The hum of the office was relentless. Fluorescent lights buzzed above Yuxi's head as the ticking of the wall clock marked each dragging second. Her fingers ached from typing, her eyes stung from too many hours staring at spreadsheets, and her back screamed from sitting in the same rigid posture all day.
The pile of tasks Zhao Liying had heaped on her had grown like a living beast—each time Yuxi crossed one item off, two more appeared in its place. It was a game, clearly orchestrated to overwhelm her, to break her, to force her into quitting.
She refused.
But she was running on fumes.
By mid-afternoon, her screen froze for the third time, the hourglass icon spinning mockingly. She closed her eyes and let out a long breath, trying to swallow her frustration.
"You've been typing formulas into a locked cell," a calm voice spoke beside her.
Yuxi blinked and turned. A woman in a crisp slate-gray blazer stood just behind her, her brows slightly raised. She looked to be in her late twenties, with sleek short hair tucked neatly behind her ears and a minimalist aesthetic that radiated quiet confidence. She leaned over, tapped a few keys, and just like that—unlocked the sheet.
"Who…?" Yuxi began, unsure whether to be embarrassed or grateful.
"Luo Qian," the woman introduced herself. "Data analyst. Transferred here two weeks ago."
Yuxi had heard her name, though they'd never formally spoken. Luo Qian was known for her efficiency, her surgical precision with numbers, and her complete indifference to gossip. She didn't attend after-work drinks, didn't hover in hallway conversations, and didn't pander to higher-ups. In short, she was an anomaly.
Yuxi hesitated. "Thank you."
"No problem," Luo Qian said, pulling over a chair with ease. "Mind if I help you with the remaining reports? I finished my queue early, and it looks like someone intentionally dumped half the department's work on your desk."
Yuxi blinked in surprise. "You noticed that?"
"Please," Luo Qian scoffed lightly. "Zhao Liying's schemes are practically textbook. Overburden the target until they collapse, then frame it as incompetence."
Yuxi's lips twitched despite herself. "So you're familiar with her tactics?"
"I've seen her play them before. She hates what she can't control," Luo Qian said simply. "And she hates you."
Yuxi stilled, her posture tightening. "I didn't ask for a war."
"You didn't have to. She declared it the moment she realized you weren't easy to break." Luo Qian glanced at her. "And especially because of who your husband is."
Yuxi went quiet.
There it was again—the ever-present shadow of Gu Zeyan. No matter what she did, his name followed her like an invisible collar. Every kindness was questioned. Every mistake was magnified. Every glance she received was filtered through that one fact: she was the woman Gu Zeyan had carried out of a party like a princess in distress.
"Let me guess," Luo Qian said casually as she opened the shared folder, "They gave you all the low-priority tasks but with high-urgency labels. That's the trick. It buries you in noise."
Yuxi watched her fingers fly across the keyboard and, slowly, cautiously, felt her guard lower.
"Why are you helping me?" she asked softly. "Most people stay out of Zhao Liying's way."
Luo Qian didn't pause. "Because I don't like bullies. And I don't like wasting talent. I've seen the presentations you've written. You're good. And I don't say that lightly."
The praise caught Yuxi off guard. So few people acknowledged her work without ulterior motives. Her chest warmed, and her shoulders relaxed a fraction.
"Thank you," she said, more sincerely than she expected.
"But fair warning," Luo Qian said, her tone sharpening slightly. "Zhao Liying's not done. She failed to humiliate you publicly at the gala. That means she's going to get more creative now. More dangerous."
Yuxi's stomach twisted.
"How do you know?"
"Because she's watching you," Luo Qian said. "And I'm watching her."
The rest of the afternoon passed in tense but efficient silence. With Luo Qian's help, Yuxi managed to catch up on the bulk of her assignments. When evening came and most employees packed up and left, the office slowly dimmed around them.
Eventually, Luo Qian closed her laptop. "I'm heading out. Be careful, Yuxi."
"You too," Yuxi replied, watching her disappear down the hallway.
By the time Yuxi shut down her computer, the sky outside had turned an inky blue. The floor was nearly empty, just the faint buzz of electronics and the distant sound of a vacuum from the janitorial team below.
She gathered her things, slipped into her coat, and made her way through the quiet halls. The elevator ride down felt unnaturally slow, and as the doors opened to the ground level, a cold breeze from outside met her like a whisper.
The lobby was dark, the security guard nodding half-asleep behind the desk. As she stepped out into the crisp night air, she paused. The parking lot stretched wide before her, cars few and far between under flickering street lamps.
She wrapped her coat tighter and began walking toward the nearest taxi stand.
But then—she felt it.
That unmistakable feeling.
Eyes.
Someone was watching her.
She froze for just a second. Not enough to draw suspicion if anyone was watching—but enough for her senses to sharpen. Her eyes darted subtly to the left, to the alley between the Gu Corp building and the adjacent tower. A shadow moved.
Her pulse spiked.
She didn't look again. Instead, she picked up her pace, reaching into her bag and quietly gripping her phone.
Was it one of Zhao Liying's lackeys? A tabloid photographer? Or something worse?
She didn't know.
But as she stepped into the waiting cab and slammed the door shut behind her, she gave one last glance through the rear window.
The alley was empty.
But the sense of unease remained.