Wen Yin stared at the little cat avatar on her screen and drew a blank. She had no idea who it belonged to.
Curiosity prickled at her. She opened the chat and read the message—
Wen Yin-jie, hi! I’m Sha Sha from the team next door~ Just letting you know a few things~
She ran through the list of designers in the other team in her head and remembered there was indeed a newcomer named Sha Sha. She accepted the friend request almost immediately. The reply came the next second.
[Sha Sha: Wen Yin-jie, there’s a morning meeting at 7 tomorrow. Don’t forget to bring your materials~]
Wen Yin sent back an OK-hand emoji and tucked the reminder away. At home she skimmed through her materials for the last show, made a quick tidy of the files, then fell into bed without properly putting anything away.
The next morning she’d set her alarm early and swiped her access card into the building only to find the office empty. A puzzled thought flickered through her, but she pushed on toward the conference room. The corridors were deserted; not a single coworker crossed her path. An odd unease settled at the base of her throat.
The feeling peaked when she threw the conference room door open—and found it empty.
She pulled out her phone to double-check the time, glanced at the cat avatar on the screen, and checked again. She hadn’t misread it. Sha Sha had said seven o’clock.
The vacant room felt like a slap in the face.
Wen Yin closed the door calmly, her expression as composed as ever. She’d rushed out that morning without breakfast; when she finally ate something downstairs she saw more people trickling into the office. Back at her desk, she was reviewing her notes when a shadow fell beside her.
Their design department was split into several small teams; Wen Yin, the new hire, was in Team A. Jiu Jiu from her group stood there with a puzzled look. “Wen Yin-jie, how come you’re here so early?” she asked.
Seeing the blank confusion on Wen Yin’s face, a piece fell into place for her. “Wasn’t there supposed to be a meeting at seven? I came for that,” Wen Yin said, voice steady, emotionless on the surface—even though she’d already been waiting over an hour.
Jiu Jiu’s brow creased. “A meeting? No, that was moved to ten. They announced it last night. Didn’t you get the notice?”
Wen Yin had already guessed the truth. Someone was trying to make trouble for her.
“No one told me,” she said plainly, and though she knew where the misstep had come from, she didn’t mention Sha Sha’s name.
She’d only started last week and had been swamped with the debut show; she hadn’t been added to the work chat in time. If Sha Sha hadn’t messaged her directly last night, she would never have known to show up at seven.
“Sorry, I’m not in the group yet—can you add me?” Wen Yin asked with a small smile that made her look unexpectedly soft.
Jiu Jiu stared for a beat. Wen Yin’s face was the kind of striking that stopped one in their tracks: usually cool and a little distant, but when she smiled it was like snowcapped peaks thawing—pure and clear. Jiu Jiu’s cheeks flushed and she stammered, “O—okay!”
Wen Yin laughed and waved her phone. “Mind if I scan your code?”
Soon she was in the group and had Jiu Jiu added to her contacts. The brief chat had left Jiu Jiu with a warm impression. Celebrities in her memory were often aloof, like moons you could see but never touch—yet Wen Yin’s smile made people want to step closer.
Wen Yin probed casually, “Do you know Sha Sha?”
Jiu Jiu pushed up her black-framed glasses and thought it over before answering cautiously. “Isn’t she a designer in Team C? Actually, she was supposed to be in charge of the product launch you worked on. But… she didn’t do very well.”
“She had a bunch of proposals sent back by Director Wu, and she’s been caught slacking on the job more than once,” Jiu Jiu went on, warmed now by gossip’s momentum. “She lost the assignment and she’s been complaining about it to the others a lot… Kind of sour grapes, you know? Acting like she’s above it.”
Designers were filing into the office as Jiu Jiu talked. Wen Yin watched her lips move and cut her off at a convenient lull, giving a look that shut the subject down. Jiu Jiu got the hint and went back to her tasks.
By ten, the team was assembled and they drifted toward the conference room in small clusters. Jiu Jiu bounced over to Wen Yin, eager to point out faces and introduce everyone in a running whisper. They sat toward the back. Midway through their conversation the conference room door opened again.
A sharp, cheap perfume rolled in before the woman did.
Jiu Jiu’s expression changed like a switch being flipped; Wen Yin looked up, too. “Wen Yin-jie—that’s Sha Sha,” Jiu Jiu whispered.
Sha Sha swept into the room in a blood-red dress, brand logos stacked atop brand logos, an outfit that read loud but oddly tacky. She strutted through the aisles like she owned the place. When her gaze landed on Wen Yin, she paused long enough to appraise her with an air of superiority, a sneer tucked behind those designer lashes.
The meeting ran until noon. Wen Yin and Jiu Jiu rolled up their notes and stood, ready to leave when Sha Sha materialized between them, arms folded. “Wen Yin-jie,” she drawled, forcing a smile, “I’m Sha Sha—the one who messaged you last night~”
Jiu Jiu pressed her lips together, clearly not inclined to be friendly. Wen Yin ignored the extended hand and tilted her head, looking at Sha Sha with the sort of calm that hinted at a smile and a threat at the same time. Her lips parted, red and quiet.
“I know you,” she said, voice cool. “You’re the one who told me the meeting was at seven.”