Chapter Twenty-Five: The Enchantment of a Twisted Waist

Mai Xijun didn’t even bother making a detour; she simply hailed a cab and headed straight for the office. Why did it feel like she’d tried to steal a chicken and ended up losing the rice, skulking away like a thief? And the worst part was that the jewelry exhibition had just been held yesterday. As was customary, any company event inevitably meant that the subsequent meetings would be an ordeal, pushing the very limits of human endurance.

Ever since Mai Xijun had started working here, at least ninety percent of her regular office hours had been spent in meetings. The impromptu sessions before events didn’t even count; the big meetings would devour entire mornings or afternoons, and sometimes that still wasn’t enough! Today was bound to be another company-wide assembly, with the president, Luo Youcong, in attendance. And yet, she was late—unbelievably, inexcusably late.

The meeting was supposed to start at nine, and by the time she arrived, it was nearly over…

She really was late this time. When misfortune strikes, even drinking cold water can get something stuck in your teeth. On top of everything, she ran into traffic, had to get out midway, and dashed the rest of the way to the office in her heels. By the time she finally reached the building, she was almost out of breath.

Standing outside the conference room, she saw that the room was packed with company executives and designers. Her abrupt, breathless entrance brought the meeting to a halt, and every pair of eyes turned to her in astonishment.

“President Luo, I’m sorry! I’m late!” Mai Xijun bowed her head, sweat beading on her forehead, her apology sincere. She’d hurriedly put her shoes back on before entering the lobby, but judging by her current state, she couldn’t possibly look more disheveled.

Luo Youcong glanced at her, then gestured with his hand, “Go take your seat quickly. After the meeting, go to the HR department and get a copy of today’s meeting notes to review.”

Surprisingly, Luo Youcong was uncharacteristically mild-mannered. Flustered by this unexpected leniency, Mai Xijun made her way to an empty seat, while everyone else exchanged silent glances but dared not utter a word.

He Jingjing had been staring at Mai Xijun from the moment she entered until the meeting ended, as if intent on finding some flaw or weakness. Meanwhile, Xue Lizan’s frown finally relaxed when she appeared—yet when their eyes met, he quickly averted his gaze.

Once the meeting ended, Mai Xijun retreated to her office. She had barely settled in, taking a much-needed breath, her mind still reeling, when someone knocked at her door.

“Come in!” she called, summoning all her energy as she tidied the papers on her desk.

But thankfully, Luo Youcong hadn’t lost his temper—wasn’t he notorious for his intolerance toward lateness and tardiness at meetings? As she absentmindedly sorted her documents, she glanced at the door and was so startled she nearly cried out.

Speak of the devil—there he was! She hardly had time to steady her racing heart. In a flash, she sprang up from her chair, pasted a bright smile on her face, and stood before him with hands respectfully folded, “Hello, President Luo!”

She had just been wondering about Luo Youcong’s unusual behavior, and now he’d come to see her personally? Hadn’t she always been on the receiving end of his coldness? What was going on today? Was it a harbinger of a storm?

Luo Youcong’s expression was as impassive as ever, but not nearly as handsome as Shen Yanlie’s version of stoicism. At least Shen Yanlie was easy on the eyes, whereas her boss, Luo Youcong, was like a stern magistrate. Both men were intimidatingly tall, models in stature, but Shen Yanlie looked sturdier, even though he was lean—he was all muscle.

Oh, heavens! Mai Xijun almost wanted to knock herself on the head. How could she be thinking of him at a time like this, even comparing him to her boss? Was she out of her mind? She sighed in exasperation at her own hopelessness. Only when she remembered that Luo Youcong was standing not far in front of her did she realize just how far her thoughts had wandered.

What’s the end of the world? It’s when you max out all your credit cards; when you finally tell off the colleagues, classmates, and supervisors you detest; when you confess your affair to your wife or your feelings to your best friend, determined to leave no regrets; when December 21st comes and goes, and the sun rises as usual the next day. That’s the end of the world.

As for Luo Youcong, aside from scolding people with a dark face, he was merciless with penalties too. Late to a meeting? One hundred per minute. One hundred yuan, for heaven’s sake! He could afford to be generous, but she was just an ordinary office worker. How many minutes had she been late? There went two or three months’ wages, if not more.

Mai Xijun silently cursed Luo Youcong a thousand times over, venting her grievances in her mind, only to suddenly realize that he was quietly studying her, as if trying to read her thoughts and observe her every move.

She bit her lower lip. “President Luo, is there something you need?”

His expression softened ever so slightly to match her own. “Here are the meeting notes from today. Take a look.”

He stepped forward and handed her the file, making his purpose clear. In that instant, it felt as if she had been promoted from a disregarded servant to a trusted steward.

What was wrong with Luo Youcong today? Mai Xijun wondered inwardly. Was this the calm before the storm?

“Thank you, President Luo!” she chirped, hurrying over to receive the paperwork. For him to bring it to her office personally—was this her moment to shine, or was she about to meet her doom? Was she going to be sent to HR tomorrow to collect her final paycheck?

She was torn with uncertainty.

Luo Youcong turned to leave, but paused at the door as if recalling something. “Oh, by the way, there’s a banquet tomorrow night. Prepare to come with me.”

What?

Creak—

“Uh…” Mai Xijun frowned, gritting her teeth and forcing out a smile, “Is it a company celebration?”

“No, it’s a personal dinner. Are you all right?” Luo Youcong’s face remained as icy as ever.

“I’m fine, but thank you for your concern.” She endured the sharp pain in her back, smiling through eyes that brimmed with unshed tears.

“That’s good.”

…

As she watched Luo Youcong leave, Mai Xijun could no longer suppress a cry—the way she’d twisted her waist left her rooted to the spot, unable to move an inch.

But a personal dinner, not a company celebration?

Luo Youcong’s personal banquet? She, who was usually overlooked by his icy demeanor, was now to accompany him to a banquet?