The conference room emptied in silence.
One by one, chairs scraped softly against the floor, folders were gathered, eyes lowered. No one dared to linger. When the door finally closed, the click echoed louder than it should have.
Only two people remained.
Xiaoyu sat stiffly at the long table, hands folded tightly in her lap, knuckles pale. Her head throbbed faintly—a lingering reminder of the night before—and so did the shame. The memory of the bar clung to her like a shadow she couldn't shake.
Across from her, Liang Wei stood at the head of the table, jacket removed, sleeves rolled just enough to suggest fatigue rather than vulnerability. His expression was calm, unreadable, as if the chaos of the past twenty-four hours had already been processed, categorized, and placed neatly into a box labeled resolved.
He was the first to speak.
"I've made a decision," he said.
Xiaoyu flinched slightly, her shoulders tightening.
"I don't think I should be here," she said quietly. "If this is about my resignation, I—"
"It's not," Liang Wei interrupted, not sharply, but firmly. "Sit."
She hesitated, then remained seated.
He walked to the window, looking out over the city. Below them, cars moved like orderly streams of light, unaware of the quiet storm unfolding above.
"The incident at the bar has already reached the press," he said. "Photos. Speculation. Innuendo."
Xiaoyu's stomach dropped. "Photos?"
"Yes." He turned slightly. "You and I. Close proximity. Physical altercation. Alcohol."
Her face burned.
"I was drunk," she said quickly. "I would never have—"
"I know," he said. "That is irrelevant now."
She bit her lip, fear creeping into her chest. "They'll destroy me."
"They would," he agreed calmly. "If left unchecked."
She stared at him. "Then why am I here?"
Liang Wei returned to the table and placed both hands on its surface, leaning forward slightly—not looming, but undeniably commanding.
"Because," he said, "there is a way to end this without ruining you."
Her heart pounded.
He straightened. "We will announce that you are my girlfriend"
The words landed heavily in the room.
Xiaoyu blinked once.
Twice.
"…What?"
"Fake girlfriend," Liang Wei clarified. "Temporary. Public-facing only."
She stood abruptly, chair scraping loudly behind her. "Absolutely not."
He did not react.
"This is insane," she said, voice shaking. "You can't just decide something like that."
"I can," he replied evenly. "And I have."
She laughed bitterly. "So this is how powerful people solve their problems? Turn ordinary people into shields?"
"That is not what this is," he said.
"Then what is it?" she demanded.
He met her gaze steadily. "Damage control."
Xiaoyu's hands trembled. "You think pretending to be your girlfriend will make my life easier?"
"No," Liang Wei said without hesitation. "I think it will make it survivable."
She stared at him, stunned by the bluntness.
"The press has already constructed a narrative," he continued. "They don't need truth. They need coherence. Right now, the narrative is that a drunk employee assaulted a corporate figure."
Her throat tightened.
"That narrative will end you," he said. "Your career. Your privacy. Your future employment."
She swallowed hard. "And this… fixes it?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"Because it reframes the incident," he replied. "From misconduct to intimacy. From scandal to relationship conflict."
She shook her head. "People will talk."
"They already are."
"They'll judge me."
"They already have."
His words were calm, not cruel. That somehow made them worse.
Xiaoyu's voice dropped. "You're asking me to lie."
"I'm asking you to survive," he corrected. "There is a difference."
She looked away, pressing her fingers into her temples. "This isn't fair."
"No," he agreed. "It isn't."
She laughed weakly. "You say that like it's weather."
"Fairness is not a business metric," Liang Wei said. "Outcomes are."
Silence stretched between them.
"What happens after?" she asked quietly. "After this… contract?"
"We set a timeline," he said. "Six months. Enough for the story to lose relevance. Enough for you to leave the company cleanly, with compensation and references."
Her head snapped up. "Leave?"
"Yes."
"So I lose my job either way."
"You gain protection," he countered. "And control over how you exit."
Xiaoyu's chest felt tight. "And if I say no?"
He did not threaten her.
He didn't need to.
"Then the press will continue," he said simply. "They will dig. They will speculate. And you will face it alone."
She sank back into her chair.
Her mind raced—images of headlines, comments, strangers dissecting her worst night. She had never wanted attention. Never wanted to be seen.
"This isn't my world," she whispered.
Liang Wei's gaze softened—not emotionally, but practically. "That is precisely why this works. You are believable."
She looked at him sharply. "So I'm useful."
"Yes," he said. "And protected."
Her fingers curled into her palms.
"I don't have to speak," she said suddenly. "Do I?"
"No," he replied immediately. "You won't."
She frowned. "The press conference—"
"I will do all the talking," he said. "You will stand beside me. Nothing more."
"What if they ask me questions?"
"They won't," he said. "And if they try, I will redirect."
Her voice trembled. "I don't want to be dissected."
"You won't be," he said. "Not if you follow my lead."
She studied his face—so controlled, so certain. A man who had already calculated every variable.
"And if I panic?" she asked.
"Then you remain silent," he replied. "Silence is not weakness in front of cameras. It is mystery."
She let out a shaky breath.
"This is terrifying," she admitted.
"Yes," he said. "But it is temporary."
She closed her eyes.
For a long moment, she said nothing.
When she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper.
"If I agree… I want it in writing."
Liang Wei nodded. "Of course."
"And I leave after six months," she continued. "No extensions."
"Agreed."
"And this does not affect my family."
"It won't," he said.
"And you don't touch my life outside what's necessary."
"I have no interest in doing so."
She laughed softly, humorless. "That makes one of us."
He did not respond.
Another pause.
Then, slowly, reluctantly, Xiaoyu nodded.
"…Fine."
The word felt heavy as it left her mouth.
Liang Wei did not smile.
He simply reached for his phone.
"Shen Lu," he said when the call connected. "Prepare a press conference in two hours."
He ended the call and looked at Xiaoyu.
"It's done."
Her heart raced. "Already?"
"Momentum matters," he said. "Hesitation invites scrutiny."
She hugged her arms around herself. "What if I mess this up?"
"You won't speak," he reminded her. "You will stand. You will breathe. That is all."
She swallowed hard.
As they stood to leave the conference room, the weight of what she had agreed to finally settled in.
She wasn't just protecting herself.
She was stepping into a spotlight she had never asked for—guided by a man who never stumbled, never hesitated, and never explained more than necessary.
And yet, as terrified as she was, one thought lingered quietly in her chest.
The light had found her.
And now, it was demanding a price.