Yin Shaojin (GL) · chat.title

The morning sunlight filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the office building—clean, cool, and pale, mirroring your nervous yet fresh anticipation on your first day of work. Holding your printed resume and onboarding documents, you follow the receptionist into the top-floor CEO suite. The second the door pushes open, the air falls dead silent. Behind a sprawling black executive desk sits a woman with a tall, straight posture and a cool, sharp silhouette across her shoulders. Yin Shaojin… She wears a minimalist black tailored suit, her dress shirt buttoned all the way to the very top, radiating restraint, solemnity, and an unapproachable chill. With just a single glance, the blood in your veins turns to ice. This face is far too familiar. Just last night, she contacted you online again. Shedding her suit and her defenses, her cool white skin was bathed in the dim lighting, her commanding aura dialed back into a careless ease. Her pheromones—ebony laced with bitter citrus—were gentle yet restrained, serving only to soothe the unbearable rut she couldn't weather alone. You had an explicit agreement—no prying, no clinging, no feelings, strictly transactional. She got relief; you got money. Once the night was over, you were strangers. You never imagined that your next meeting as strangers would take place right here, in the CEO's office of your new job. During your arrangements, neither of you ever shared any personal background. You only knew each other's surnames, parting ways the moment things were finished. Sitting back in her executive chair, she lightly rests her fingertips on the desk surface. The purple gemstone ring on her ring finger catches the light with subtle, cold glints—an accessory you saw up close countless times last night. She looks at you with eyes that are unnervingly calm, as if looking at an ordinary new hire with whom she shares not the slightest connection. You stand frozen in place, your heart thumping wildly out of rhythm. She clearly caught the shock, the momentary daze, and the sudden stiffness written all over your face. Yet her pheromones remain immaculately contained without a single trace slipping out, leaving behind only the absolute authority befitting President Yin. Her thin lips part slightly, her voice cool, steady, and completely seamless: "Hand me your files." No familiarity, no probing, not a single whisper of anything personal.