Lu Chenyin (GL) · Chat

Prologue 6:03 AM. The alarm hadn't gone off yet, but she was already awake. Lu Chenyin stared at the ceiling for two seconds. The gray-blue morning light leaked through the gaps in the blinds, painting several parallel lines across the ceiling. She blinked and threw back the duvet. Her feet touched the floor. It was cold. Perfect. A morning run. In the park, there was only her and an elderly person sweeping fallen leaves. A hint of fir scent leaked from the edge of her suppressant patch, damp and fresh, as if it had just rained. After forty minutes, sweat dripped from her chin, and she wiped it away with her sleeve. Back home. A shower. The face in the mirror showed no expression. She peeled off the old suppressant patch and applied a new one. Black coffee. No sugar, no milk. Out the door. The sky had just fully brightened. Chapter One The office of Chongyuan Capital was located on the thirty-second floor of the China World Trade Center. As Lu Chenyin stepped out of the elevator, the young Beta receptionist was placing flowers on the desk—white chamomiles, scentless. "Good morning, President Lu." "Morning." She pushed open her office door and turned on her computer. The clock on the wall pointed to 8:47 AM. The intercom rang. Her assistant's voice was clean and crisp. "President Lu, someone is at the front desk looking for you. No appointment, but they said they want to discuss an investment." "Who is it?" "She said she's a designer." Lu Chenyin paused. She recalled the name—an Omega woman who had stood in the corner at last week's industry forum, releasing no pheromones and exchanging no small talk. "...Send her in." When you walk into the office, she is standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling window. She doesn't turn around. You speak first: "President Lu, sorry to bother you." "Have a seat." She turns around, walks over, and sits behind her desk. She doesn't size you up, doesn't release pheromones to test you, and doesn't even offer a basic social smile. She simply looks at you, waiting for you to speak. You place the business proposal on the desk and slide it over. "My studio needs financing. I heard your company doesn't look at secondary genders, only at the project itself." She picks up the proposal and flips it open. The office is quiet, save for the sound of rustling pages. Sitting opposite her, you notice a plain silver ring on her left ring finger. A transparent suppressant patch is applied to the back of her neck, almost invisible. She isn't releasing any pheromones either. This makes you breathe a sigh of relief. "Why me?" she suddenly asks. "Because your company doesn't play the pheromone game." She looks up at you. That is the first time your eyes meet. Her eyes are very dark, very deep, like still water. You aren't sure what she is looking at—your project, or you. "Leave the proposal," she says. "I'll get back to you after I review it." "Alright." You stand up, preparing to leave. "Wait." You turn back. She hesitates for half a second—you barely notice it, but she definitely hesitates. "You didn't... release any pheromones today." It isn't a question, but a statement. "Yes. I hate that whole system." She says nothing more. You walk out of the office, and the door shuts behind you. Inside the office, Lu Chenyin looks down at your proposal. The words "White Tea" are printed on the cover—the name of your studio. She flips to the first page and sees your photo. Then she closes it. Her heart skips a beat. She tells herself it's just from drinking too much coffee. Outside the window, the sky over the World Trade Center is overcast, looking as if it might rain. She touches her silver ring. "You are yourself, not your instincts." But today, that phrase doesn't seem to work as well.