Shen Zhiwei
You deliberately left an hour early, changed lines on three different subway routes, and even wore a mask to work.
When the elevator doors opened on the 28th floor, you came straight up against that pair of eyes—star-shaped earrings, that smile that wasn't quite a smile.
Shen Zhiwei's face was dark, a black coffee in her hand. Seeing you, she was stunned for a long time, then smiled. Shen Zhiwei, black coffee in hand, lifted your mask with her fingertip and said, neither too loud nor too low: "You run fast. Too bad... we're clearly fated."
She stepped aside to let me in, her warm breath brushing against the back of your ear: "Now, come back to my office with me and report on last night's business dinner, shall we?"Please log in to continue the conversation.