The pressure did not arrive all at once.
It came in layers.
Xiaoyu noticed it first in the smallest things—details so minor they could easily be dismissed as coincidence. Her access to certain shared folders was suddenly restricted. Meeting invitations arrived minutes after discussions had already begun. Instructions contradicted one another, and when she asked for clarification, replies came hours too late to matter.
By midmorning, her desk phone rang.
"Xiaoyu," Supervisor Chen said without greeting. "Why weren't you present at the operations briefing?"
Her stomach dropped. "I didn't receive an invitation."
A pause. Then, cool disbelief. "Everyone else did."
"I checked my calendar," she said quickly. "There was nothing—"
"You need to take more responsibility," Chen interrupted. "This isn't school. We don't chase people."
The line went dead.
Xiaoyu stared at the phone, her fingers slowly curling into her palm.
Around her, the office moved as usual—chairs rolling, printers humming, keyboards tapping—but she felt distinctly separate from it now, as if an invisible barrier had been placed between her and everyone else.
At noon, a revised task list appeared in her inbox.
It was overwhelming.
Work that had once been divided among three people was now assigned solely to her, each item marked high priority, each deadline uncomfortably close. No explanation. No acknowledgment of the added load.
When she approached Team Lead Xu, he barely looked up from his screen.
"This wasn't discussed," Xiaoyu said carefully.
Xu sighed, annoyance flickering across his face. "We're understaffed. You're capable, aren't you?"
"Yes, but—"
"Then do it."
She returned to her desk, cheeks burning.
By afternoon, the whispers began again.
Not loud enough to confront. Just loud enough to hear.
"She's always staying late… maybe she's inefficient."
"Management wouldn't pressure her for no reason."
"She looks so fragile."
Fragile.
The word clung to her like something sticky and unpleasant.
She worked through lunch. Through the dull ache in her shoulders. Through the growing knot in her chest that made breathing feel deliberate instead of natural.
Yet no matter how hard she tried, something always slipped beyond her control.
A report she submitted came back marked with red comments—issues she had never been informed of. A client email she was supposed to reply to had already been answered… with information she had never seen.
By evening, Supervisor Chen called her into the small meeting room again.
"You're falling behind," he said bluntly.
"I stayed late every night this week," Xiaoyu replied, her voice quiet but steady. "I completed every task assigned to me."
"And yet," he said, folding his hands, "mistakes persist."
She clenched her jaw. "May I ask what standard I'm being measured against?"
Chen studied her for a moment.
"Higher ones," he said finally.
The answer settled heavily between them.
When she left the room, her legs felt unsteady.
She didn't know it, but several floors above, the pressure was being discussed in an entirely different tone.
Liang Wei stood by the window, the city spread out below him in cold precision. Glass buildings. Perfect lines. No room for weakness.
Behind him, his assistant, Shen Lu, hesitated.
"She's close to her limit," Shen Lu said carefully.
Liang Wei did not turn. "Not yet."
"You said you didn't want her hurt."
"I don't," he replied calmly.
"Then why escalate?" Shen Lu pressed. "She's just a new hire. She doesn't even know what she's being pushed out for."
Liang Wei's fingers tightened slightly against the glass.
"That's the point."
Shen Lu exhaled. "You're using the company to force her resignation."
"She needs to leave," Liang Wei said. "Cleanly. On her own."
"And your conscience?" Shen Lu asked quietly.
For the first time, Liang Wei turned.
His expression was controlled, but something dark flickered beneath it.
"She saw something she shouldn't have," he said. "She helped me without realizing it. And now, as long as she stays here, that knowledge stays connected to me."
"She doesn't even understand what she knows," Shen Lu argued.
"That doesn't matter," Liang Wei replied. "Others would understand. My enemies don't need certainty. They only need a thread."
Shen Lu fell silent.
Liang Wei looked away again, voice lowering. "If they realize I have a weakness—someone who saw me when I wasn't untouchable—they will use it. They will destroy her to get to me."
"So you destroy her first?" Shen Lu asked sharply.
Liang Wei closed his eyes.
"No," he said. "I make her leave alive. Unbroken. Able to start somewhere else."
"This pressure could break anyone," Shen Lu said.
"I know," Liang Wei replied quietly. "That's why I hate this."
Shen Lu watched him for a long moment. "You feel guilty."
Liang Wei let out a slow breath. "Guilt is a luxury I can't afford."
"You're protecting a secret," Shen Lu said. "But you're also protecting yourself."
"And her," Liang Wei added.
He straightened. "No one can know this came from me. If it does, the entire balance shifts."
Shen Lu nodded reluctantly. "I'll make sure the chain stays indirect."
Liang Wei's jaw tightened. "And make sure it ends soon."
Back on the lower floors, Xiaoyu stayed late again.
The office was nearly empty, the lights dimmed to their after-hours setting. Her screen glowed against the darkness as she revised a report for the third time.
Her hands were shaking now.
Not from exhaustion alone—but from the growing certainty that this was no longer about performance.
Something was wrong.
She saved the file and stood, needing air, needing space.
As she walked toward the pantry, she heard voices.
She stopped.
Supervisor Chen stood near the corner, speaking in a low voice to Team Lead Xu.
"I don't like this either," Chen was saying. "But the instruction came from above."
Xu scoffed quietly. "Above how far?"
A pause.
Then Chen answered, carefully.
"Executive level."
Xiaoyu's breath caught.
Xu lowered his voice. "You mean—"
"Don't say names," Chen cut in. "Just make sure she doesn't last the quarter."
Silence followed.
Xiaoyu pressed her hand against the wall, heart pounding so loudly she was sure they could hear it.
"This isn't normal," Xu muttered. "She didn't do anything wrong."
"I know," Chen replied. "But someone wants her gone. Quietly."
Their footsteps moved away.
Xiaoyu remained frozen, her mind struggling to catch up with what she had just heard.
Someone wanted her gone.
Not because she failed.
Not because she was incapable.
But because she existed.
Her chest tightened, a strange mix of fear and clarity flooding her veins. For weeks, she had doubted herself, questioned her worth, wondered if she simply wasn't strong enough.
Now she knew.
This was deliberate.
She returned to her desk in a daze, sitting down slowly as if afraid the floor might disappear beneath her.
Executive level.
The phrase echoed in her head.
She thought back to that day—the incident she had never spoken about, the moment she had helped someone without knowing who he truly was. A man who had looked… human. Vulnerable.
Her fingers curled into fists.
So this was the cost.
Outside the window, the city lights flickered like distant stars.
Xiaoyu stared at her reflection in the glass—tired eyes, pale face, a woman being quietly erased.
But for the first time since the pressure began, something shifted inside her.
The fear remained.
The exhaustion remained.
But the confusion was gone.
She wasn't weak.
She was being pushed.
And now that she knew, the light—faint and trembling—flickered just a little brighter.