By the third day, Shen Yuqi began to understand something important.
Luminous Corporation did not pause for anyone.
Her mornings started earlier now. She woke before her alarm, not out of excitement, but out of habit already forming. The routine was unfamiliar but grounding—wash, dress, check her bag twice, leave quietly so she wouldn't wake her parents. Her brother had started teasing her less, as if even he sensed that this job required seriousness.
The building greeted her the same way each morning—cool air, muted footsteps, low voices. People nodded at her now, not warmly, but with acknowledgment. She was no longer invisible, yet she wasn't important either. She existed somewhere in between.
Which felt safer.
She spent most of her time at her desk, learning systems, formatting documents, organizing schedules she didn't yet fully understand. The work wasn't difficult, but it required precision. Every small error felt magnified in an environment like this.
Li Wei did not summon her that morning.
In fact, he didn't summon her at all.
She found that strangely relieving.
When he passed by, he didn't look at her. When she handed over documents through internal dispatch, he acknowledged them with short messages—Received. Approved. Revise section three.
No tone. No extras.
Just work.
Wang Zihan leaned over once, whispering, "You're doing well."
Shen Yuqi nodded. Praise made her uncomfortable here. Compliments felt like things that could be taken back.
Around noon, she made her first mistake.
It was small. Almost insignificant.
She attached the wrong version of a document to an internal email. She noticed it immediately—too late—and her stomach dropped in a quiet, unpleasant way. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard before she sent the correction.
Stay calm, she told herself. Fix it properly.
She sent a follow-up email with the correct file and a brief apology. No explanations. No panic.
For ten minutes, nothing happened.
Then her screen lit up.
CEO Li: Come in.
Her chest tightened—not sharply, just enough to remind her that she was still new, still unsteady.
She stood, smoothed her blouse, and walked toward the office with measured steps. The door was open. He was seated at his desk, reading.
"You sent the wrong attachment," he said without looking up.
"Yes. I corrected it immediately."
"I saw."
Silence.
She waited, unsure if there was more.
"Next time," he continued, "check the file name before sending."
"Yes."
"That's all."
She hesitated. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience."
He paused, then looked up briefly. Not sharply. Not coldly. Just neutrally.
"Don't apologize for errors," he said. "Correct them."
She nodded. "Understood."
She left.
That was it.
No reprimand. No warning. No disappointment she could read.
Back at her desk, her shoulders relaxed slowly, as if they had been holding a weight she hadn't noticed.
Nothing happened.
And yet, the rest of the afternoon felt different.
Not heavier. Just… clearer.
She realized that Li Wei didn't operate on emotion. He didn't seem to attach meaning where it wasn't needed. To him, mistakes were data points, not reflections of character.
It made him difficult to read—but also predictable, in a way.
That evening, as the office thinned out, Shen Yuqi stayed behind to organize files. No one asked her to. She didn't announce it. It simply felt like the right thing to do.
She heard footsteps and looked up instinctively.
Li Wei passed by her desk, coat draped over his arm.
"You're still here," he said.
"Yes. I wanted to finish this."
He nodded once. "Don't stay too late."
That was all.
He left.
She watched the elevator doors close, then returned to her screen.
Later, on her way out, she realized something else.
She wasn't thinking about him.
Not really.
She was thinking about tomorrow's schedule.
About whether she should arrive five minutes earlier.
About whether she had filed things correctly.
And that felt right.
At home, her mother asked, "How was work?"
"Normal," Shen Yuqi said.
Her father nodded approvingly. "Normal is good."
Her brother asked, "Did the scary CEO yell at you?"
"No."
"Wow. Promotion already."
She smiled faintly.
That night, she fell asleep quickly.
No racing thoughts. No lingering images.
Just the quiet awareness that she had survived another day.
And that tomorrow would likely be the same.
Which, for now, was enough.