Find out who she is
In the meeting room on the top floor of the office building, the floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the towering skyscrapers, the glass curtain walls reflecting a metallic sheen, and even the air is filled with a sense of oppression intertwined with money and power—every inch of this space is marked with a value that is difficult for ordinary people to reach.
Wei Ting sat in the main seat of the leather sofa, his dark gray custom-made suit accentuating his upright posture. The cuffs were casually rolled up, revealing the clearly visible veins on his pale forearms. He held an unlit cigar between his fingers, his knuckles distinct. Occasionally, he would lightly tap the table, the crisp sound remarkably clear in the quiet room, yet without a trace of anxiety.
The middle-aged man opposite me held his teacup, his fingertips tracing the rim, and said tentatively, "Mr. Wei, given the current market conditions, entering the market rashly is too risky. Perhaps we should observe for a while longer?"
Wei Ting raised his eyes, his dark eyes as deep as a cold pool. His gaze swept over the other man's tense profile, but he didn't reply. Instead, he gestured for his assistant to hand him a document. With a soft rustling of paper, his fingertip tapped on a page of data. His movements were composed, yet carried an undeniable weight: "Risk and reward are proportional. What I need is not stability, but the initiative."
The man lowered his head, flipping through the documents, his brows furrowing deeper and deeper. His Adam's apple bobbed twice, but he ultimately didn't refute. Wei Ting withdrew his gaze, looking out the window, his expression calm, as if the game before him was nothing more than a trivial matter. He exuded a composure cultivated over many years, maintaining control of the overall situation even amidst its complexity.
With this guest gone, the next group of meeting guests arrived in quick succession. The elderly man at the head of the group exuded a sharp aura, and as soon as he sat down, he posed a difficult question: "The losses from New York haven't been covered yet, and now you're back in China to leverage new resources. Mr. Wei, what makes us believe in you?"
Wei Ting twirled a cigar between his fingers, a faint smile playing on his lips. He didn't rush to defend himself, but slowly began to speak: "Because I haven't been eliminated by the market, because what I hold in my hands is a potential track that others can't see." His voice was deep and magnetic, devoid of any extra emotion, yet inherently persuasive.
The old man narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing him. Wei Ting met his gaze without flinching, his eyes revealing a sharpness and composure that mingled like a sword sheathed, its edge concealed yet its power undeniable. After a long silence, the old man slowly nodded: "I can give you a chance, but we want priority in the profit-sharing."
“No problem.” Wei Ting nodded, his tone still steady, as if he had already expected this outcome. He raised his hand to shake hands with the old man, his strength firm and steady, the warmth of his palm transmitting through his skin, exuding confidence.
Throughout the five consecutive meetings, from the first light of dawn to the fall of dusk, Wei Ting maintained his peak condition. There were no heated arguments, no lengthy rebuttals; every response was precise and concise, every decision decisive and swift. Even when faced with doubts and probing, he never showed the slightest sign of panic. His composure, remaining unmoved even in the face of imminent collapse, earned the silent admiration of everyone present.
After seeing off the last group of guests, the meeting room finally quieted down. Wei Ting leaned back on the sofa, rubbing his temples. A fleeting hint of weariness crossed his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by determination. He stood up and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, looking down at the microcosm of the city below. His fingertips traced the cool glass, his gaze deep and thoughtful.
Assistant Xia knocked on the door and entered, handing over a schedule: "Mr. Wei, the director of the ancient town film and television city project you invested in said that there are a few key scenes that need to be confirmed, and asked if you could spare some time to go there."
Wei Ting looked up, his fingertips still lightly tapping on the document: "What time?"
"They're ready to receive you tomorrow at 2 PM."
"Arrange a car." Wei Ting nodded, his gaze never leaving the paper, his tone calm and unwavering. "And send me the latest project progress report as well."
"Okay, Mr. Wei."
The early winter rain, damp and cold, pelted the bluestone slabs of the ancient film and television city, splashing up tiny droplets. Ning Zhichu, holding a black umbrella, followed behind Lin Man through the mud, preparing to conduct a cross-industry interview with the entrepreneur who was filming—an exclusive opportunity that Lin Man had worked hard to secure. Clutching the recorder, her eyes were full of excitement and seriousness.
In the rain, a crowd of staff gathered in front of the antique-style stage. Ning Zhichu was tidying up the equipment when, looking up, a tall figure caught her eye. Under the eaves, a man in a dark gray suit stood there, raindrops clinging to his pale forehead. His brow was sharp, and his dark eyes were as deep as an icy pool—it was the figure from that rainy New York night that she still remembered!
Her heart skipped a beat, and her fingers tightened around the umbrella handle, turning white at the tips, while her ears flushed uncontrollably. Lin Man, standing beside her, paused almost imperceptibly, her gaze sweeping over the people under the corridor, a complex emotion flashing in her eyes before returning to calm, though she glanced almost imperceptibly at Ning Zhichu's tense profile.
Wei Ting also saw Ning Zhichu. The girl's white shirt cuffs were stained with mud, but her back was still straight. Her eyes, bright as stars, instantly overlapped with his memory of the New York terrace. A faint surprise flashed in his eyes, and his fingertips unconsciously rubbed the watch on his wrist—this subtle movement was precisely caught by Lin Man. Her fingers, holding the coffee cup, tightened slightly. Back when he was studying abroad, Wei Ting only did this when he was restless.
The interviewee needed to film additional scenes, so Lin Man asked Ning Zhichu to wait in the corridor. She deliberately stood at a distance from Wei Ting, pretending her gaze was on the stage, but her eyes couldn't help but glance in his direction. He was listening to his assistant's report, his deep voice drowned out by the sound of rain, and the cool scent of cedar around him made her both curious and nervous. She wanted to go forward to confirm, but couldn't bring herself to take the step.
As the rain intensified, Ning Zhichu accidentally bumped into Wei Ting with the edge of her umbrella as she moved. "Sorry!" she apologized hastily, her cheeks burning hot. "Careful," Wei Ting's voice was crisp with the sound of rain; those two simple words made her heart pound as if it would burst from her chest.
Lin Man stood not far away, taking in Ning Zhichu's reddened ears and flustered eyes, and then at the fleeting smile in Wei Ting's eyes, she understood. She didn't speak, but simply lowered her head and sipped her coffee, concealing the ripples in her eyes—back when she was studying in New York, she had admired Wei Ting, but he had always been cold and aloof. His unusual reaction to a strange girl now made her heart sink slightly.
During the interview, Ning Zhichu suppressed her emotions, diligently taking notes. Occasionally, she would look up and catch Wei Ting's subtle gaze. She would quickly look away, but a slight smile involuntarily crept onto her lips. Lin Man observed all of this, but instead of saying anything, she quickened her pace with her questions, maintaining her professional and calm tone.
As she was leaving, Ning Zhichu couldn't help but look back, her eyes meeting Wei Ting's. His gaze was unfathomable, seemingly possessing a magnetic pull, causing her to momentarily lose her composure. It wasn't until Lin Man gently touched her arm that she hurriedly turned and rushed into the rain.
Wei Ting watched her hurried departure, a faint smile curving his lips as he finally lit a cigar. Amidst the swirling smoke, he took out his phone and sent a message to his assistant, Xia: "Investigate that female reporter who was following Lin Man earlier."
Wei Ting sat at his desk, swiping his finger across the tablet screen, where Ning Zhichu's information was clearly visible.
The girl in the photo has a bright, smiling face, her eyes as radiant as the summer sun—clean, vibrant, and unforgettable at first glance. Her resume, with the words "Recent Journalism Graduate" and "Three-month Internship," reveals the naivety and purity of someone just starting out in the workforce. A fleeting glimpse in the rainy New York night, a silent exchange on set—fragmented memories connect at this moment.
He needed the endorsement of top domestic financial media, and Lin Man's company was the best choice. And this newbie who had just entered the workplace happened to be one of Lin Man's employees. She was eye-catching, and her curiosity and panic were written all over her face. She was completely unsuspecting.
Wei Ting's lips curled into a faint smile, a hint of mischievous glint in his eyes. Using her platform to convey market confidence was a purely business decision, but the girl's vibrant beauty, coupled with her bewildered and helpless demeanor, piqued his curiosity.
"That's an interesting angle," he muttered to himself, his fingertips tracing her face on the screen, a sharp calculation flashing in his dark eyes. He needed the resources behind her, yet he also felt a growing curiosity about this pretty little rabbit who had stumbled into his game. This game seemed to be getting even more interesting.
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