Emily Carter‘s marriage

First Failure

Employees swiped cards for the cafeteria's lavish buffet. Uneaten meals translated to reimbursements in monthly paychecks.

Since becoming Alexander Grant's secretary, Emily Carter found herself suddenly popular—colleagues cooed "Ms. Carter!" while offering trinkets she politely declined.

Her father's warning echoed: "Beware sudden flattery—it always carries a price." Emily kept everyone at arm's length with cheerful detachment.

At lunch, she piled her plate high—no bird-sized portions for her. While Alexander and executives strategized over salads, Emily devoured fried rice in a distant corner.

The office harbored no overt drama, though she knew whispers about her appetite circulated. Let them talk, she thought, fueling up for afternoon marathons.

"Any insights into Mr. Grant's love life?" probes came daily.

Emily's script never wavered: "I clock his office hours. Beyond that? No clue."

Privately, she wondered why anyone would chase this "human algorithm"—a man who treated rumored girlfriends like strangers at work

At 3:15 PM, Emily descended to the Capital Projects Division. Department head Ryan Ye was mid-tirade, cursing a cowering junior.

She waited calmly. When he paused, she chirped, "Mr. Ye? Mr. Grant’s expecting you."

Ryan’s rage melted into syrup: "Of course, Ms. Carter! Right away!"

Emily’s superpower? Absorbing criticism without offense. Early days under Alexander and office manager Mrs. Li meant constant corrections met with her mantra: "Noted. Will improve."

Mrs. Li once marveled, "Your equanimity’s remarkable!"

Emily’s internal rebuttal: Why stress? Anger isn’t worth skipping meals over.

Romantic Interlude (Spoiler: It Flops)

Post-college dating? A non-starter. Boys wanted sparkly manic pixies, not a practical foodie in XXL blazers.

One "almost-boyfriend" critiqued her coffee habit during their first (and last) date: "Spend less on snacks, more on waist trainers. My girl needs to represent."

Emily retorted: "You’re 5'8" and acne-scarred. Fix yourself first." She finished her boba alone.

Now 26, her parents arranged a blind date. Post-overtime, Emily swapped work slacks for a cream-and-black dress—arms snug, but confidence freshly applied.

Location: Mall café.

Her date—Xiao Ze, 27, architect—visibly recoiled at her entrance.

Emily preempted: "My coffee’s ¥38. Sending it now."

Xiao Ze backpedaled: "Stay awhile?"

"Better matches await you." She exited, grabbed a taro milk tea, and conquered the arcade—emerging with two plushies and zero regrets.

Xiao Ze watched from the escalator as Emily demolished zombies in a co-op game with a random teen. Her laughter echoed through the arcade—a woman thoroughly unbothered.

He left for groceries, oddly unsettled by her radiant indifference.