At exactly 9:00 a.m., Xia Ruyan walked into Mo Yichen's office.
She looked professionally gorgeous, pristine in form, untouchable in presence. There was no lightness in her eyes, no flicker of emotion. She wasn't there to impress. She was there because she had agreed to fulfill a duty. And she would, every single one of them.
Behind the massive dark oak desk, Mo Yichen leaned back in his leather chair, dressed immaculately in tailored black. A ghost of amusement danced in his eyes as he watched her. He was satisfied.
The deer had stepped into the hunter's den. And he planned to make her break, make her abandon that quiet pride and bend.
"Welcome to Mo Corporation, Miss Xia," he said coolly, voice laced with sarcasm.
Xia Ruyan merely nodded, her face was calm. She understood the games he was playing. And she was not amused.
"Secretary Lee will handle your orientation. I do hope you won't disappoint me," he added, narrowing his eyes slightly.
"Yes, President Mo," she replied, her voice even and poised, untouched by his provocation.
Something in her tone, so detached, has set his teeth on edge. He hated that elegance. That composure.
Secretary Lee, flustered but efficient, gave her a brief orientation and then guided her to her designated workspace, right outside Mo Yichen's office. A strategic move, clearly. But Xia Ruyan didn't mind. The isolation suited her; she had no desire to mingle with the rest of the office.
She had barely settled in when Secretary Lee returned, this time carrying a towering stack of eighteen files.
"President Mo has requested you review these documents thoroughly, create detailed reports, and ensure each is signed by the corresponding departments," he said.
She looked at the tall and heavy files. Not a single flicker crossed her expression.
What she didn't know, what Mo Yichen hoped she didn't know, was that he was watching her every move through the surveillance camera feed in his office. He leaned forward, eyes fixed on the screen. Would she frown? Bite her lip in irritation? Complain, perhaps? Maybe even throw one of those precious files at the wall?
But to his growing frustration, she didn't flinch. She picked up the first file and began working precisely and efficiently.
In the Xia household, business acumen wasn't taught; it was inherited. Children were weaned on numbers. For her, this mountain of corporate documentation was little more than an elaborate game.
Three hours later, she approached Secretary Lee's desk. "Could I please have a map or directory of the office layout?" she asked.
Lee Jian blinked. He hadn't expected her to speak, let alone request help so calmly. He fumbled for a second before pulling a copy out from the bottom drawer and handing it to her.
She took it without fuss, scanned it swiftly, then sat back down. Gracefully, she reached for her water bottle and took a small sip. Then another.
If she had been at home, Marie would've already brought her a pot of mint and lemon tea. But here, there was only instant coffee, bitter, bland, and unworthy. Water would suffice.
None of this showed on her face. Then, she rose, files in hand, ready to begin the signature run.
In his office, Mo Yichen made a call. "All the elevators are out of order today."
Secretary Lee hesitated. "Sir, they're fully functional…"
"Did I ask for a report?" Mo Yichen's tone dropped, sharp and dangerous.
Understanding dawned. Lee Jian swallowed hard and nodded. "Understood." A moment later, he made the call. All elevators were halted.
Downstairs, Xia Ruyan waited for a few minutes before quietly heading to the stairwell.
There were eighteen floors. And eighteen files.
Every department she visited offered resistance. Pointless delays. Petty snubs. Yet she never lost her calm. Her expression remained composed.
Words were precious. She didn't waste them on unnecessary people.
Lee Jian lost count of how many times she ascended and descended those stairs. Just watching her made his knees ache. But she didn't even flinch.
A thin sheen of sweat now glistened on her forehead and neck. A faint flush colored her cheeks, but her movements were fluid and restrained. Her white blouse was still crisp. Her hair was tucked neatly behind her ears. Not a strand out of place. Not even fatigue dared dishevel her.
Mo Yichen leaned back in his chair, gaze fixed on the monitor. He was prepared to see her crumble. Stumble. Instead… For a brief, disarming moment, he was caught off guard.
There was something about the way the light from the window caught the soft glow of her skin. The way her steady, deliberate movements radiated quiet strength. Her elegance wasn't fragile, it was sharpened. Honed like a blade.
She was beautiful. That much he had always known. But now, she was stunning.
And he hated that he noticed. He scoffed, turning the monitor off with a sharp flick of his fingers.
"She thinks this is a game," he muttered under his breath. "Let's see how long she lasts."
He tugged at his tie, loosening it slightly. Too aware of the tightness in his chest. His fingers paused mid-motion. Something unsettling crawled beneath his skin. Because Xia Ruyan wasn't trying to be beautiful. She just was.
And worse, she didn't care who noticed. That made her dangerous. And maddeningly unforgettable.
By 1 p.m., all the files were signed and returned. Most of the staff had already left for lunch. Lee Jian politely invited her to join, but she declined with the same quiet grace she'd shown all morning.
Mo Yichen watched her from behind his tinted glass panel. She moved like a lotus in still water. Poised was the word shot in his mind.
Was she not tired? Was she not angry? How could she endure everything and not feel wronged? He narrowed his eyes, lips curling into a cold smirk. Doesn't matter. If she could be broken with something as small as this, she wasn't worth playing with anyway.
But this was only the beginning.
Outside the office;
Xia Ruyan finally let out a breath. Not from fatigue. But from revulsion. She had seen the surveillance camera in the hallway. She had felt the elevator jolt and freeze. She wasn't naïve. This wasn't a technical fault, it was a message.
Mo Yichen wanted her to crawl. He thought discomfort would bend her. That humiliation would teach her her place. He clearly didn't know her kind. She'd grown up in a jungle where the predators wore cufflinks. Where every handshake was a calculation. Every smile came with a concealed dagger.
Compared to that, this was amateur hour. She had hunted wolves in the wild.
And Mo Yichen? He was just a pampered dog in a suit.
Let him sit behind that desk like a spoiled prince throwing tantrums. He says he doesn't care about her, yet wastes hours plotting ways to break her.
How juvenile. How transparent. How utterly beneath her.
He was not a man of honor, she thought. Just another entitled coward who mistook control for power.
When she finished the report, she stood, walked to his office, and knocked gently.
A soft "Come in" came through.
She entered and placed the file on his desk. The room smelled again of coffee, tobacco, and leather. Not unpleasant. But nothing about it appealed to her.
Mo Yichen didn't say a word. Just stared at her, then took his time reading the report, deliberately, slowly, making her stand like a subordinate in a military parade. She said nothing. Her posture remained perfect. Not a flicker of annoyance crossed her features. He noticed how the light haloed her features. No makeup. No artifice. Real.
Right then, the door burst open.
A woman walked in, wrapped in fur and perfume, swaying like she was entering a photoshoot instead of a corporate office. Her permed hair wild around her shoulders, her crimson lipstick screaming for attention.
She was beautiful. But next to Xia Ruyan, she looked… like a loud and forgettable ornament.
Even Yichen frowned as the perfume engulfed the space.
"Yichen, why didn't you come to the set?" she spoke dramatically, hobbling forward. She thrust a pedicured foot like a trophy. "I was hurt so badly." A tiny graze on her ankle, barely more than a paper cut.
Mo Yichen didn't bat an eye. But his next words were cold and pointed.
"Secretary Xia, can't you see she's injured? Help her with her foot injury."
There was a flicker in Xia Ruyan's eyes. Not of anger or even disdain. Just a look that told him: You thought this would get to me?
The woman giggled. "Oh, so you're the new assistant. I'm Sang Yu. Of course, you know me."
There was an awkward pause. Then, Xia Ruyan spoke with a voice smooth as glass and sharp as a knife.
"No." A single syllable. Cleanly brutal. Sang Yu blinked, visibly rattled. She wasn't used to being dismissed.
Mo Yichen's brows pulled together. "Did you not hear me?" he asked, voice hard now.
"It's not my job." Her voice was so neutral, it felt surgical. No heat or defiance. Just facts. Delivered like the ticking of a clock. Ruyan met his gaze with infuriating calm. He stiffened. She continued, voice low but cutting.
"Tending to PR mascots isn't in my job description, President Mo."
Sang Yu stiffened, color draining from her face. "I beg your pardon?!"
Xia Ruyan turned toward her slowly, like a queen sparing a glance at a jester.
"Beg harder."
Silence dropped like a hammer.
Mo Yichen's fingers paused on the paper. His eyes rose, dark, unreadable.
Sang Yu gasped. "You… How dare...!!"
The temperature dropped. Mo Yichen leaned back slightly, caught between admiration and fury.
She turned to him. Calmly, "Is that all, President Mo?" Her voice was so crisp, it almost cracked the air.
He didn't answer. He just stared. Xia Ruyan turned and walked out without waiting for dismissal. Her heels struck the floor like war drums.
She didn't slam the door. She didn't need to.
The silence she left behind did it for her.