Shen Jinghan · chat.title

At ten-thirty in the morning, the floor-to-ceiling windows of the high-rise office building looked out over a dazzling panorama of steel, concrete, and the waters of Victoria Harbour. The air conditioning was running full blast, and the rhythmic clicking of keyboards rose and fell in waves. Clacking briskly down the corridor in her stiletto heels, the floor manager clapped her hands together. Her voice wasn't particularly loud, but it crackled with tension: "Look sharp, everyone! The big boss is dropping by on an inspection shortly. Tidy up your desks and make sure everything's in proper order!" The office fell dead silent for half a second before erupting into a flurry of muted commotion. The atmosphere was usually pretty relaxed; right now, several young women at neighboring cubicles were already discreetly sliding open their drawers, pulling out cushion compacts and lipsticks to touch up their makeup against the glare of their computer screens. "Is he really coming in? I heard he almost never shows up here." "Tell me about it! Quick, lend me a lipstick first..." Right on cue, a crisp "ding—" echoed from the elevator lobby. Several department managers and supervisors had already assembled outside the automatic glass doors, plastered with fawning smiles. The elevator doors slid open to both sides, and a tall, commanding figure stepped out. Shen Jinghan was practically radiating a visible field of low pressure today. He was in a foul mood. For one thing, the moment he opened his eyes this morning, a certain heartless someone sent a WeChat message reading, "Heading to work today, gonna be super busy, will reply later," completely leaving him hanging. For another, before he could even process the sting, his old man's barrage of frantic calls had come bombarding in. The elder roared through the phone with roaring vitality, lambasting him for loafing around Macau's casinos all day instead of doing real work, and ordering him to haul his ass back to the corporate headquarters for two months to pull himself together. The old man had high blood pressure, and terrified of actually sending his father to the ICU, Jinghan had no choice but to drag his handsome, scowling face and a heavy cloud of morning grumpiness all the way into the office. "Mr. Shen, good morning. The office has already been prepared to your usual preferences..." A manager was guiding the way beside him, treading on eggshells. With one hand shoved casually into his trouser pocket, Shen Jinghan took long, loose strides. The only response that slipped from his nose was a frigid, low grunt: "Mm." The crowd bustled around him, ushering him toward the CEO's office. Sitting at your cubicle, you peered over the partition, catching only a fleeting glimpse of his silhouette against the bright backlight. The man possessed remarkably broad shoulders. His dark charcoal-gray jacquard blazer was impeccably tailored, worn over an open-collared black shirt with two buttons casually undone. Staring at that figure sauntering past, your fingertip hovered over the mouse, and you froze for a split second. ...Wait, why does that jacket look so familiar? Just last night before bed, the person on the other end of WeChat had sent you a mirror selfie. The guy in the photo was wearing an identical jacquard suit with that exact distinct cut, collar slightly askew, whining clingily: [Looking good? If it looks good, I'll wear it for you tomorrow.] You thought to yourself: ...Must just be the same brand, right? ... In the blink of an eye, it was twelve noon. The pantry was filled with the rich, inviting aroma of freshly brewed coffee. You had just prepared a hot cup using a pour-over drip bag, poured in half a carton of fresh milk and two sugar cubes, and swirled it gently into a creamy, luscious latte. You grabbed a paper napkin to place under the mug, and just as you reached out to pick it up— Out of nowhere, a long, clean hand entered your field of vision. With distinct knuckles, a sleek, cold mechanical watch clasped around the left wrist bone, and a raw-textured silver band ring on the index finger. That hand smoothly bypassed your fingertips, beating you to the punch, and firmly took hold of your ceramic mug. You stiffened and looked up. The man stood against the light by the ice maker, a full head and a half taller than you. A faint scent of crisp cedarwood and cool peppermint candy lingered around him. His hair was casually disheveled, and his eyes still carried the drowsy irritation and fatigue of someone who hadn't slept enough. Without missing a beat, he raised your mug to his lips and took a long swig. His Adam's apple bobbed. Lowering his gaze to cast you a glance, his voice came out in a low, naturally entitled drawl: "Appreciate it. The black coffee those folks outside brewed is more bitter than bitter gourd. Scanned the whole company, and yours was the only place with a proper latte." Before the words had even completely faded, he was already striding lazily out of the pantry with your coffee in hand, leaving you with nothing but his tall, aloof back. You: "???..." You looked down at your empty hands, then over at the empty milk carton you hadn't even had the chance to toss out yet, and took a deep breath. Fine. The big boss snatching an employee's coffee. Rank trumps all. Resigned to your fate, you tore open a second pour-over pack, rinsed another mug, and poured the milk all over again. Ten minutes later, the lunch break officially began, and half the lights across the entire floor dimmed. You retreated to your cubicle cradling your newly brewed coffee, propped a cushion behind your back, and picked up your phone from the desk to swipe open the screen. On the WeChat interface, a chat with a little fox avatar and the contact name [Babe] sat pinned at the top, showing a red unread notification badge. You tapped into the pinned chat. A two-minute-old voice note was waiting for you, accompanied by an intensely pitiful, sulking cat meme: 『Baby, haven't you gone on your lunch break yet? Today has been pure misery for me, the old man forced me to sit in prison at the company... I can't even get a decent cup of coffee to drink. Are you off work yet? I really, really want to hear your voice.』