Chapter 3: The Ice Floor

The 68th floor of Chengshi Holdings was exactly what Suowei expected from a man like Chi Cheng — sterile, silent, and so clean it made him nervous to breathe too hard.

Glass walls. Glossy floors. White orchids spaced like trophies. Even the air smelled filtered — like it had gone through five rounds of purification before being allowed to enter. Employees moved quietly, dressed like they’d been born wearing black and grey.

Wu Suowei stood at the edge of the logistics wing, still holding a company-issued clipboard, already regretting all his life decisions.

“This is what you’ll be doing,” said a man named Zhang, who looked permanently exhausted despite his immaculate hair. He gestured to a cart stacked with various office supplies, a scanner, and what looked like an actual inventory catalog.

“You’re going to go to each department on this floor and manually verify items. Label discrepancies. Restock if needed. Don’t touch the executive offices unless summoned.”

Suowei raised a brow. “So I’m the human barcode?”

“Essentially,” Zhang said, then walked away.

Suowei looked down at the clipboard. “Wonderful. I always dreamed of joining the corporate elite through label stickers and printer toner.”

Still, he got to work.

Hour one: Someone slammed a door in his face.

Hour two: He knocked over a tray of branded pens and had to crawl under a conference table to retrieve them.

Hour three: He nearly walked into a glass wall, misreading the reflection of a hallway.

Hour four: He accidentally pressed the wrong floor button in the elevator and got trapped with a finance executive who smelled like expensive regret.

By lunch, he was ready to fake an injury and go home.

But just as he was about to retreat to the break room, Ms. Shen appeared. As always, silent and sudden.

“The President’s office. Now.”

Suowei blinked. “Huh? Me? Why?”

She didn’t answer. Just turned and walked. Like a well-tailored shadow.

He followed, heart pounding. This was it. Either Chi Cheng had figured out he wasn’t qualified and was about to throw him out a window, or—

—or worse, he was going to stare at him in silence again.

The door to the office was already open. Ms. Shen stepped aside and gestured him in.

Chi Cheng sat at a long, dark wood desk, one hand resting near a tablet, the other tapping faintly against his jaw.

He didn’t look up when Suowei entered. “Close the door.”

Suowei did.

He waited.

Chi Cheng didn’t speak for a full twenty seconds. The ticking of an analog wall clock echoed louder with every breath.

Finally, Chi Cheng looked at him. His gaze was the same — cool, unreadable, like a glass of water that might be poison.

“You’ve mislabeled the supply report for the south conference wing.”

Suowei blinked. “...What?”

Chi Cheng slid the file across the desk. “The toner cartridges were already restocked yesterday. You marked them as missing.”

“Oh. Right.” Suowei scratched the back of his head. “Well, in my defense, I tripped over a vacuum cleaner and dropped half the report. It’s a miracle I’m even alive.”

Chi Cheng didn’t react.

Suowei smiled awkwardly. “That was a joke.”

“I don’t laugh during work hours.”

Suowei stared.

Chi Cheng met his gaze, steady. “Do you?”

Suowei tilted his head. “Do I what?”

“Take your job seriously.”

A pause.

It was one thing to be cold. Another to be rude. But Chi Cheng wasn’t either. He was just... testing. Not with cruelty — with precision. Like he was dissecting Suowei without drawing blood.

“I do,” Suowei said, quieter now. “More than you think.”

Chi Cheng nodded once. Dismissive. “Fix the report.”

Suowei turned, hand on the door, when he heard Chi Cheng say, almost absentmindedly:

“You’re different.”

He turned. “What?”

Chi Cheng didn’t look up again. “You don’t act like the others. That can be dangerous here.”

Suowei smiled, softer this time.

“Then it’s a good thing I didn’t come here to blend in.”

The door closed behind him.

Chi Cheng stared at the space he left.

And for the first time in a long time… he almost smiled.

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