The building was quieter than usual that morning.
It was not early enough to explain the calm, nor late enough to justify it. Just one of those mornings when the usual rhythm felt slightly off, as if the city itself had paused between breaths.
Shen Yuqi noticed it as soon as she walked into the lobby.
The security guard nodded at her. Someone laughed softly near the reception desk. The sound echoed more than it should have.
She slowed near the elevators without thinking.
The doors opened.
Li Wei stood inside.
Alone.
For a moment, neither of them moved. The space felt different without the buffer of other people—too open, too quiet, too aware of itself.
She stepped in.
"Morning," she said.
"Morning."
The doors closed.
The elevator rose.
Without the crowd, there was no reason to stand apart. No excuse to angle her body sideways. No external force dictating distance.
And yet, they did not move closer.
They stood where they always did.
Opposite corners. Neutral. Balanced.
Shen Yuqi kept her gaze forward. She was aware of him in the way one becomes aware of a mirror—not by looking, but by knowing it reflects.
At the fifth floor, the elevator slowed.
It did not stop.
Instead, it hesitated—just long enough to register as wrong.
Then it jolted.
Not violently. Just enough.
Her body reacted before her mind did. She shifted her weight instinctively, one foot stepping back to stabilize herself.
Her heel brushed against something solid.
Li Wei's shoe.
She froze.
The contact was indirect, barely there, but undeniable.
She stepped forward immediately.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"It's fine," he replied.
His voice was steady. Too steady.
The elevator resumed its ascent.
He adjusted his stance—subtly, deliberately—creating more space between them than before.
She noticed.
The rest of the ride passed without incident. When the doors opened at her floor, she stepped out.
"Have a good day," he said.
"You too."
She didn't look back.
At her desk, Shen Yuqi tried to focus.
She sorted emails. Reviewed documents. Responded to a request from finance. The work was familiar, grounding.
Still, something unsettled her—not the contact itself, but what followed.
He had stepped back.
Not reflexively. Not awkwardly.
Consciously.
As if he were correcting something before it could exist.
By midmorning, she was sent upstairs with a folder that needed Li Wei's signature. It wasn't unusual. She'd done it before.
What was different was the quiet.
The executive floor always felt removed from the rest of the building, but today it seemed especially still. Carpet muffled her footsteps. The air smelled faintly of coffee and polished wood.
His assistant nodded her through.
Li Wei stood by the window when she entered, his back to the door. The city stretched out below him, blurred by haze.
She cleared her throat softly.
He turned.
"Yes?"
"These need your approval," she said, handing him the folder.
He took it. Their hands did not touch.
He skimmed the documents quickly, flipping through pages with efficient movements. She waited, her posture relaxed but attentive.
"You organized this well," he said without looking up.
"Thank you."
He signed the last page and closed the folder.
As he handed it back, their fingers came close.
Close enough that she felt the air shift.
Close enough that she paused—just a fraction too long.
Li Wei withdrew his hand first.
Not abruptly.
Precisely.
"There you go," he said.
She took the folder. "Thanks."
She turned to leave.
"Yuqi."
She stopped.
"Yes?"
He hesitated.
Just long enough for her to feel it.
"Be careful on the elevators," he said. "They've been unstable."
"I will."
She left.
In the hallway, she exhaled slowly.
That hesitation—that pause—had not been accidental.
It wasn't tension.
Not yet.
It was awareness.
At lunch, she sat with a colleague she hadn't spoken to much before. They talked about trivial things—deadlines, weather, office gossip that didn't quite reach scandal.
"Do you work closely with Mr. Li?" the colleague asked casually.
"Sometimes," Shen Yuqi replied.
"He's… intimidating."
She smiled politely. "He's professional."
"That's one word for it."
The conversation moved on.
But Shen Yuqi found herself thinking: professional doesn't mean distant.
That afternoon, a sudden downpour trapped most employees inside the building. Windows streaked with rain, the city dissolving into gray.
She stood near the vending machines, debating whether she wanted tea or coffee, when someone stopped beside her.
Li Wei.
"You're blocking the buttons," he said lightly.
"Oh—sorry."
She stepped aside.
He selected a drink, then paused.
"Tea?" he asked.
"Yes."
He pressed the button again.
The machine hummed.
When the cup dropped, he picked it up and handed it to her.
Their fingers brushed.
This time, it wasn't an accident.
It was brief. Polite. Entirely deniable.
But it happened.
She met his eyes for the first time that day.
"Thank you," she said.
He nodded.
Then—immediately—he stepped back.
Too far.
The space between them widened unnaturally.
She noticed.
He noticed that she noticed.
Neither commented.
That evening, the rain had eased into a drizzle. She left later than planned, again. The day had stretched without her realizing it.
At the elevator, she hesitated.
Then stepped in.
Li Wei joined her a moment later.
They stood in silence as the doors closed.
"Long day," he said.
"Yes."
A pause.
"You handled the revisions well," he added. "The board noticed."
She blinked, surprised. "Thank you."
He inclined his head slightly. "You earned it."
The elevator descended smoothly.
No jolts.
No excuses.
Just space.
Too much of it.
When the doors opened at the lobby, they walked out together.
Outside, the air was cool and clean, washed by rain. Streetlights reflected off the pavement.
"You heading home?" he asked.
"Yes."
He nodded. "Take care."
"You too."
She watched him walk away before turning toward the subway.
On the train, Shen Yuqi replayed the day—not obsessively, but thoughtfully.
The almost-touch at the elevator.
The deliberate distance afterward.
The tea.
The retreat.
It wasn't inconsistency.
It was control.
At home, her brother was sprawled on the couch, textbooks open but untouched.
"You look like you're thinking too hard," he said.
She smiled faintly. "Maybe."
"About work?"
"Yes."
That wasn't a lie.
Later, lying in bed, Shen Yuqi stared at the ceiling.
She understood something now—not emotionally, but intuitively.
Li Wei was not avoiding her.
He was pacing himself.
And, somehow, that restraint made everything feel more real.
Because if he was stepping back on purpose…
Then he was already aware of how close they could stand.