The meeting room was already full when Zhao Chen walked in.
Three investors sat across the long table, their expressions composed, their posture relaxed but attentive. Behind him, the projection screen cast a soft glow across the room. The faint hum of the equipment blended with the low, distant sounds of the office outside.
Everything had been prepared.
Everything was in place.
Zhao Chen adjusted his sleeves and set his laptop down, taking a quiet breath before connecting it.
For a brief moment, his gaze shifted.
Lin Xue sat to the side, slightly removed from the main table.
Her back was straight, her hands resting neatly in her lap. Her expression was calm, almost detached, as if the outcome of the meeting held no weight over her at all.
Just like always.
"Shall we begin?" one of the investors said.
Zhao Chen nodded. "Yes."
The screen flickered as the presentation appeared.
The first few slides progressed without issue.
His voice was steady, his tone measured. Each point was delivered with practiced clarity, supported by clean visuals and structured data. The investors listened quietly, occasionally exchanging brief glances, but offered no interruptions.
The rhythm settled.
Controlled.
Predictable.
Zhao Chen felt his earlier unease fade slightly.
This was familiar territory.
Lin Xue watched in silence.
Her expression remained unchanged, but her attention moved with precision.
Every word.
Every number.
Every subtle reaction that passed across the investors' faces.
She wasn't nervous.
She wasn't uncertain.
She was simply waiting.
Zhao Chen moved forward.
"This section outlines our projected growth over the next two quarters," he said, clicking to the next slide.
A chart appeared—clean, organized, easy to follow.
"As you can see, our estimated return—"
"Wait."
The interruption cut through the flow cleanly.
Zhao Chen paused mid-sentence. "Yes?"
One of the investors leaned forward slightly, his gaze fixed on the screen.
"Can you explain this figure?"
Zhao Chen turned toward the projection.
At first glance, nothing seemed unusual.
Then—
he saw it.
A brief flicker crossed his expression.
Small.
Controlled.
But not invisible.
Lin Xue noticed.
"That number," the investor said, tapping lightly against the table, "it doesn't match the data you submitted earlier."
For a moment, Zhao Chen's mind went completely blank.
He looked again.
Then quickly turned back to his laptop.
His fingers moved across the keyboard, pulling up the previous report. He scanned through the figures, comparing them side by side.
The difference was slight.
But it wasn't something that could be dismissed.
"There must be an error," Zhao Chen said.
His voice held.
But the confidence beneath it had thinned.
"What kind of error?" another investor asked.
Zhao Chen didn't answer immediately.
He stared at the screen, then back at the file, trying to trace the source.
The numbers didn't align.
The logic didn't follow.
Nothing explained the discrepancy.
Lin Xue lowered her gaze slightly.
Her expression remained composed.
She had adjusted the number with care.
Just enough to slip past a surface review.
Not enough to withstand attention.
"You're presenting financial projections," one of the investors said, his tone sharpening slightly. "Accuracy is the foundation of that."
"I understand," Zhao Chen replied quickly. "Let me verify the—"
"Now?" the man interrupted. "During the meeting?"
The room fell into silence.
The faint hum of the projector seemed louder now.
Zhao Chen felt it—the shift.
The subtle change in the atmosphere.
What had been controlled moments ago now felt uncertain.
Unstable.
He tried to recover.
"The rest of the data is consistent. This appears to be an isolated inconsistency—"
"How can we be sure?" another investor asked.
The question settled heavily in the room.
No one spoke.
Zhao Chen's grip tightened slightly against the edge of the table.
This was going wrong.
Too quickly.
Almost instinctively, he turned his head.
His gaze found Lin Xue.
For a moment, their eyes met.
She looked back at him calmly.
Focused.
Unmoved.
As if she were simply observing.
There was no urgency.
No tension.
No sign of involvement.
"Lin Xue," Zhao Chen said, his voice quieter now, "can you take a look?"
All attention shifted toward her.
She rose without hesitation.
Her movements were steady, unhurried.
There was no rush in her steps as she walked to the front.
She glanced at the screen, then leaned slightly toward the laptop. Her fingers moved lightly across the keyboard, opening the relevant file.
A few seconds passed.
"It appears to be a calculation mismatch," she said.
Her tone was clear.
Professional.
Zhao Chen exhaled faintly. "Yes, that's what I was—"
"The base figure was modified," Lin Xue continued, her voice even, "but the projection wasn't updated accordingly."
Zhao Chen froze.
The investor's gaze sharpened. "So the data is incorrect?"
Lin Xue paused, as if confirming one last time.
Then she nodded.
"Yes. This portion isn't accurate."
Silence filled the room.
Heavier this time.
More definitive.
Zhao Chen felt something tighten in his chest.
She didn't soften it.
Didn't leave room for interpretation.
Didn't give him a way to redirect.
"How did this happen?" one of the investors asked.
Lin Xue stepped back slightly.
"It may have occurred during final adjustments," she said.
Her tone remained neutral.
She didn't look at Zhao Chen.
But everyone else did.
Zhao Chen opened his mouth.
Then stopped.
Because he didn't have an answer.
The meeting continued.
But something essential had already been lost.
The rhythm was gone.
Each explanation felt forced.
Each number felt fragile.
The investors no longer interrupted.
But their silence was no longer patient.
It was distant.
Measured.
Evaluating.
When the presentation ended, they stood without lingering.
Polite acknowledgments were exchanged.
Nothing more.
The door closed behind them with a quiet click.
And the room fell still.
Zhao Chen remained standing.
He didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Lin Xue closed the laptop gently.
The soft click echoed faintly in the quiet space.
For a few seconds, neither of them said anything.
Then—
"…What was that?"
Zhao Chen's voice was low.
Not angry.
Just strained.
Lin Xue looked at him.
"There was a mismatch," she said.
"You checked the file yesterday."
"I did."
"Then how did this happen?"
She paused briefly.
"You made changes afterward."
The answer came simply.
Directly.
Zhao Chen frowned slightly.
He had reviewed the file again the previous night.
Made a few adjustments.
Nothing major.
At least, that's what he remembered.
Now—
he wasn't sure.
Lin Xue picked up her bag.
"I'll go through everything again," she said. "To make sure it doesn't happen next time."
Her tone was calm.
Reliable.
Unchanged.
Zhao Chen watched her for a moment.
Something felt off.
But it slipped through his grasp before he could define it.
"…Alright," he said finally.
Lin Xue left the room without another word.
Zhao Chen didn't follow immediately.
He remained where he was.
The empty room felt larger now.
Quieter.
He slowly sat down.
His gaze drifted toward the screen, still faintly glowing.
The chart remained there.
Unchanged.
But it looked different now.
He replayed the moment in his mind—
The question.
The pause.
The shift in their expressions.
His jaw tightened slightly.
It was a small error.
It shouldn't have escalated like that.
…So why did it feel like he had lost more than just a number?
By the time Lin Xue stepped out of the building, evening had settled over the city.
The glass doors slid open, letting in a wave of cool air mixed with the distant noise of traffic.
Streetlights flickered on one by one.
Near the entrance, Liu Yuer stood with her phone in hand.
She looked like she had been waiting.
But not idly.
When she saw Lin Xue, she straightened slightly.
"You're done?" she asked, slipping her phone into her bag.
"There was a small issue," Lin Xue replied.
Liu Yuer's brows lifted. "Small?"
"I was nearby," she said casually. "Thought I'd check how it went."
Her tone was light.
But her gaze lingered.
Careful.
Searching.
Lin Xue met it without hesitation.
"It's already being handled."
For a brief moment, neither spoke.
Then Liu Yuer nodded.
"Alright."
A faint smile formed on her lips.
Polite.
Measured.
But it didn't fully reach her eyes.
Lin Xue didn't stay.
She walked past her and into the evening.
As her figure disappeared into the dimming street, Liu Yuer remained where she was.
Her fingers tightened slightly around her phone.
For some reason—
the situation didn't feel as simple as it sounded.
Later that night, Lin Xue stood by the window.
The city stretched out before her, bright and unchanged.
Lights flickered across buildings.
Cars moved steadily along distant roads.
On the surface, everything remained the same.
But she knew better.
This wasn't about one meeting.
It wasn't about one mistake.
It was about direction.
Once doubt appeared—
it would grow on its own.
Her reflection stared back at her in the glass.
Calm.
Steady.
Certain.
"Zhao Chen," she said softly,
"This is only the beginning."