Chapter 8: The Tie

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“Secretary Cen, my tie is a bit crooked.”

As soon as Su Xingzhi got off the elevator, he noticed the secretary’s desk was empty. His steps faltered for a moment, a flicker of displeasure crossing his face.

He had an excellent memory and was certain his secretary should have been at work today.

Late on her very first day? Such audacity was truly astounding.

He entered the office and called HR on the internal line. On the other end, the HR representative chuckled, “No, President Su, Secretary Cen arrived half an hour early. She just came downstairs to find me, said she wanted to quickly get familiar with the environment, so I arranged for Xiao Chen from Marketing to guide her and help her learn.”

Su Xingzhi was about to say more, but even through the phone line, the HR rep could sense the boss’s displeasure: “My secretary needs no one to teach her.”

The HR suddenly grew nervous, wondering silently, if no one was needed to teach her, did Secretary Cen teach herself?

…

After answering the call, Secretary Cen came up quite quickly.

Hearing a knock on the door, Su Xingzhi set down his documents and leaned back in his chair. “Come in.”

The sharp click of high heels sounded. The young secretary entered, dressed in a standard professional suit, wearing her ID badge around her neck, with a slender figure and impeccable posture. “President Su, did you call me?”

“Mm.” Su Xingzhi responded, glancing over her attire. There was nothing wrong with it—unlike most new hires, who often had wardrobe mishaps on their first day.

She seemed adept at blending into a new environment; at a glance, she was indistinguishable from a seasoned employee.

Su Xingzhi was fairly satisfied. He didn’t care much about a woman’s dress or looks, often unable to tell one from another, so he rarely paid attention.

But having a secretary who appeared weak or unprepared was unacceptable; she had to be confident and presentable.

“What did you learn downstairs?” he asked, tapping his fingers lightly on the desk.

What kind of question was that? It oddly reminded Secretary Cen of being randomly quizzed by a teacher after class. She pursed her lips, but since he was the big boss, she thought for a moment and answered, “I met several department heads and studied the company’s founding history.”

“Good.” Su Xingzhi nodded, satisfied. He typed a few keys, pulled out a USB drive casually, and tossed it toward her.

Secretary Cen reacted swiftly, leaning forward and catching it deftly.

He then said, “Memorize everything on this.”

“All right.” She agreed and turned to leave.

“Where are you going?” he called after her.

She glanced back, puzzled. “To plug in the USB outside. Didn’t you want me to memorize its contents?”

Leaning back comfortably behind the large desk, he stared at her for a moment before saying, “Bring your computer in here. Study on the sofa.”

Probably worried someone might see the screen outside, Secretary Cen nodded, retrieved the new laptop she had just been given, and returned to the president’s office.

The office was spacious but sparsely furnished. Aside from the desk and chair, there was only a sofa directly opposite.

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Secretary Cen sat down. Looking up, she caught sight of the boss’s cold, handsome face and felt uneasy, as if every move she made was under surveillance.

Outside the vast floor-to-ceiling window stretched the bustling city skyline. The rows of cars on the street below snaked like a slow-moving dragon.

The air conditioning was set rather low. She pulled a blanket over her lap, opened the laptop, and inserted the USB.

A folder popped up, containing dozens of subfolders, each labeled with a number and title, neatly categorized. Opening one revealed PNG images—photos and biographies of various people.

She was expected to memorize their names and faces.

Scrolling through roughly, she noticed many were notable local figures and business magnates. Their personalities and secret hobbies were even noted—leaking such information would be disastrous.

Despite her composure, Secretary Cen felt a flicker of surprise. What she held was essentially a thick network map of contacts.

Calming herself, she looked up at the man opposite.

Su Xingzhi also looked up and glanced at her indifferently. “Destroy the files after you finish. Don’t leave any records.”

“Understood.” She nodded quickly, reopened the first image, staring intently at the photo for a few seconds. Closing her eyes, the person’s features etched deeply into her mind.

Memorization sometimes came naturally. Secretary Cen had shown exceptional talent since childhood—not only in recognizing faces but also in retaining text.

As she flipped through the folders, she gradually became engrossed, almost forgetting her surroundings. Her lips moved softly in silent repetition, occasionally clicking the mouse.

Time passed unknowingly. Just as she was deeply absorbed, someone called her, “Secretary Cen.”

“Ah?” She blinked, momentarily dazed, remembering her location.

Across from her, Su Xingzhi had stopped working without her noticing. Sitting with legs crossed, elbows resting on knees, he watched her intently.

Dressed in a black suit, his aura was unexpectedly severe.

Wondering where she might have offended this president again, Secretary Cen closed her laptop and met his gaze calmly.

One second, two seconds, five seconds passed in silence, the air almost freezing. Then Su Xingzhi pressed a button, revealing a hidden door. “Go inside and memorize.”

Secretary Cen had wondered about the minimal furnishings in the office. Now she understood—there was another room next to it, its door concealed in the white wall without a trace.

“Did I disturb you?” she asked as she stood, puzzled since she hadn’t made a sound.

No answer came. She obediently grabbed the laptop and moved into the hidden room.

The door closed slowly, likely remotely controlled, muffling all outside noise.

Looking around, she saw the room was much smaller and more enclosed than the outer office. Apart from the window, three walls surrounded her. The only door led back to the president’s office.

Near the window was a simple bed. Opposite stood a clothes rack with several suits and shirts. A sofa and water dispenser completed the space—clearly where Su Xingzhi rested.

She adjusted the air conditioner to a warmer setting and carefully sat on the sofa, leaving everything else untouched, returning her focus to the laptop.

Without the oppressive presence of the cold-faced president opposite her, Secretary Cen felt her efficiency improve. She flipped through the images more quickly.

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She had no idea how long Su Xingzhi expected her to finish memorizing everything. Regardless, she gave it her all, memorizing as much as she could.

Her stomach growled. Glancing at the time, she saw it was past 1 p.m. She went to the door and listened—there was complete silence outside.

Could it be that she wasn’t allowed out until she finished? Knowing Su Xingzhi’s character, she thought it quite likely.

Fortunately, she had brought a packed lunch prepared that morning, saving her the trouble of eating in the cafeteria. Although AsiaTech subsidized meal cards, she calculated it wasn’t very cost-effective.

Her wooden lunchbox was divided into two layers, filled to the brim. She had thoughtfully packed low-odor dishes: purple rice balls, stir-fried Chinese broccoli, and small sausages shaped like octopuses alongside rolled omelets—balanced and tasty.

She fetched warm water from the dispenser and finished her lunch before returning to her intense studying.

The scene reminded her of those days before the college entrance exam, sitting in the small woods behind the wheat fields, memorizing the social sciences. Back then, her diet was far poorer—sometimes a dry steamed bun would last all day, leaving her malnourished.

Afternoon sunlight filtered through the window, warmly draping over her. She squinted, briefly recalling past times, tilting her head back to rest against the soft sofa, feeling unexpectedly drowsy.

Though she was memorizing, moments of leisure like this were rare in her life, usually filled with constant rushing.

Checking her watch, it was already past 4 p.m.

…

She wasn’t sure when she had fallen asleep.

Maybe the sofa was too comfortable, or the mental exertion had worn her out. Either way, she remained seated, head leaning back, brow slightly furrowed, drifting into sleep.

Her dreams were hazy and gray, with no clear storyline.

A faint ‘click’ startled her awake.

The sky had darkened. The room was dim, with no lights on. A tall man stood with his back to her, slowly putting on a suit jacket from the clothes rack.

Her head was resting on the sofa armrest, hair tousled. Secretary Cen quickly straightened, massaging her neck with a soft sigh—holding one position too long had given her a stiff neck.

Annoyed with herself, she tidied her clothes and hair, then stood and apologized, “Sorry, President Su, I fell asleep just now.”

“Mm, it’s fine.” Contrary to her expectation of displeasure, Su Xingzhi’s tone was calm as he turned toward her.

In the dim light, his face was hard to see clearly, but his posture was as upright and elegant as ever. His dark eyes looked deeply at her. “Leave the computer here. You can clock out.”

“Oh, okay.” Not understanding why he didn’t turn on the lights, she followed him out to the president’s office.

The corridor lights were harsh, making her rub her eyes to adjust.

They walked in single file to the elevator, which opened quickly. It was empty inside, so she stepped in behind him.

Still groggy from waking, her mind was sluggish, lacking her usual sharpness. Leaning against the elevator wall, she couldn’t help but yawn.