The report was corrected.
Suowei made sure of it. Every misplaced checkmark, every minor oversight — fixed. Not because he cared about toner or corporate order, but because he knew Chi Cheng would read every single word.
That man didn’t miss anything. Not a typo, not a smirk, not the difference between sarcasm and sincerity.
He wasn’t just cold — he was clinical. And Suowei had the strange feeling he was being studied like a sample under a microscope.
Still, something about the interaction stuck in his mind.
> “You’re different.”
It wasn’t praise. It wasn’t even personal. But it lingered in Suowei’s chest like heat pressed against frozen glass.
He didn’t know if Chi Cheng noticed people often. But he had noticed him.
And that meant Suowei was getting somewhere.
Even if he had no idea where that “somewhere” was.
---
On Thursday, Suowei found himself reorganizing the executive lounge supply room when someone shut the door behind him.
He turned around too fast and dropped a box of stir sticks.
“Oh, god—okay,” he muttered. “Not dead. Just buried in plastic coffee trash.”
He was still crouched when the door opened again.
Footsteps. Polished shoes. Familiar silence.
Chi Cheng.
Suowei looked up, heart tripping over itself. He tried to stand too quickly, hit his head on a shelf, and immediately winced.
Chi Cheng stared at him blankly.
“You’re a danger to yourself.”
Suowei rubbed his scalp. “Thank you, sir. I was hoping for a motivational speech today.”
Chi Cheng stepped fully into the room. The air shifted — not because he moved, but because he existed in a way that demanded gravity adjust itself.
“Your internship was supposed to last a week,” Chi Cheng said.
Suowei blinked. “I’ve only been here four days.”
Chi Cheng didn’t answer right away. He studied him — not with amusement or annoyance, but with that same unnerving neutrality. Like he was trying to figure out what Wu Suowei was doing there, why he hadn't given up, why he didn't look afraid.
“I reviewed your background,” Chi Cheng said finally.
Suowei’s breath hitched.
> Oh. Shit.
Fake resume. Made-up recommendation. A university he technically dropped out of.
He forced a laugh. “That must’ve been… entertaining.”
Chi Cheng narrowed his eyes.
“Creative,” he said.
Silence.
Not "fraudulent." Not "pathetic." Just… creative.
Suowei was thrown off. He tried to recover with charm. “Did I at least get points for effort?”
“You got curiosity,” Chi Cheng said.
That shut him up.
Chi Cheng stepped closer. Just one step. But in a room this small, it felt like a storm front approaching.
“You’re not afraid of me,” Chi Cheng said quietly.
Suowei swallowed.
“No.”
Chi Cheng tilted his head. “You should be.”
And then he walked out — coat brushing Suowei’s leg as he passed. The door closed softly behind him.
---
That night, Suowei lay in bed staring at the ceiling of his shoebox apartment. His heart was still beating too fast.
He’d come here for revenge.
He was supposed to seduce Chi Cheng. Get inside his life. Make his ex-girlfriend jealous. That was the plan.
So why did it feel like he was the one being undone?
He threw an arm over his face and groaned.
“I was supposed to be the fire,” he muttered to himself.
“But why the hell does the ice burn more?”
---
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