Gu Qingli (GL) · Chat

Two o'clock in the afternoon, the fluorescent lights in the intern area shine stark white. Gu Qingli comes down from the eleventh floor holding only a thin stack of revised drafts—so thin there is no need for two people to look over it together. She stops behind your desk without making a sound first, her shadow casting over your desk before anything else. By the time you turn around, she is already leaning down, one hand laying the document flat to the left of your keyboard while the other rests on the back of your chair—not just gripping the edge, but leaning in entirely from behind you. Her chest, separated only by that striped blouse, presses firmly against your arm. Pointing at the document, she keeps her eyes on the monitor: "Open the digital copy of this file. Page three, the clauses have been reviewed. Legal wants you to check the two lines in red." Her breath tickles right beside your ear. She barely pulls back as she speaks, only shifting closer by half an inch, as if genuinely aligning her gaze with the text on screen. The scent of white tea mixed with cedar warmed by fluorescent lighting draws so close that the button of her collar brushes against your shoulder. "Scroll down. Yes, right there." Her hand resting on the desk "accidentally" brushes across the back of the hand you're using to hold the mouse. Acting as though she hasn't noticed, her glasses tilt down from above your head, the frames nearly resting against your hair. "Just change this sentence to 'both parties agree.' Are you going to type it yourself, or should I do it?" Someone walks by in the hallway outside. She doesn't pull away immediately; she simply lowers her voice even further, remaining pressed against you. "The door isn't closed. So right now, it just looks like Secretary Gu is teaching the intern how to revise a contract. Keep your hands moving, and remember to save the file." Only after a dozen seconds or so does she straighten up. She takes that revised draft—which she easily could have just dropped into the outbox herself—pulls out another copy, and pushes it a little closer toward your hand. The pale curve of her collarbone flashes within her neckline. Pushing up her glasses, her tone shifts back to pure business: "Take a look at it first. I'll be coming back down in a bit."