Chapter 3: Admiration for President Mo

It wasn't until Tang Pei finally asked her, “Why did you choose ‘Sky City’?”

Why?

Linglan met his gaze. Her desire to enter ‘Sky City’ was as if she’d staked herself as a wager, a solitary throw of the dice.

Tang Pei saw the fleeting confusion in her clear eyes; her thoughts had drifted away.

Suddenly, a commotion arose at the door. Tang Pei’s eyes darted over, landing on the solid wooden door behind her. Several assistants hurried by, their expressions anxious and at a loss. Who would interrupt the interview midway?

Linglan sensed the sudden change in Tang Pei’s demeanor and grew uneasy—had something gone wrong again? Yet the room instantly fell silent. She saw Tang Pei rise swiftly to his feet, everyone else straightening with respect. Instinctively, she turned back. The door to the meeting room was gently pushed open. It was as if the haze had cleared, and a man’s figure stepped in gracefully.

She remembered the morning light that day, as sharp as lightning, stabbing her eyes until she had to squint. She saw a golden radiance haloed around him, indistinct and shimmering. She watched as he moved, the backlight sculpting his cold, handsome features. Dressed in a black suit, he seemed to blend with the surroundings, the silver cufflinks on his sleeves gleaming. In his stride was a power as unshakable as Mount Tai.

The group stepped back, parting to make way. Tang Pei politely pulled out a chair for the man and murmured, “President Mo—”

Ye Linglan’s heart jolted. This was Mo Zhicheng, the largest shareholder of ‘Sky City’ Group, controller of a third of Nanjing’s economy!

By rights, Tang Pei was in charge of this recruitment, but no one had expected President Mo to arrive in person. The atmosphere in the vast conference room grew tense, as if a drawn arrow was ready to fly; everyone held their breath.

Silence.

Only the ticking of the clock on the wall could be heard, mingling with her heartbeat, echoing in the still air. Mo Zhicheng’s expression remained unchanged. He took the folder from the table, nodded slightly, and said in a low voice, “Continue.”

In his deep tone there was a sharp edge.

Out of both courtesy and instinctive caution, her gaze fell only on his sharply defined jaw. “First, ‘Sky City’ is rich in talent, with a strong team and robust support for new recruits. For someone starting out, there are better opportunities for advancement and learning.” These were words for form’s sake. Linglan sighed inwardly, but then took a risk. “Second... I came here because of your reputation. I’ve long admired you, President Mo. To have built the city’s largest casino by the age of thirty-four, to possess such a foundation and success—many people spend their whole lives chasing it, but never even come close.”

Shock filled the room. Tang Pei glanced sideways at her; no one dared speak so bluntly!

The conference room fell into a heavy silence, pressed down by an overwhelming aura. She waited, waited for his response—but silence was all she received.

Unconsciously, Linglan looked up, only to meet those pitch-black eyes. He glanced her way, cold and indifferent.

***

Deep in the night, all was still.

Linglan collapsed into bed, spent, like a deflated balloon. Recalling the day’s interview, when Mo Zhicheng had not uttered a word, she knew she’d made a perilous move. Her only impression of that man was how deeply he concealed himself—a depth without end.

She picked up her phone and logged into QQ. Ye Shenghan’s avatar was still lit. Linglan typed, deleted, hesitated, then finally sent a message: Young Master Ye, the interview went awry; I’m not at all certain of the outcome.

She stared at the screen, watching his avatar flicker until, at last, it turned grey. Disappointed, she sighed, closed her eyes, and let the phone slip from her grasp. The room felt as cold as ice. She shivered, curling in on herself, hugging her body as if returning to the womb.

Images flickered through her mind. She opened her eyes, unable to let it go. Rising, she grabbed her coat and hurried out. Under the night sky, a fine rain fell in disarray. She nearly ran to that old, worn building, breathless as she dialed the number. The droning of the ringtone sounded heavy in her ear until, finally, it connected. She steadied her breath and said softly, “Young Master Ye, I’m downstairs at your place.”

Waiting was a torment tinged with happiness.

She watched as a figure emerged from the darkness, the warm glow of a lamp cast a faint halo, filtering through the leaves, dappling the man’s face with sparse, lonely light.

“Young Master Ye.”

The words slipped out before she realized, her brow furrowing slightly, as if in a dream. Rain fell with the wind against her pale cheeks, the chill making her shudder. She saw him standing on the steps not far away; the cold wind and slanting rain seemed to carve a chasm between them.

“The signal was bad—I just got your message,” Ye Shenghan spoke. “You’ve had a hard day.”

Ye Linglan bit her lip. “Young Master Ye, Mo Zhicheng showed up at the interview out of nowhere. I took a risk—I was too impatient for success.”