The morning's work was nearly over. Shen Yueji saved her document, picked up her mug, and took a sip of water that had long since gone cold.
A sudden commotion erupted across the office, followed by the piercing scrape of chair legs against the floor. She set down her mug and craned her neck toward the stairwell. A heavily built middle-aged man had shoved two security guards backward. He held a fruit knife in one hand; with the other, he had seized Xiao Zhou, the receptionist, as she passed. The point of the blade pressed against her throat.
“Shengshi Group owes me for that construction job! Three years! If you won't let me make a living, none of you gets to live in peace!” His voice was rough, his eyes bloodshot.
Xiao Zhou had gone white with fear. Her lips trembled, but she could not speak. The knife point had left a pale indentation in her neck, with beads of blood beginning to seep out.
Deputy General Manager Chen had already arrived. Standing five paces away with both hands slightly raised, he kept his voice steady. “Sir, Shengshi Group always honors its contracts. I've looked into your case. The third-party subcontractor owes you that money; our company bears no direct responsibility. Put the knife down first. I'll have the contract brought out so we can go through it together.”
His words were reasonable and his manner gentle, but Shen Yueji saw his left hand slip behind his back and make a quick signal to the head of security. Apparently, he meant to wait for more guards or the police.
The man was not buying it. He pressed the knife farther in. Xiao Zhou gasped in pain, and tears spilled down her face.
Shen Yueji steadied herself. She stepped back half a pace, skirted the edge of the crowd, and slipped into the kitchenette on the right. An oversized stainless-steel vacuum flask stood on the counter. She weighed it in her hand. It would not do much damage, but it would be enough.
The man was shouting at Deputy General Manager Chen, his attention fixed straight ahead. Shen Yueji approached from his blind spot on the right, closed the distance in a single stride, and swung her arm. The base of the flask struck squarely between his right temple and his ear with a dull thud.
The blow knocked him sideways to the left, moving the blade away from Xiao Zhou's throat. Shen Yueji caught his knife hand at the wrist, her thumb pressing precisely against the nerve on its inner edge. At the same time, she pried his fingers off Xiao Zhou's shoulder with her right hand, twisting them down and back. He loosened his grip in pain. The knife clattered to the floor, and Shen Yueji pinned both his arms behind his back and forced him facedown onto a nearby desk, his cheek flattened against the glass top.
“Don't move. Move again, and your arm breaks.” She kicked the back of his knee. Her voice held none of Chen's soothing calm, only restrained anger at his disregard for an ordinary worker's life.
For a moment, everything went silent.
Chen reacted first, and the guards rushed in to take over. Colleagues helped Xiao Zhou aside and pressed a hand over her neck to stop the bleeding. Her shoulders shook as she cried. Still trembling, she got up, went to Shen Yueji, and threw her arms around her. “Thank you, Yueji. I was so scared.”
Shen Yueji raised both hands, at a loss. People rarely nestled into her arms like this. But then, Xiao Zhou had just escaped with her life; it was only natural. She lowered her arms and hugged the frightened young woman back.
Their colleagues stared. Once they recovered, someone actually blurted out, “I ship it!”
Chen's gaze swept over both women. He told his secretary to follow up on the employees involved, then turned away to deal with the aftermath.
Shen Yueji returned the flask to the kitchenette, washed her hands, went back to her desk, and reopened her report.
The colleague beside her leaned over and whispered, “Yueji, have you trained? Taekwondo? Sanda?”
“Mm. But neither of those.” Her hands kept moving over the keyboard.
A colleague who knew her well came over to explain. “Our Yueji's a proper military veteran. She's seen real action. Those flashy taekwondo moves don't compare.”
Curious, admiring looks came from every direction. Shen Yueji began to feel distinctly uncomfortable with the attention and hurriedly urged everyone to finish their work so they could leave on time.
Three days later, in the large conference room on the top floor of Shengshi Group headquarters.
Deputy General Manager Chen sat partway down the long table, his report open to its final page. At the head, Sheng Zeyun leaned back and listened as Chen finished reviewing the subsidiaries' operating figures for the month, turning an uncapped fountain pen between his fingers.
As Chen closed his folder, Sheng Zeyun spoke. “The contractor who entered the office with a weapon. I saw no trace of the incident in our media monitoring.”
Chen's back stiffened slightly. “We dealt with it that same day. The news didn't have time to spread.”
“How?” Sheng Zeyun stopped turning the pen and pointed its nib down toward the table.
“An employee in Finance intervened. She's a veteran. She acted quickly and restrained him before the guards and police arrived. None of the other employees was hurt. The receptionist suffered a minor cut. We've spoken with her and provided reassurance.”
Sheng Zeyun's brow shifted, as though that unexpected detail had caught his interest, but he did not pursue it. Looking down, he screwed the cap back onto the pen. His tone remained flat. “As deputy general manager of the subsidiary, you bear direct responsibility for the security lapse. Fifteen percent off your performance bonus this month. A written self-review on my desk before Friday.”
Chen offered no argument. He nodded.
“One more thing.” Sheng Zeyun stood and clipped the pen into his breast pocket. As he rounded the corner of the table, he turned his head. “Send the security footage from that day to my email.”
“Yes,” Chen said. Only after Sheng Zeyun had left the room did he slowly let out his breath.
One month later, in Sheng Zeyun's office.
While she waited in the corridor to be announced, Shen Yueji looked down at the transfer notice in her hand. In black and white, it stated that she was moving from the subsidiary's Finance department to an administrative position at headquarters. The red seal of Shengshi Group's Human Resources department sat at the bottom. When she had first read it, she had thought little of it. An administrative job—just working in a different building. The number on her payslip would stay the same, so she had signed.
Only when Special Assistant Qiu Qiyun led her into the top-floor office did she realize that something was not quite right.
Sheng Zeyun rose from behind his executive desk, came around to the seating area, and gestured for her to sit. Shen Yueji took an armchair, her back straight from habit and both hands on her knees. He sat opposite her and dispensed with the pleasantries. “The transfer order is a formality. Administration isn't what I need you for.”
Shen Yueji said nothing, waiting for him to continue.
“My wife, Lin Ting, hasn't been well during these two years of marriage. She's often low and doesn't like going out. The bodyguards at home and around her are all men. It's inconvenient for them to stay with her at all times, and they aren't suited to accompanying her shopping or to afternoon tea.” Sheng Zeyun spoke slowly and evenly. “I need a female bodyguard to stay close to her and keep her company when she goes out. I've read your record. Your reflexes and judgment are good enough. I've also heard Chen's account of that day.”
Shen Yueji was quiet for two seconds after he finished. Then she asked, “What's the monthly pay?”
“Twice your current salary.”
“And the five social-insurance contributions and housing fund are paid as usual?”
Standing nearby, Special Assistant Qiu adjusted his glasses. “At the standard for permanent group employees. Full contributions, at the maximum level.”
Shen Yueji nodded. “All right.”
Special Assistant Qiu withdrew, closing the door behind him.