The following day, Jiang Yuxi stood before the glass doors of Gu Corporation, the early sunlight casting long shadows across the polished pavement. Her fingers tightened around the straps of her handbag as she took a slow, measured breath. The automatic doors slid open with a soft hiss, ushering her into the pristine lobby with its marble floors and gleaming chrome accents.
Everything was exactly as it always was—efficient, elegant, sterile. Yet this morning, something was different.
The atmosphere.
It was thick with the scent of curiosity and veiled malic, like the aftershocks of a scandal no one could stop talking about. She could feel it immediately. Conversations halted as she stepped in, eyes subtly lifting from computer screens and coffee cups. It was subtle but unmistakable—the kind of silence that wasn't empty but charged with whispers just waiting to erupt the second she passed.
The receptionist faltered mid-greeting. "Good morning, Miss Jiang…" Her voice trailed off, hesitant, her professional smile a few degrees too tight.
Yuxi gave her a slight nod and moved on. She pressed the elevator button and stared at the metallic doors, her reflection looking back at her. Tired. Determined. A woman refusing to break.
As she rose to her floor, she tried to prepare herself mentally. She knew what she'd find the moment those doors opened. And she was right.
When she stepped out, a sea of eyes met hers. Some darted away quickly. Others lingered a fraction too long. But none were friendly.
"She's here…"
"Did you see the video? President Gu just picked her up like some damsel in distress."
"In front of everyone at the gala. Unbelievable."
"She was unconscious, wasn't she? Or was she faking it?"
"Do you think they're married? Or is she just clinging to his name for status?"
Yuxi moved through the corridor, her heels clicking softly against the floor, her face calm, impassive. The voices weren't loud, but they didn't need to be. She'd trained herself to hear the barbs even in silence.
Each step felt heavier, not from shame—but from rage carefully contained beneath a mask of composure.
She reached her desk, and as if on cue, Zhao Liying appeared like a vulture scenting vulnerability. The woman stood with her arms crossed, expression unreadable but eyes glinting with poorly concealed satisfaction.
"Yuxi," she began with a smile that didn't reach her eyes, "you're finally here. I wasn't sure you'd come in today, after… everything."
"I come in every day," Yuxi replied evenly, setting down her bag.
"Of course," Zhao Liying said, voice laced with faux warmth. "It's just—well, you've probably heard by now. People are talking. Not just in the office, but on social media too. The PR department's already had to pull some footage. It's caused quite a stir."
Yuxi looked her squarely in the eye. "And how exactly is that my fault?"
Zhao Liying tilted her head, almost sympathetically. "It's not about fault. It's about perception. Shareholders are sensitive. The image of the company matters. And when the President of Gu Corporation is seen cradling a barely conscious employee out of a public gala… well, people wonder. They question."
"They can wonder all they like," Yuxi said. "I was drugged."
"Yes, and thank goodness President Gu was there to help," Zhao said smoothly, "but in situations like these, even victims have to be mindful of how things look. Perhaps a written statement would help. Something apologetic, even if just to calm the waves."
"I will not apologize for being assaulted."
Zhao Liying's smile faltered. "You're being emotional."
"And you're being manipulative," Yuxi snapped. Her voice was quiet but sharp enough to make Zhao Liying blink. "Try to remember who the real problem is."
Before Zhao could respond, another voice cut in, laced with sugary venom.
"Don't be so quick to play the victim," Meng Yiran said, stepping forward, arms folded and lips curled in a condescending smile. "You knew what kind of event it was. A real professional would've known how to carry herself."
Yuxi turned, her eyes locking with Meng Yiran's. "I suppose you would know all about 'professional' behavior, wouldn't you?"
Meng Yiran's brows arched mockingly. "What I know is that this company doesn't have time for weak links. You're new, you've made a scene, and now the entire company's morale is affected. Maybe this isn't the right place for someone like you."
Someone like me.
The words stung more than she wanted to admit.
"Maybe you'd be more comfortable doing something simpler," Meng Yiran added. "A job that doesn't involve representing the company in front of influential people."
"Maybe you'd be more comfortable minding your own business," Yuxi replied coldly. "Or is your ego so fragile that you have to attack others to feel superior?"
Gasps rippled through the room. Even Zhao Liying's expression cracked for a moment.
"Enough," Zhao Liying said briskly. "Let's keep this civil."
But the damage was done.
For the rest of the day, the retaliation began in silence.
Her inbox exploded with back-to-back assignments. Spreadsheets that had already been submitted for review were sent back for revisions—with no feedback. Her meeting schedule was flooded with overlapping invites, most of which were either canceled at the last minute or turned out to be irrelevant.
"Sorry," one of her coworkers mumbled when she showed up to yet another nonexistent meeting. "I think it was a scheduling error. Must've been someone from upper management."
She knew it wasn't a mistake.
By late afternoon, her desk was a battlefield of paper, coffee rings, and a half-eaten sandwich she hadn't had time to finish. Her hands trembled slightly as she typed, fingers cramping from fatigue. Her eyes burned, and her temples pounded. But still, she didn't stop.
Because stopping would mean surrendering.
They were punishing her. For being seen. For being helped. For not breaking.
But she wouldn't give them that satisfaction.
When the office finally emptied, the silence was a mercy. Yuxi stayed behind, finishing one last report under the dim glow of her desk lamp. Her blazer was draped over her chair, her sleeves rolled up, hair falling loose from its bun.
She looked exhausted. But her eyes were fierce.
As she finally packed up and stood, her reflection in the window caught her attention. For a moment, she saw not the gossip or the judgment—but a woman who had survived worse and was still standing.
Let them talk. Let them scheme.
She was Jiang Yuxi.
And she hadn't come this far just to bow her head now.
She walked out of the office that night in silence, her heels echoing against the marble floors. But inside her, a quiet storm had already begun to brew.
They wanted her to quit.
They wanted her to break.
But all they had done was light a fire.
And soon, they'd realize—
They'd picked the wrong woman to corner.