Chapter 29: When Silence Starts Talking
Rumors never arrived loudly.
They slipped in quietly—between coffee refills, through half-closed cubicle walls, carried by lowered voices that stopped the moment someone turned around.
Shen Yuqi sensed it before she heard it.
It was the way conversations paused when she approached. The way people smiled a second too late. The way her name began appearing in sentences that ended before she reached the room.
She told herself it was nothing.
After all, she had stayed late. She had been seen leaving with Li Wei. In an office like this, imagination moved faster than truth.
Still, when she stepped into the elevator that morning and two colleagues fell abruptly silent, her stomach tightened.
"Good morning," she said anyway.
They echoed it, overly bright.
By the time she reached her desk, Lin Xia was already waiting, leaning against the partition with a look that said we need to talk.
"You're trending," Lin Xia murmured.
Yuqi frowned. "In what sense?"
"In the whispered, unofficial, extremely annoying sense."
Yuqi sighed quietly and logged into her computer. "Let me guess. Late night. CEO. Empty office."
Lin Xia nodded. "They're connecting dots that don't exist."
"They shouldn't," Yuqi said. "Nothing happened."
"I know," Lin Xia said gently. "You know. But offices don't run on facts—they run on boredom."
Yuqi didn't respond. She focused on her screen, grounding herself in tasks, in lists, in the safety of structure.
At 9:02 a.m., Li Wei walked out of his office.
The floor straightened instinctively.
"Yuqi," he said.
She stood. "Yes."
"Come with me."
No explanation. No pause.
The whispers sharpened.
Inside his office, the door closed behind them with a soft click.
"You're aware of the rumors," he said, not looking at her.
"Yes."
"Good."
He finally turned.
"They're irrelevant."
She studied his expression—calm, controlled, untouched by doubt.
"But they affect work," she said.
"They only do if you let them."
She nodded, then hesitated. "And if they affect you?"
"They don't."
The answer was immediate.
She believed him.
That afternoon, a new variable entered the equation.
His name was Zhou Minghao—a senior consultant transferred from headquarters, sharp-eyed and too observant for his own good. He noticed things others missed. Patterns. Dynamics.
He also noticed Shen Yuqi.
"You're the assistant," he said during a break, smiling politely. "The one Li Wei relies on."
Yuqi smiled back, neutral. "I assist where needed."
Minghao's gaze lingered a moment longer than necessary. "He doesn't rely easily."
She didn't answer.
Later, as Li Wei reviewed documents, Minghao remarked casually, "Your assistant is impressive."
Li Wei didn't look up. "I know."
The word carried no pride. Just certainty.
That evening, Yuqi left on time.
At home, she met a friend for dinner—laughed, complained about traffic, pretended the day hadn't weighed on her more than it should have.
But as she walked back alone, she realized something unsettling.
Being close to Li Wei—even professionally—meant being visible.
And visibility came with consequences.
The next morning, she found a note on her desk.
Don't let noise distract you.
—LW
She stared at it for a long moment.
Then she folded it carefully and slipped it into her notebook.
Not as a secret.
But as a reminder.
Sometimes, silence didn't mean nothing was happening.
Sometimes, it meant everything was being watched.