By the third day, Shen Yuqi understood something clearly—
Rumors did not need confirmation to grow.
They fed on repetition.
She heard her name three times before noon.
Not directly. Never directly.
It slipped through conversations like an afterthought—soft enough to deny, sharp enough to wound.
"…special treatment."
"…always called into the office."
"…late nights again."
She kept her posture straight, her tone even, her work precise.
If people were watching her, she would give them nothing extra to see.
Still, pressure had a way of seeping through the cracks.
At 10:15 a.m., Zhou Minghao appeared at her desk.
"Busy?" he asked lightly.
Yuqi looked up. "I have a report due in thirty minutes."
"Perfect timing," he smiled. "I won't take long."
She gestured politely for him to speak.
"I wanted to clarify the workflow between you and President Li," he said. "For efficiency purposes."
The wording was neutral.
The intent wasn't.
Yuqi chose her words carefully. "I handle scheduling, documentation, and coordination. Anything outside that goes through approval."
Minghao nodded. "And the late nights?"
She met his gaze evenly. "Project-based. Not personal."
A flicker passed through his eyes—interest, perhaps. Or calculation.
"Understood," he said. "I appreciate professionalism."
So do I, Yuqi thought.
When he left, she exhaled quietly and returned to her screen.
Inside Li Wei's office, the atmosphere wasn't much lighter.
He had already heard.
He always heard.
The board's assistant had mentioned "optics." A department head had joked poorly. Zhou Minghao's questions hadn't gone unnoticed.
Li Wei disliked inefficiency.
He disliked noise even more.
At noon, he called Yuqi in.
She entered with her tablet, posture composed.
"Sit," he said.
She did.
"You're aware the situation is becoming a distraction."
"Yes."
"Are you uncomfortable?"
The question was direct. Not accusatory. Not gentle either.
Yuqi paused.
"No," she said. "But I am aware of how it looks."
"And?"
"And I won't change how I work to make others comfortable."
A faint pause.
"That answer," Li Wei said, "has consequences."
"I know."
He studied her—longer than usual. Not searching. Measuring.
"You're not obligated to stay in this position," he said. "If you feel pressure—"
"I don't," she interrupted quietly.
He raised an eyebrow.
She steadied herself. "I applied for this job knowing it would be demanding. I didn't expect ease. I expected responsibility."
Another pause.
Then, unexpectedly, Li Wei nodded.
"Good."
That afternoon, the pressure surfaced publicly.
During a cross-department meeting, a senior manager—careless or bold—remarked, "Perhaps President Li's assistant should step back from strategic discussions. For objectivity's sake."
The room went still.
Yuqi felt heat rise to her face—not embarrassment, but anger.
Before Li Wei could respond, she spoke.
"With respect," she said calmly, "my role in this discussion is functional, not personal. If my input is flawed, I welcome correction. If it's accurate, I believe it deserves consideration."
Silence followed.
Li Wei didn't look at her.
He looked at the manager.
"Continue," he said coolly. "Unless you're suggesting inefficiency is preferable to comfort."
The topic shifted.
After the meeting, Yuqi's hands trembled slightly as she returned to her desk.
Lin Xia leaned over. "That was brave."
Yuqi exhaled. "That was necessary."
Later that evening, Li Wei stopped by her desk.
Not summoned.
Stopped.
"You handled that well," he said.
"Thank you."
"You shouldn't have had to."
She looked up. "This isn't about you fixing it."
"I know."
Their gazes held briefly—not intense, not intimate. Just aligned.
That night, Yuqi didn't go straight home.
She met friends. Talked about everything except work. Laughed louder than usual. Let herself be a person again.
But as she lay in bed later, she realized something unsettling.
The space between her and Li Wei wasn't empty anymore.
It was filled—with expectation, scrutiny, and a growing awareness that working closely with him meant standing in a spotlight neither of them had asked for.
And yet—
Neither had stepped away.
Not even once.