It started with an emergency call at 7:00 AM.
Ruoxi hadn't even had her morning coffee when Zhen's name flashed on her phone.
"Speak," she answered coolly, slipping on her heels.
"Where are you?" His voice was sharp but not frantic. "There's a problem with the supplier contracts for the South Korea launch. Their legal team is threatening to pull out."
Ruoxi paused, composure steady despite the news. "I'll be at Lu Group HQ in twenty minutes."
"Make it fifteen."
The line went dead. Of course it did.
Zhen was infamous for his razor-cut efficiency and frostbitten temperament. Most people found him intolerable. Ruoxi found him… annoying. Yet undeniably competent. And something about their chaotic partnership over the past few weeks—she wouldn't say chemistry, but it was volatile in the best way.
She arrived in fourteen minutes.
Zhen was already at the conference table, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly tousled like he hadn't slept—which he probably hadn't. He pushed a thick folder toward her. "Read fast."
She raised an eyebrow but didn't waste time. The supplier's grievance was legit—a misworded clause in their expansion contract gave room for withdrawal unless an exclusivity clause was renegotiated.
Ruoxi narrowed her eyes. "Who drafted this version?"
"Someone on their side revised the final clause without notice," Zhen muttered. "We missed it."
Ruoxi glanced at him. "You missed it?"
"I was in Hong Kong sealing the Westwater deal with Liyana," he said flatly. "It was Mira's team that overlooked the revision. Doesn't matter now. We clean it up."
She exhaled through her nose. "Alright. Let's fix it."
Hours passed. They went through legal clauses, made urgent calls, and got the international negotiation team on standby. What had started as a ticking bomb gradually turned into something salvageable.
By 3:00 PM, the major fire was under control.
Ruoxi leaned back in her chair, pulling her hair into a loose ponytail. "Crisis contained. No one died."
Zhen poured coffee from the decanter. "Except the intern who drafted the original doc. He might be dead inside now."
She chuckled despite herself. "You're terrible."
He gave her a look. "I'm efficient."
There was a moment—quiet, stretched.
"Hey," she said suddenly, leaning forward. "You did well."
Zhen blinked.
"You're not used to hearing that, are you?"
He didn't answer right away. "People don't usually need to say it."
"That doesn't mean you don't need to hear it."
His gaze flickered toward her—sharp, but softened just a little. "And you? You're surprisingly good under pressure."
"I'm always good," she replied smoothly. "Just usually overlooked in rooms full of egos."
Zhen looked at her then—not the way he usually did, with clinical assessment, but with… something quieter. Less guarded.
"You should stop downplaying yourself," he said finally. "You're not just 'Ruoxi, the woman who works with Damien.' You're sharp. You don't let anything slip. I see it."
Ruoxi was silent. Something shifted in her chest.
"Coming from you," she said after a moment, "that almost sounded like a compliment."
"Don't get used to it."
A breath of laughter escaped her lips.
But beneath that banter, there was something blooming. The kind of understanding that didn't need grand gestures—just presence. Respect. Trust earned in fire.
Zhen stood and gathered the folders. "There's a strategy meeting tomorrow at nine. You're in."
"Good," she replied, grabbing her coat. "I wouldn't miss it."
As she reached the door, she paused. "Zhen?"
He looked up.
"Thanks for not pushing me aside today."
He nodded once. "Thanks for not letting me down."
The door closed behind her.
Inside the room, Zhen exhaled slowly.
Outside, Ruoxi smiled.
Something was changing. Neither of them knew where it was going yet.
But it had begun.