Qin Zhi didn't believe in fate.
But if fate was real, it probably wore a thousand-dollar suit and drank black coffee without sugar, just like the man waiting behind the door.
She stood outside the Lu Corporation interview room, clutching a folder that was starting to wrinkle in her hands. Her palms were sweaty. Her shirt collar was damp from the rain outside. Her hair was tied up, but her nerves were loose.
The receptionist had barely looked at her when she signed in.
"You're the temp applicant?" the woman had asked, nose wrinkling like Qin Zhi smelled poor.
"Yes," she'd replied, trying not to sound as anxious as she felt.
This was just a job. Just temporary work.
But for Qin Zhi, it was more than that.
It was a chance to stay afloat.
A chance to pay off her mother's hospital bills.
A chance to finally stand on her own two feet.
She took a breath and stepped inside.
---
The room was cold.
White walls. A long table. A glass panel behind the desk showing the city skyline.
And him.
Her breath hitched.
He was standing by the window, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a tablet.
Tall. Sharp. Dressed in black from head to toe.
He didn't look up when she entered.
She recognized him instantly.
Lu Shenyan.
Of course it was him.
Out of all the companies she could've applied to. Out of all the CEOs in this city. It had to be him.
The man who'd once looked her dead in the eye during a scholarship interview and said:
> "You're not what we're looking for."
She'd never forgotten that.
He clearly had.
---
"You're late," he said without turning.
"I'm not," Qin Zhi replied, voice steady. "My interview was scheduled for 10:00."
He checked his watch, then finally looked at her.
Their eyes met.
His were cold and unreadable.
Hers burned with memory.
There was no flicker of recognition on his face.
He didn't remember her.
That was worse than if he did.
---
"Name?" he asked.
"Qin Zhi."
"Temp applicant. Secretary-level."
"Yes."
He looked at her like she was a file he had no interest in opening.
"You don't look the part."
"And you don't look like HR."
He blinked.
For a second, she thought he was going to smirk.
He didn't.
"Sit," he said.
She sat.
He flipped through her resume, scanned a few lines, then closed the folder without comment.
"If I asked you to make my coffee, clean a wine spill on my desk, and take the blame for something you didn't do… what would you do?"
Qin Zhi didn't hesitate.
"I'd ask if you take your coffee hot or cold, clean the wine, and quietly attach proof that it wasn't my fault to the report—without making it obvious."
He tilted his head slightly.
"You're not here to impress me?"
"No," she said. "I'm here to pay rent."
Silence stretched between them.
Then, finally—
"You start Monday."
---
She stared at him.
"Just like that?"
"You don't talk much. You're practical. And you're clearly desperate."
She stood, holding back a hundred emotions.
Just before she turned to leave, she said quietly, "We've met before."
He looked up. "Have we?"
"Yes. Five years ago. Lin Foundation Scholarship panel."
A pause.
Then: "I don't remember."
"I figured."
He didn't say anything else.
She didn't either.
But as she closed the door behind her, she whispered under her breath:
"Then I'll make sure you do."