Of Dust and Roses

Chapter 2: The Interview That Wasn't

The silence in the office was absolute, broken only by the whisper of climate-controlled air and the distant drumming of rain against glass. Su Wan stood frozen, her damp clothes suddenly feeling like a second skin of ice. Xi Chengyuan’s question hung in the space between them, not merely words, but a trapdoor waiting to spring open beneath her feet.

“Why I’m… really here?” she echoed, her voice barely a whisper. “For the marketing interview. Sir.” The honorific felt foreign and clumsy on her tongue.

A flicker of something—amusement? impatience?—passed through his dark eyes. He didn’t move from his position by the window, a silhouette against the stormy panorama of the city he commanded. “The marketing interview,” he repeated, his tone flat, devoid of the earlier chilling intensity, which was somehow worse. “Which you were promptly deemed unqualified for by my HR department. And yet… here you are.”

He took a single step forward. Su Wan instinctively took a half-step back, her calves bumping against the sleek leather of a visitor’s chair.

“My security team is very thorough, Miss Su,” he continued, his gaze dropping to the resume he still held. “When an unidentified individual causes a disruption in my lobby and then proceeds to a restricted floor without explicit clearance, I am notified.”

A disruption. Is that all she was? A glitch in his perfect, orderly world? Humiliation burned through her fear. “I didn’t ask to come up here! Your assistant brought me. I was just leaving—”

“Your file is remarkably empty,” he interrupted, as if she hadn’t spoken. He began to pace slowly, a predator circling. “A degree from a university no one of consequence attends. A brief, unsuccessful stint at a startup that no longer exists. No connections. No recommendations of note.” He stopped and looked directly at her. “Tell me, what made you believe you could walk through these doors and compete?”

The question was designed to wound, to put her in her place. And it did. Tears of frustration pricked at her eyes, but she stubbornly blinked them back. Dust didn’t get to cry in rooms like this.

“I believe in my ability to learn,” she said, forcing a strength into her voice she didn’t feel. “I’m not afraid of hard work. I thought… Chengyuan valued merit.”

He almost smiled then, a cold, sharp curve of his lips that held no warmth. “Merit is a luxury afforded to those who already have a foot in the door. You have neither merit nor connections. So I ask you again. Why are you here?”

The frustration finally boiled over. “I told you! I was invited for an interview. I got lost in the rain, I was late, I probably looked a mess. I failed. It happens. It’s not some grand conspiracy!” Her heart was hammering against her ribs. She had just yelled at Xi Chengyuan. She was definitely getting arrested.

He watched her, his head tilted slightly, studying her outburst with clinical interest. The silence stretched again, thick and heavy.

“October 12th,” he said suddenly, his voice dropping back to that deceptively calm, low register. “Four years ago. The Liwan district. A charity gala for the city symphony.”

Su Wan stared at him, utterly bewildered. “What?”

“The date. The place. Does it mean anything to you?”

“I… I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ve never been to a charity gala in my life.” Her confusion was genuine, and he seemed to sense it. His intense scrutiny didn’t waver, but the edge of suspicion seemed to blunt, replaced by a deep, unnerving contemplation.

He moved then, finally rounding his desk and placing her resume on its pristine surface. He stood close now, too close. She could see the precise threads of his custom shirt, the faint shadow of fatigue under his eyes, the unwavering focus in his gaze that made her feel like the most important subject in the world.

“You’re certain,” he stated, it wasn’t a question.

“Yes.”

He reached into a drawer and pulled out not a contract, not a threat, but a small, elegant tablet. He tapped the screen a few times, then turned it to face her.

It was a photograph from a society column. A glittering crowd of men in tuxedos and women in dazzling gowns. And there, in the corner of the frame, partially blurred and out of focus, was a young woman clearing a tray of champagne flutes from a table. She was wearing a black server’s uniform, her hair tied back in a simple ponytail. Her head was turned away from the camera, offering only a glimpse of her profile.

It was her.

Su Wan’s breath caught in her throat. A fragmented memory surfaced—a last-minute temp job through an agency, a frantic night of navigating a crowded ballroom, feeling invisible amidst the glittering opulence. She had completely forgotten.

“That… that was a temporary job,” she stammered, her mind reeling. “I worked for maybe five hours. I needed to pay my rent that month.”

Xi Chengyuan’s eyes were locked on her face, watching every flicker of recognition, every shade of confusion. “I was there,” he said quietly. “You spilled a glass of champagne on me.”

Another memory, sharp and clear: turning too quickly, the sickening sound of shattering glass, the cold splash of liquid soaking into the expensive wool of a man’s suit sleeve. The gasp of the people around them. Her own mortified apology to a man who hadn’t even looked at her, merely flicked the liquid from his wrist with a look of utter disdain before turning away. He had been just another arrogant, wealthy guest. She hadn’t registered his face.

Until now.

Her eyes widened in dawning horror and understanding. “That was you?”

He didn’t answer. He just continued to watch her, his expression now unreadable. The pieces were clicking into place for him, too. The girl who had been a mere inconvenience, a blur of clumsiness four years ago, had somehow reappeared. Not as a server, but as a prospective employee. A coincidence? He, a man who built empires on controlling variables, did not believe in them.

“It was an accident,” she whispered, the word sounding feeble in the expansive room.

“I am a man who believes in patterns, Miss Su, not accidents,” he said, his voice soft but laced with steel. “First, you disrupt a high-profile event. Years later, you disrupt my headquarters. You appear where you do not belong. Twice.”

He picked up her resume again, but this time, he didn’t look at the empty spaces. He looked at her name, as if seeing it for the first time.

“The interview is over,” he announced, his tone final.

Su Wan’s shoulders slumped in a mixture of relief and defeat. It was over. She could escape this gilded cage.

But as she turned to leave, his voice stopped her at the door.

“However,” he said. She turned back. He was seated now behind his mammoth desk, the king returned to his throne. “Report to this office tomorrow morning. Eight o’clock. Sharp.”

She could only stare, completely lost. “For what?”

A new, unsettling light gleamed in his eyes—a mix of cold curiosity and absolute authority.

“For your new job.”