The mid-year reception was everything Horizon Group intended it to be.
Elegant. Controlled. Impressive.
The ballroom occupied the top floor of a luxury hotel overlooking the city, its glass walls revealing a sea of lights stretching endlessly into the distance. Crystal chandeliers hung like frozen constellations above the polished marble floor, their glow reflected in mirrored columns and tall windows. Soft classical music floated through the space, gentle enough not to intrude, refined enough to set the tone.
Employees arrived carefully dressed, voices restrained, movements measured. This was not a place for laughter that carried too far or gestures that drew attention. It was a place to be seen—but not noticed too much.
Liang Wei entered precisely on time.
He wore a black suit tailored to perfection, simple in design, severe in its restraint. He did not pause to survey the room; he never did. Still, the room reacted.
Conversations faltered for a fraction of a second, then resumed in softer tones. Postures straightened. Smiles sharpened.
He acknowledged greetings with brief nods, responding when addressed, never lingering longer than necessary. His presence reorganized the space effortlessly.
Women noticed.
They always did.
Some stood straighter as he passed. Others adjusted their dresses, smoothed their hair, subtly repositioned themselves along his path. Their smiles carried intention—carefully practiced warmth paired with deliberate proximity.
One woman from corporate planning approached him first, her dress elegant, neckline modest but intentional.
"CEO Liang," she said warmly, "it's good to see you in person."
"Thank you," he replied politely.
Another joined moments later, then another. Compliments followed—about his leadership, about how reassuring his presence was, about the company's strong direction.
They laughed lightly at his brief responses, filling the silence he left untouched.
Liang Wei disengaged with practiced ease.
Across the ballroom, Xiaoyu stood near the edge of the crowd.
Her navy dress was simple—knee-length, unadorned, chosen less to impress than to avoid mistake. Her hair was pinned back neatly, makeup light enough to feel almost unnecessary.
She felt out of place.
Not because of the people, but because of the performance.
She stayed close to her department, holding a glass of water with both hands, listening more than speaking. Lin Wei stood nearby, engaged in conversation with a senior manager. Mei Qian leaned close, whispering observations with amusement.
"Everyone's trying so hard," Mei Qian murmured.
Xiaoyu smiled faintly but didn't reply.
She watched quietly.
She saw how certain women timed their approach, how they angled themselves just enough to be noticed. How laughter came easily, how compliments were layered beneath casual remarks.
She didn't judge them.
She just didn't know how to do that.
At one point, an older HR colleague mentioned feeling dizzy. Xiaoyu immediately offered to walk her to a quieter area.
They moved away from the ballroom, heels echoing softly along the carpeted corridor. Halfway there, the woman slowed, then waved her hand dismissively.
"I'm better now," she said. "You should go back."
Xiaoyu hesitated. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, yes. Don't worry."
Xiaoyu nodded and turned back.
At the same moment, Liang Wei stepped into the same corridor.
He had needed distance. The constant attention had grown heavier, the air in the ballroom too warm, too filled with expectation.
The corridor was dimmer, quieter. The music faded into a distant murmur.
Then the lights went out.
The darkness arrived instantly, without warning.
No gradual dimming. No flicker.
One moment, Xiaoyu could see the outline of the walls.
The next, there was nothing.
She gasped.
Her heart slammed into her ribs as panic surged instinctively. Her hands reached out blindly, fingers brushing air.
"Hello?" she called, her voice thin despite her effort. "Is anyone here?"
"Yes."
The answer came close.
Tight.
Xiaoyu recognized the voice immediately.
"CEO Liang?" she asked softly.
"Yes," he replied. "Are you all right?"
"I… I think so," she said, though her breathing had turned shallow. "I can't see anything."
Neither could he.
The darkness pressed in on Liang Wei like a weight. His vision offered no reference point, no edge, no escape. The corridor ceased to exist, replaced by a void that dragged old instincts to the surface.
His pulse spiked.
He stood perfectly still, jaw clenched, fighting the involuntary tightening in his chest.
He had not expected this.
Xiaoyu heard the change before she understood it—the subtle unevenness in his breathing, the tension beneath the stillness.
She was afraid too.
Her fingers trembled, her thoughts racing uselessly. She had no idea what to do. She was just a new hire. She had no authority, no solution.
She hesitated.
Then she spoke.
"CEO Liang," she said quietly, her voice shaking despite her attempt to sound calm, "I'm here."
The words felt small. Insufficient.
But they were all she had.
There was a pause.
She wondered—confused, uncertain—why someone like him sounded like this. Why he wasn't moving. Why the silence felt so heavy.
But she didn't ask.
She knew better.
She took a cautious step forward, arms extended slightly, unsure what she would touch.
"I can't see," she admitted softly. "I might bump into you."
Her fingers brushed fabric.
Then his hand.
His grip closed around hers immediately.
It startled her.
His hand was firm, warm, gripping tightly—as if letting go were unthinkable.
Xiaoyu's heart raced.
She didn't pull away.
"It's okay," she said quickly, afraid he might realize how fast she was breathing. "We can just wait. Someone will notice."
She didn't know if that was true.
But she stayed.
Liang Wei focused on the contact—the unmistakable presence of another person. It anchored him, grounding the panic that threatened to surface.
His breathing slowed.
The darkness remained, but it no longer consumed him.
"I apologize," he said quietly.
Xiaoyu shook her head instinctively, forgetting he couldn't see.
"You didn't do anything wrong," she said. "It's just… sudden."
The silence stretched.
She felt awkward, unsure what to do with her other hand. Her legs ached slightly from standing still.
After a moment, she spoke again, hesitantly.
"If… if it helps," she said softly, "I can stay close. Until the lights come back."
He didn't answer immediately.
Then he stepped closer.
Not fully—but enough that she could feel the steady weight of his presence beside her.
Her body stiffened instinctively.
Unsure, she lifted her free arm and rested it lightly against his back. It wasn't a hug. It wasn't confident.
It was clumsy. Human.
She hoped she wasn't overstepping.
She hoped he wouldn't misunderstand.
The darkness lingered longer than she expected. Seconds stretched into minutes.
Then emergency lights flickered on, dim at first, then steady.
Xiaoyu blinked, eyes watering from the sudden brightness.
The moment ended immediately.
Liang Wei stepped back, releasing her hand.
His expression was calm once more—composed, distant, as if nothing had happened.
Security arrived moments later, apologizing profusely.
"CEO Liang, are you all right?"
"Yes," he replied evenly. "There was no issue."
They escorted him back into the ballroom.
Attention surged instantly.
Concerned voices. Sympathetic smiles. Women leaning closer, eyes bright with opportunity.
Xiaoyu slipped away quietly, returning to her department before anyone noticed she had been gone.
Mei Qian leaned toward her. "Where did you disappear to?"
Xiaoyu lowered her gaze. "Just… helping someone."
Across the room, Liang Wei glanced once in her direction.
She was seated beside Lin Wei, posture modest, expression unchanged.
No pride. No expectation.
Later that night, alone in his office, Liang Wei stood by the window.
He replayed the darkness—not the fear, but the moment someone had stayed without knowing what to do.
She had been afraid too.
Yet she had not left.
That mattered.
He turned off the light.
And this time, the dark did not close in.
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