A new day had begun.
Dawn slowly crept over the horizon, its fragile golden light spreading like a silken veil across the world. Sunlight filtered gently through the cracks of the window, casting its glow on the cream-colored curtains and falling upon the face of a young woman still lost in slumber.
The room was wrapped in stillness, soft and calm. A breeze drifted in, stirring the curtain ever so slightly—like a quiet hand brushing dreams from her eyes, gently urging the night to fade.
Bạch Lan slowly opened her eyes.
Her long lashes quivered, as though still clinging to the dream she had just left behind. She raised one hand to shield her face, welcoming the morning light with a delicate motion.
The warmth of it touched her skin, gently pushing back the lingering chill within her chest.
But even so—the shadow in her heart had not yet lifted.
That dream—again.
Over and over, without end.
She took a deep breath, telling herself to shake off the lingering haze.
Today was important.
"First day of work… Yeah! You've got this!"
She cheered herself on with a small smile, gazing into the mirror.
Her smile was bright, yet her eyes still carried a faint, quiet tremble—like a ripple that hadn't yet settled.
The clock read just before eight.
She quickly slipped into a crisp white blouse, paired it with simple flats, and tied her long hair into a neat ponytail.
Even on her first day at work, Bạch Lan chose simplicity—an effortless grace that carried a clear and unadorned charm.
But the moment she stood before the towering building, she was struck by a wave of awe.
Trạch Vu Tower shimmered under the morning sun, its glass walls reflecting the endless blue sky, making it look like a fortress of modernity—cold, sleek, and untouchable.
People bustled past her in every direction, dressed in sharp suits and polished shoes, each one moving with a kind of urgency—as if heading into battle.
Bạch Lan swallowed hard. A wave of nausea crept up from somewhere deep inside her.
"It's okay… I can do this..."
She told herself silently, taking slow, steady steps into the lobby.
But just as the elevator doors opened, a crowd immediately surged forward, pushing past one another to squeeze inside.
By the time she reached the front, the doors had already shut.
"Wait—please, wait for me!"
She called out in panic, but no one even turned around.
She stood there, breath shallow, eyes blank as she stared at the closed metal doors—
as if they had just slammed shut on the fragile thread of confidence she'd managed to gather.
The air around her felt cold.
Everyone seemed like strangers—busy, polished, and worlds apart.
"Ding."
Another elevator opened.
Relieved, Bạch Lan stepped in. This time, she was the first.
But not even three seconds later, a polished black leather shoe stopped the door.
A tall man entered—his presence cold, commanding.
He stepped inside without a word. His face was sharp, composed; his gaze flat and still, like the surface of a frozen lake—chilling, distant, and dangerous.
Bạch Lan tilted her head slightly, offering a polite smile.
But the smile died instantly as his eyes swept past her—as if she were invisible.
No nod. No greeting. Not even a glance of acknowledgment.
He stood motionless, eyes fixed forward, as if the world around him simply did not exist.
The small elevator space grew suffocating.
Bạch Lan quietly shifted to one corner, her heart pounding like a drum.
Whatever confidence she'd managed to gather… vanished like foam on the tide.
Third floor... sixth... eighth...
"Ding."
The man stepped out, his gait calm and deliberate.
Bạch Lan remained frozen in place—she had completely forgotten to press her floor.
"Oh no... seriously, how clumsy can I be..."
She muttered under her breath, sighing as she quickly jabbed the button.
Just then, her foot brushed against something that had rolled to the corner of the elevator.
She looked down—a fountain pen.
Its body was matte black metal, etched with delicate silver patterns that shimmered with a cold elegance. It didn't look like something one would carry casually. It belonged to someone precise, someone... distant.
She picked it up, turning it gently in her hand.
A strange chill spread through her fingers.
It must belong to the man who just left... she thought.
But even as she stared at the pen, it wasn't his face that filled her mind.
It was... someone else. A figure in the mist. Eyes from her dream.
And then, like a whisper from a forgotten place—
a name surfaced from deep within:
Trạch Đông.
"Trạch Đông…" she murmured unconsciously.
The name echoed in her mind like a voice from some distant past.
Suddenly, her heart skipped a beat—sharp and unexplainable.
As if the name had brushed against a sealed place inside her, awakening something long forgotten.
She stared at the pen in her hand. The cool metal pressed against her palm, its carved patterns glinting faintly in the light.
It felt too familiar. Too precise. As if it had always belonged to a memory she couldn't reach.
A strange shiver ran down her spine.
Snapping out of her daze, she rushed out of the elevator and called out:
"Excuse me! Your pen—wait!"
The man was already some distance away. He turned slightly, cast her a glance, then with a lazy wave of his hand said:
"Bring it to Room 808."
That was it. No thank-you. No expression of surprise or concern.
Just a flat, detached order—as if her act of kindness was part of some silent obligation.
She stood still, blinking.
"Is a little gratitude really that hard…?" she muttered under her breath.
But when she glanced at her watch, her face turned pale.
"Oh no—I'm late!"
A storm of conflicting emotions surged inside her—frustration, confusion, and yet a strange reluctance to leave the pen behind.
After a long sigh, she gave in and slipped it into her bag.
By the time she reached the third floor, the department manager was already waiting.
A middle-aged woman with sharp eyes and arms crossed, standing like a teacher catching a student sneaking in late.
"I'm sorry… I'm late…" Bạch Lan bowed, panting slightly.
The manager smiled—a polite yet icy smile.
"It's fine."
Just as Bạch Lan was about to breathe a sigh of relief, the manager added flatly:
"But being late means a pay deduction. Company policy."
Her words landed with the practiced precision of someone used to extinguishing other people's hopes.
Bạch Lan froze. A cold drop of disappointment fell silently inside her.
"Ugh… what a disastrous start…" she muttered inwardly.
She quietly made her way to her desk.
It was tucked away in a small corner beside a file cabinet.
No one greeted her.
Everyone had their eyes glued to their screens, typing away in mechanical silence.
She had once been a top student—valedictorian of her marketing class.
But without the right connections, she had no choice but to start as a data entry clerk.
A dull, monotonous job.
Still, she believed that with hard work, she would one day reach her dream.
"You have to start small to climb high," she reminded herself, trying to stay hopeful.
But for the rest of the morning, she couldn't shake the name Trạch Đông from her mind.
It lingered like a song stuck on repeat—subtle, persistent, unsettling.
There was something in that name, in the look in his eyes, that felt unfamiliar… yet oddly familiar.
And it made concentration nearly impossible.
***
Suddenly, a vague memory stirred in her mind…
"Bạch Nhi, what are you doing?"
A deep, warm voice.
A tall figure, hair tousled by the wind.
The girl in the memory wore a flowing white dress, tilting her head with a gentle smile.
"I'm practicing cultivation. Didn't you already leave with Master?"
"I came back... because of you."
He chuckled softly, reaching out to pinch her nose.
***
The chime signaling the end of the workday snapped her back to reality.
Sunlight from the setting sun spilled through the tall windows, washing her desk in a soft golden hue tinged with melancholy.
She sat still, eyes distant, lost somewhere beyond the horizon.
"Who is he... and why does my heart ache every time I see him in my dreams?"
There was no answer—only a quiet emptiness, like a name on the tip of the tongue, or a memory waiting to awaken.
"It can't be a crush... I've only met him once."
She let out a quiet laugh, half in denial, half in longing.
But her heart pulsed with something else something deeper.
Her gaze lingered on the fading skyline, where the sun dipped behind the towering buildings, painting the sky in muted shades of orange and blue.
She remained seated, unmoving, as if chasing something far beyond the horizon.
In her heart, something was calling out a name only she could hear.
She couldn't recall his face, nor could she speak his name.
All she knew was that every time she closed her eyes...
She felt like she had once loved him, so deeply, it still ached.