Xiaoyu didn't intend to drink that much.
It was supposed to be one glass—just enough to blur the sharp edges of the day. One small rebellion against the unfairness she swallowed quietly from morning to night. But the week had been long, the pressure relentless, and the weight in her chest too heavy to carry sober.
The bar was warm, dim, and forgiving. Yellow lights reflected off wooden tables worn smooth by years of tired office workers. Soft music played in the background—something nostalgic, something easy to hum to without thinking.
Xiaoyu sat between two fellow new hires, Mei and Qian, their jackets draped over the backs of their chairs, their ties loosened, their laughter a little too loud.
"To surviving another week," Mei declared, raising her glass.
"To not getting fired," Qian added.
They clinked glasses.
Xiaoyu drank.
The alcohol burned on the way down, then softened into warmth. Her shoulders relaxed. Her thoughts loosened. The tight knot inside her chest finally began to unravel.
At first, they complained like everyone else did.
Deadlines. Managers. Long hours.
Then someone ordered another round.
And another.
Mei leaned closer, her voice conspiratorial. "I swear, the way they treat new hires—it's like hazing, but with spreadsheets."
Qian snorted. "At least hazing ends."
Xiaoyu laughed. A sharp, brittle sound that surprised her.
"They don't even tell you what you did wrong," she said. "They just… decide."
"Decide what?" Mei asked.
"That you're the problem."
Her words hung in the air.
Xiaoyu lifted her glass again.
"I follow instructions," she continued, voice growing louder without her noticing. "I write everything down. I stay late. I double-check everything. And somehow, I'm still wrong."
Mei frowned. "That doesn't make sense."
"It doesn't have to," Xiaoyu said bitterly. "Not when someone wants you gone."
Qian blinked. "What do you mean?"
Xiaoyu hesitated.
Then laughed again—too loudly this time.
"I heard them," she said. "They don't want me there. Not because I failed. Because I exist."
Mei gasped. "That's awful."
"It's unfair!" Xiaoyu slammed her glass lightly on the table. "Unfair! They make you doubt yourself until you think you're the problem. Until you start apologizing for breathing."
Her cheeks flushed, eyes shining dangerously bright.
"I didn't do anything wrong," she said, voice trembling. "I didn't hurt anyone. I just helped someone one time. Just once. And now—now it's like I'm paying for it every single day."
At the bar counter, a few stools away, Shen Lu stopped mid-sip.
He hadn't been paying attention. He had come for a quiet drink after a long day, chosen the bar precisely because it was unremarkable.
But her words cut through the noise.
Helped someone.
Paying for it.
He turned his head slightly.
Xiaoyu.
His heart sank.
She was clearly drunk—gesturing wildly now, her voice carrying far too easily across the room.
"It's like they're trying to erase me," she continued. "Like if I leave quietly enough, no one will notice I was ever there."
Shen Lu stood up abruptly.
This was bad.
Very bad.
He stepped outside, the cold night air sobering him instantly, and dialed a number he rarely called without preparation.
"Sir," he said the moment the line connected, "we have a situation."
Liang Wei answered immediately. "What happened?"
"I'm at a bar near the office," Shen Lu said carefully. "Xiaoyu is here. She's drunk. And she's talking."
There was a pause—brief, but sharp.
"Talking about what?"
"About being pushed out," Shen Lu replied. "About helping someone. Loudly."
Silence.
Then, controlled and clipped: "Where are you?"
Liang Wei arrived faster than Shen Lu expected.
Too fast.
He stepped into the bar, his presence immediately out of place—tailored coat, rigid posture, eyes scanning the room with surgical precision.
He saw her instantly.
Xiaoyu was standing now, swaying slightly, Mei and Qian clinging to her arms as they laughed uncontrollably.
"It's unfair!" Xiaoyu announced to the room at large. "With a capital U!"
Several patrons glanced over.
Liang Wei's jaw tightened.
"Shen Lu," he said quietly, not taking his eyes off her, "take care of the others."
"What about—"
"The others," Liang Wei repeated.
Shen Lu sighed but moved quickly, intercepting Mei and Qian with practiced ease.
"Time to go," he said gently.
Mei squinted at him. "Do I know you?"
"Tonight? No."
That left Liang Wei standing in front of Xiaoyu.
She blinked at him.
Then squinted harder.
"…You," she said slowly.
He felt it immediately—the shift.
Recognition.
"Oh," she breathed, pointing at him with an unsteady finger. "It's you."
Liang Wei reached for her arm, intending to guide her out discreetly.
She slapped his hand away.
"Don't touch me!" she shouted.
The bar fell silent.
Liang Wei froze—not embarrassed, not angry, but clearly at a loss.
"You're intoxicated," he said stiffly.
"You're terrible!" she yelled back.
Tears welled in her eyes without warning.
"You ruined my job!" she cried, her voice breaking. "Do you know how hard I worked? Do you know how unfair it is to make someone feel like they're crazy?"
She shoved him.
It barely moved him, but it shocked everyone watching.
Liang Wei did nothing.
She hit his chest again, fists weak and uncoordinated.
"You could've stopped it!" she sobbed. "You're powerful! You just stood there!"
He stood rigid, hands hovering awkwardly at his sides, clearly unsure whether to restrain her or let it happen.
People were staring now.
Xiaoyu sniffed loudly.
"I hate people like you," she said. "You pretend you don't know. You pretend it's not your fault."
She raised her hand again.
Then stopped.
Her face went pale.
Liang Wei's eyes widened a fraction.
"Wait—"
Too late.
Xiaoyu bent forward and vomited spectacularly all over the front of his coat.
The bar erupted.
"Oh my God!"
"Did that just happen?"
"Someone get napkins!"
Xiaoyu made a small, miserable sound.
Then collapsed forward.
Liang Wei caught her instinctively, standing there stiffly, soaked, surrounded by gasps and whispers.
She mumbled something incoherent.
Then fainted completely.
Dead weight.
Shen Lu returned just in time to take in the entire scene.
He stared at Liang Wei.
"…Sir," he said carefully, "you've been assaulted by alcohol."
Liang Wei closed his eyes briefly.
"Get the car," he said. "Now."
As they left the bar, Liang Wei glanced down at Xiaoyu's unconscious face—tear-streaked, exhausted, utterly defenseless.
He said nothing.
But for the first time, control had slipped out of his hands.
And the light—uncontrolled, messy, human—had spilled everywhere.