Shen Yuqi arrived earlier than usual that morning.
Not because she had planned to—but because she had woken up before her alarm and couldn't fall back asleep. The apartment had been quiet, her parents still resting, her brother's door closed. She lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling, listening to the hum of the city waking up.
Eventually, she got up.
She dressed without rushing, packed her bag, and left the house while the sky was still pale and undecided. The air outside was cool, the kind that cleared the head.
At the café near the building, the line was short.
She ordered, waited, and stepped aside.
Li Wei wasn't there.
She noticed it immediately—and just as quickly told herself it meant nothing. He didn't always come this early. She had arrived ahead of her usual time. It was unreasonable to expect anything else.
She collected her drink and left.
At the building entrance, she slowed slightly, adjusting her grip on the cup. The lobby was quieter than usual, the polished floor reflecting the morning light.
She headed toward the elevators.
As the doors opened, she stepped inside—
And paused.
Li Wei stood near the back, phone in hand, coat neatly buttoned.
"Oh," she said, without thinking.
He looked up.
"Good morning," he replied.
"Good morning."
She stepped in, pressing her floor.
The doors closed.
"You're early," he said.
"So are you."
He nodded. "I had a call."
"I see."
They stood in silence as the elevator rose.
She noticed something she hadn't before: he hadn't pressed the button for the higher floors yet. Only hers was lit.
"You're not going up?" she asked.
He glanced at the panel, then pressed his floor.
"I was waiting," he said.
She looked at him, surprised.
"For what?" she asked, before she could stop herself.
He paused.
Then, as if only just realizing it himself, he said, "The elevator was empty. I thought I'd wait a moment."
The explanation made sense.
And yet.
She nodded. "Oh."
The elevator continued upward.
When it stopped at her floor, she stepped out.
"Have a good day," he said.
"You too."
She walked down the hallway feeling oddly unsettled—not by his words, but by the timing of them.
At her desk, she opened her computer and reviewed her schedule. The day was packed—meetings stacked closely together, little room to breathe.
She welcomed the distraction.
By mid-morning, she had nearly forgotten the elevator.
Almost.
During a meeting, her phone buzzed with a reminder she'd set earlier in the week. She dismissed it without reading, her focus on the discussion unfolding around her.
When the meeting ended, she stepped into the hallway and slowed instinctively.
He wasn't there.
She exhaled quietly and kept walking.
At lunchtime, she ate at her desk, replying to emails and reviewing notes. The office hummed with quiet productivity.
She didn't leave the floor.
In the afternoon, she was sent to deliver documents to another department. She gathered the folder and stepped into the elevator, pressing the button.
The doors closed.
The elevator descended.
At the third floor, the doors opened.
Li Wei stepped in.
She looked up.
"Good afternoon," he said.
"Good afternoon."
The doors closed again.
He glanced at the folder in her hands.
"Meeting?" he asked.
"Document delivery," she replied.
He nodded. "Busy day."
"Yes."
They rode in silence for a moment.
Then he asked, "Are you eating properly?"
The question surprised her—not because it was intrusive, but because it was unexpected.
"Yes," she said after a brief pause. "Why?"
"You didn't leave your floor at lunch," he said.
She blinked. "You noticed?"
He didn't answer immediately.
"I passed by," he said finally.
"Oh."
The elevator slowed.
When it stopped at her destination, she stepped out.
"Don't overwork yourself," he added.
She smiled faintly. "I won't."
She walked away, her steps lighter than before.
That evening, she finished later than planned.
The office was quieter now, the lights dimmed in unused rooms. She packed up her things and stood, stretching slightly.
As she stepped into the hallway, she glanced toward the elevators.
They were closed.
She waited.
A moment passed.
Then another.
The doors opened.
Li Wei stood inside.
"You're leaving now?" he asked.
"Yes."
She stepped in.
The doors closed.
"You're later than usual," he said.
"I had to revise something."
"I see."
They descended together.
At the lobby, they exited side by side. Outside, the night air was cool, the streetlights casting soft halos onto the pavement.
They walked toward the subway entrance.
Neither of them spoke at first.
Then he said, "You don't have to stay late every day."
She glanced at him. "Neither do you."
He smiled faintly. "Fair."
They reached the entrance.
"This is me," she said.
"I'll walk a bit further," he replied.
"Good night."
"Good night."
She descended the stairs.
On the train, she leaned back against the seat, her reflection faint in the window. She replayed the day—not every detail, just the feeling of it.
The elevator.
The question.
The waiting.
She frowned slightly.
He waited, she thought.
Not in a dramatic way. Not intentionally.
But enough to notice.
At home, her brother was sprawled on the couch, half-watching a show.
"You're home late again," he said.
She slipped off her shoes. "I know."
"You okay?"
"Yes."
He studied her for a moment, then shrugged. "Okay."
Later, in her room, she changed into comfortable clothes and sat at her desk, staring at nothing in particular.
Her phone buzzed with a message from work—a reminder for a meeting the next day. She acknowledged it and set the phone aside.
She thought of the elevator again.
Of how he'd said he was waiting—only realizing after the fact.
The next morning, she arrived at the building at her usual time.
She slowed near the elevators.
The doors were closed.
She waited.
They opened.
Li Wei was inside.
She stepped in.
"Good morning," she said.
"Good morning."
The doors closed.
"You're on time today," he remarked.
"So are you."
He nodded.
The elevator rose.
Neither of them spoke.
And yet, the silence felt different now—not empty, not accidental.
Just shared.
When she stepped out at her floor, she turned slightly.
"I'll see you later," she said.
"Yes."
She walked down the hallway, aware—not of being watched, but of being expected.
And somewhere between her desk and her first meeting of the day, Shen Yuqi realized something quietly unsettling.
It wasn't that they were close.
It wasn't that anything had changed dramatically.
It was simply this:
They had started accounting for each other.
And that, she knew, was how things began.