculous."
But as the storm intensified, Yuqing noticed his breathing grow shallow, his hands clenching and unclenching. When a particularly loud thunderclap rattled the windows, he actually staggered back.
Without thinking, Yuqing reached out and took his hand. "It's okay," she said softly, as one might comfort a frightened child. "It's just noise."
Ling Mohan stared at their joined hands as if he'd never experienced human touch before. "When I was at the orphanage..." His voice was barely audible over the rain. "They used to lock disobedient children in the basement during storms."
Yuqing's heart ached. Without a word, she led him to the sofa and sat beside him, keeping hold of his hand. "You're not there anymore," she whispered. "You're safe."
For the rest of the storm, they sat in silence, her small hand anchored in his larger one. When the rain finally subsided, Ling Mohan seemed to come back to himself. He gently extracted his hand and stood, his usual composure returning like armor.
"Thank you," he said stiffly, not meeting her eyes. Then, as an afterthought: "You can leave early tonight."
Yuqing understood this was as close to an admission of vulnerability as Ling Mohan would ever allow himself. As she gathered her things, she caught him looking at her with an expression she couldn't quite decipher—something between gratitude and something far more dangerous.
---
The next morning, the office buzzed with gossip. Apparently, Ling Mohan had fired his longtime secretary for some minor infraction. When Yuqing arrived, she found a new nameplate on the desk outside his office: "Xia Yuqing—Executive Assistant."
She was still staring at it in shock when Ling Mohan emerged from his office. "Problem?" he asked, though the glint in his eyes suggested he knew exactly what she was thinking.
"This must be a mistake. I'm only supposed to be here temporarily—"
"I decide what's temporary," he interrupted. Then, in a lower voice meant only for her ears: "After last night... I find I prefer having you close."
Before Yuqing could process this, he handed her a file. "Review these contracts. I want your honest opinion."
It was the first time he'd asked for her input on actual business matters. As the days passed, Ling Mohan began seeking her advice more frequently, actually listening to her suggestions. The office staff watched this development with a mixture of awe and jealousy.
One evening, as Yuqing worked late preparing for an important meeting the next day, Ling Mohan surprised her by bringing dinner—takeout from her favorite Sichuan restaurant.
"How did you know I like this place?" she asked as he spread the containers across the conference table.
"I pay attention." He sat opposite her, rolling up his sleeves. In the soft glow of the office lights, he looked almost approachable. "You've been working hard. It's only fair I feed you."
They ate in comfortable silence, broken only by Yuqing's occasional comments about the contracts they were reviewing. At one point, she reached for the same document he was grabbing, and their hands brushed. Instead of pulling away, Ling Mohan turned his hand and gently interlaced their fingers.
Yuqing's breath caught. In the moonlight streaming through the windows, Ling Mohan's usually sharp features appeared softer, younger. He reached out with his free hand and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his fingertips lingering against her cheek.
"Xia Yuqing," he murmured, his voice rough. "What are you doing to me?"
Before she could respond, his phone rang. The spell broken, Ling Mohan glanced at the screen and his expression hardened. "I have to take this." He stood and walked to the other end of the office, his voice turning cold as he spoke to whoever was on the line.
When he returned, the vulnerable moment had passed. "I have to go," he said curtly, gathering his things. Then, almost as an afterthought: "Don't stay too late."
After he left, Yuqing sat in the silent office, her fingers touching the spot on her cheek where his hand had been. She realized with dawning horror that she was falling for the most unattainable man in the city—a man whose heart, if he even had one, was locked away behind walls higher than his office tower.
And the worst part? She wasn't sure she wanted to climb those walls anymore. She wasn't sure she could survive the fall...
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