Lin Xie stood in the middle of her dorm room, a single suitcase open on her bed. Her movements were mechanical, efficient—fold, compress, zip. She packed exactly four changes of clothing, two pairs of shoes, a compact toiletry bag, and her custom charger for her encrypted laptop. The only item that didn't match the precision of her packing was a navy blue hoodie tucked into the corner of the suitcase—slightly oversized. It wasn't hers.
She didn't explain it.
Ai Wen sat cross-legged on her bed, chewing the cap of her pen as she watched. "So… secret mission?"
Fei Yue leaned over from her desk, eyes wide. "Where are you going this time?"
"Xicheng," Lin Xie replied.
Ai Wen whistled. "They're flying you out? For what?"
Lin Xie didn't answer. She zipped the suitcase shut and checked her watch. "My ride will arrive in thirteen minutes."
Fei Yue exchanged a glance with Ai Wen. "Seriously, Lin, you vanish for days, show up looking like a model, and now you're packing up to fly across the country?"
"I have things to do," she said.
Ai Wen raised a brow. "Is this a CEO Shen Rui thing?"
Fei Yue's eyes widened. "Wait, he's involved?"
"I did not request it. He insisted."
Fei Yue nearly fell off her chair. "Wait, he's handling your flight and lodging?"
"I am capable of organizing it myself. He overrode me."
"God," Ai Wen muttered. "At this point, just tell us if you're already secretly married."
Lin Xie blinked. "No."
Fei Yue snorted. "Didn't say never, though."
She didn't respond. Instead, she picked up her suitcase and began moving toward the door.
"Lin," Ai Wen called. "You're not gonna tell us anything?"
"No," Lin Xie replied.
When she descended the dorm steps, a matte black car already idled by the curb. The driver opened the door with a practiced nod, but Lin Xie didn't acknowledge him. She slid into the backseat.
The car didn't take her to the airport.
It took her to CEO Shen Rui's building.
She entered through the underground lot, through the private elevator that required fingerprint access. Her thumb passed the sensor with a soft beep. When the elevator opened, she stepped into his top-floor office without hesitation.
CEO Shen Rui sat behind his desk, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened, reviewing something on his tablet. He didn't look up when she entered.
"I approved a wardrobe list," he said. "You'll need more than four outfits."
"I calculated sufficient changes for the duration."
"I recalculated with weather shifts and possible reshoots. You're underprepared."
She blinked. "Acknowledged."
A few bags sat to the side—simple, expensive. Clothing in her exact size.
He finally looked up. "And I had the hotel upgrade your suite."
"I do not require luxury."
He stood and walked over, stopping in front of her. "But I want you comfortable."
She stared up at him, unreadable. He reached over, brushing a lock of hair from her cheek.
Then, without warning, she launched upward.
Pressed her lips to his.
Straight, clean contact. No emotion in her face. No hesitation. She simply kissed him.
CEO Shen Rui let out a startled laugh against her mouth—low and amused—but he didn't pull away. His hand cupped the back of her head and kissed her back like he was already used to this brand of unpredictability. Like it didn't surprise him anymore. Like he liked it.
When they finally broke apart, he rested his forehead lightly against hers.
"You're going to kiss me like that every time you leave?" he asked, still smiling faintly.
"I find it… efficient."
He chuckled again, voice warm. "Then please keep being efficient."
She pulled back slightly.
"I will be in Xicheng for thirty-one days. I will not be able to return immediately if summoned."
"You're not an employee," he said. "You're mine."
She blinked once, her head tilting. "Clarify."
"I mean," he said with a small laugh, catching himself, "you can call me anytime. No matter what. I'll answer."
"Even if you're in a meeting?"
"Especially then."
She was quiet.
Then, "Understood."
He leaned down and pressed a gentler kiss to her lips this time. "Eat on time. Don't sleep too little. And don't short-circuit if someone asks for a selfie."
"I do not short-circuit."
He gave her a pointed look. "You glared at the intern yesterday because she sneezed while holding my coffee."
"She sneezed toward you. It was an act of biological aggression."
He laughed again and tugged her into a quick embrace.
"I'll miss you," he said softly.
She didn't reply. But she didn't move away either.
After a beat, she stepped back, adjusted her coat, and walked toward the door. At the last second, she turned.
"I will send updates."
"I'll wait."
The car waiting outside now had two suitcases—his additions included.
She didn't object.
As she slid into the seat, she glanced once back toward the tower. Her face showed nothing.
But the feeling inside her chest—undefined, faint, warm—pressed slightly against the edges of her code.
And for some reason, she didn't mind.
-----
The airport buzzed with static noise—rolling suitcases, intercom announcements, the low murmur of conversations blending into the cold hum of industrial lighting. Lin Xie walked through the terminal like a shadow detached from time. Alone, unbothered, eyes forward. She moved precisely, her expression blank as always, suitcase gliding behind her in silent rhythm.
Her boarding pass was scanned without issue. The attendant smiled, offered a polite "Have a nice flight." She didn't respond.
This wasn't her first time boarding a plane.
Just the first time where the destination wasn't marked by a kill order.
In the world she came from, air travel had been faster, quieter, far more advanced—but always laced with blood. She remembered stepping into a chrome shuttle with blades hidden inside her boots, a fake ID laced into her DNA strands, and a target's location embedded in the retinal corner of her vision. That flight had been calm too. Peaceful even. Until landing, where she had taken out four guards and one warlord in an alley behind a neon-lit tower.
Now, she boarded a commercial aircraft where an elderly man sneezed into his coat sleeve, a toddler wailed somewhere near the middle rows, and two teenage girls argued about idol rankings near the windows.
No security checks flagged her. No retinal scan picked up her redacted profile.
To them, she was just another girl flying economy to Xicheng.
She took her assigned seat—window side—and settled in without complaint. The flight attendant paused when she passed, blinking at her still, glassy stare.
"Would you like something to drink, miss?"
"No."
"Alright." The woman gave a tight smile and moved on.
Lin Xie stared out the window as the aircraft taxied.
Humans cried on planes. Laughed. Held hands during turbulence. She observed them with detached curiosity.
Her own hands were folded neatly on her lap, spine straight. No restlessness. No slouch. No anxiety.
Just stillness.
As the plane lifted from the tarmac and the world tilted beneath her, she felt the low hum of acceleration settle in her chest like a second heartbeat. Familiar.
It was quieter than the sound of subspace engines. Less dangerous. Slower. But still… reminiscent.
She thought, briefly, of her last mission before arriving in this timeline.
The mark had been tall. Confident. Armed.
He hadn't expected someone like her to be the assassin.
He hadn't even had time to speak before she slit his throat with a single movement.
She blinked. The memory faded as the clouds swallowed the windows.
Now, she was going to act.
Pretend.
Recite lines and expressions.
Play someone with feelings, goals, motivations she didn't understand.
CEO Shen Rui said she didn't need to prove anything. That she should just do what she wanted.
But what she wanted… was unclear.
So she followed the logical path forward.
Gather data.
Play the role.
Observe the effect.
Her eyes flicked to the seat pocket in front of her. The safety brochure. A cheap airline magazine. A QR code for inflight wifi.
All primitive.
Still, she pulled out her tablet and began reviewing the film script.
Page after page of dramatic monologues, romantic subtext, confrontations dripping with emotion.
She read them silently.
Her face remained blank the entire time.
But a small part of her—somewhere between calculation and pattern recognition—paused on one line:
"He never looked at me like that before."
She reread it twice.
Not for comprehension.
But because she thought… perhaps she had seen that look before. Reflected. In passing. In the way CEO Shen Rui stood a little too close when he didn't need to.
The plane hit a mild pocket of turbulence. Passengers gasped.
Lin Xie didn't move.
Her grip didn't change.
Her eyes remained locked on the screen.
By the time they touched down in Xicheng, she had memorized her lines, mapped the surrounding layout of the filming location via digital blueprint, and prepared five contingency plans.
She stepped off the plane the same way she boarded it.
Silent. Sharp. Unreadable.
But now… about to play human.
For thirty-one days.
The drive from the airport to the hotel was thirty-four minutes and twelve seconds.
Lin Xie sat in the backseat of the black car that waited at the arrival gate—clearly not part of the production crew. The windows were tinted, the leather immaculate, and the driver wore a suit with a discreet pin in the shape of Shen Conglomerate's logo. He didn't speak. She didn't either.
She recognized the route after the first few turns.
Of course CEO Shen Rui wouldn't leave her to the production van and cramped schedules.
She didn't object.
When the car finally pulled up to the hotel, the first thing she noticed was the logo above the grand entrance: L'Étoile Regency Xicheng. Five stars. Private elevators. Low-traffic lobby. Twenty-four-hour concierge. Advanced keycard encryption.
Acceptable.
She exited the car wordlessly. The driver opened the trunk, retrieved her suitcase, and handed her a small envelope embossed with her name.
Inside: a sleek access card, a handwritten note in precise black ink.
"Top floor. Suite 2701. No cameras. Call if anything isn't perfect. —R."
She read the note once. Folded it. Slipped it into her coat pocket.
The concierge stood up immediately as she entered the lobby.
"Welcome, Miss Lin. Your suite is ready. No need to check in. Please allow me to escort you."
"I can find it," she said, already scanning the elevator panel and calculating the likely layout of the 27th floor.
The concierge hesitated, nodded quickly, and bowed.
Her heels made almost no sound on the marble as she entered the elevator alone and pressed the button.
When the doors opened again, she stepped into silence.
The hallway smelled faintly of jasmine and leather.
Suite 2701 sat at the very end.
Her keycard clicked on the first try.
The door opened into a massive space—clean, minimalist, and clearly customized.
Her suitcase was already placed beside the bed.
Her favorite brand of mineral water lined the minibar.
The lighting had been adjusted to optimal brightness for retinal comfort.
Her laptop charger was already plugged into the wall.
And by the window, folded neatly, was a navy coat.
His.
She didn't smile.
She didn't react.
But she walked over and picked it up, holding it in both hands for a moment.
It was warm.
He had worn it recently.
She placed it carefully in the closet.
The suite had everything: a king-sized bed, voice-controlled room settings, blackout curtains, a workspace, and a breakfast area with a welcome platter she didn't touch.
She sat at the desk, opened her laptop, and sent a single encrypted message to CEO Shen Rui:
"I have arrived. The accommodations are acceptable."
He replied immediately.
"Did you eat?"
She stared at the blinking cursor.
"Not yet."
A pause. Then:
"Room service. Top menu tab. Get the steamed fish. And the ginger tea. I'll check."
She obeyed. Only because his instructions were always optimal.
While waiting, she inspected the suite's angles, tested the door locks, studied the balcony railing strength, and briefly examined the security sensors hidden in the ceiling corners.
Passable.
She ate in silence when the food arrived. Efficiently. Neatly.
Then returned to the desk, script in hand.
The sun set behind the city skyline outside the window, casting long gold reflections across the marble floor.
But Lin Xie barely noticed.
She had entered standby mode.
And tomorrow, the performance would begin.