Chu Yiran stood on the sidewalk outside Shen Group’s headquarters, staring at her phone screen for a full ten seconds.
“Miss Chu, I suggest you withdraw the email you sent.”
An unfamiliar number, no signature, no call history—just this abrupt text message appearing out of nowhere.
Chu Yiran’s first reaction wasn’t fear, but a hair-raising sense of alertness.
She had only been on the job for two days.
Whoever knew what email she had sent was either the recipient, Sun Wanqing herself, or someone with administrative access to the email system in the department.
But regardless of who it was, the fact that they used an anonymous text to advise her to withdraw the email spoke volumes.
Those three mismatched purchase records weren’t ordinary clerical errors.
Someone had tampered with them.
Chu Yiran took a screenshot of the text and saved it to an encrypted folder in her phone’s gallery, then exited the messaging app.
She didn’t reply, nor did she withdraw the email.
At a time like this, any reaction could expose her position. It was better to stay still and observe.
After returning to her apartment, Chu Yiran didn’t rush to wash up. Instead, she sat at her desk and mentally reviewed all the information she had observed over the past two days.
Chu Yiran listed these key points one by one in her notes, studying them for a long time.
She wasn’t a detective, nor was she interested in playing the hero.
Her purpose for joining Shen Group was simple: to earn money, pay off her debts, and save her own life.
But the problem now was that what she had discovered wasn’t something she could simply ignore, even if she wanted to.
The email had been sent, and the anonymous text had been received.
Even if she pretended not to have seen anything now, the other party had already noticed her.
A newcomer who discovered abnormal data on her second day—in the eyes of some, that wasn’t diligence; it was a threat.
Chu Yiran rubbed her temples and began thinking of a counterstrategy.
She couldn’t actively probe those purchase records anymore. She had already reported what needed to be reported. How to handle it next was up to Sun Wanqing and higher-ups—she wouldn’t overstep.
That unfamiliar number needed to be investigated, but she couldn’t do it herself, at least not through any channels she currently had access to.
She needed to act normal—do her work, put in overtime when necessary, and avoid bringing up any topics related to abnormal data.
You play your games; I’ll earn my paycheck.
She locked her notes and shut down her computer.
After taking a shower, she sat on the edge of her bed with damp hair and opened her phone.
In S’s chat window, the messages were still set to “Do Not Disturb.”
She hesitated for a moment, then tapped to take a look.
Two unread messages, both sent today.
“Send me the hospitalization notice.”
“Which hospital are you in?”
She stared at them for a long time before finally closing the chat window.
She didn’t reply.
She couldn’t reply. Doing so would expose her excuse of being unreachable due to hospitalization.
She could only continue to stall.
But the effectiveness of stalling wouldn’t last much longer.
On her third day of work, Chu Yiran arrived half an hour earlier than the required time.
By eight o’clock, when she sat down at her workstation, she was the only person in the entire administrative department.
She used this half-hour of quiet time to organize her tasks for the day in advance—suppliers to contact, processes to follow up on, documents to sort—all listed in order of priority.
By eight-thirty, her colleagues began arriving one by one.
As Lin Yuan passed by her workstation, he placed a cup of coffee on the corner of her desk.
“Are you going to the venue site inspection for this afternoon’s summit?”
“Has President Sun arranged it?”
“Not yet, but in previous years, the practice has been for the administrative specialist to go along to handle coordination.”
Chu Yiran was about to answer when her phone vibrated in her pocket.
She looked down and saw an internal company email.
The sender was Sun Wanqing.
The body of the email contained only one line: “No need to follow up on today’s procurement audit report. It has been transferred to the finance department for processing.”
Chu Yiran read the sentence twice.
“It has been transferred to the finance department for processing.”
This meant that the three anomalies she had indeed uncovered issues with, but the matter had now been taken out of the administrative department’s hands.
Was this a normal procedural escalation, or a deliberate move to remove her from the matter?
She didn’t know.
But either way, it meant she was at least temporarily safe.
That anonymous text message sank like a stone to the bottom of the water, and no second one ever came.
The morning passed peacefully.
Chu Yiran handled a pile of miscellaneous tasks, organized three meeting minutes, replied to over a dozen internal emails, and even made two trips to the human resources department on the thirty-seventh floor to submit supplementary materials for new hires.
During lunch, she went to the cafeteria and ordered the cheapest set meal.
Eighteen yuan—one meat dish, two vegetable dishes, and a soup.
For someone who needed to save money and repay fourteen million, every yuan had to be stretched as far as possible.
She was eating with her head down when someone suddenly sat down opposite her.
Looking up, she saw Zhao Ling.
Zhao Ling from the human resources department placed her own tray on the table and smiled, saying, “What a coincidence, you’re eating at this time too.”
“Yes, Supervisor Zhao.”
“Just call me Sister Zhao, no need to be so formal.”
Zhao Ling poked at the vegetables on her plate. “How are you adjusting?”
Chu Yiran thought for a moment and answered honestly, “The workload isn’t light, but I can keep up.”
“Has President Sun been giving you too much trouble?” Zhao Ling’s tone carried a hint of probing.
Chu Yiran smiled but didn’t take the bait.
Zhao Ling didn’t press further and instead chatted about other things—the administrative department’s schedule, the year-end evaluation process, when the company’s anniversary celebration was usually held.
After chatting for about ten minutes, Zhao Ling suddenly lowered her voice and said, “By the way, a heads-up.”
“Next week, the company has an internal briefing meeting, and the president will be attending.”
“All departments are required to be there that day, including the administrative department.”
Chu Yiran’s chopsticks paused.
“The president will attend?”
“Yes, the quarterly all-staff briefing, with President Shen personally speaking.”
“It’ll be held in the large auditorium on the second floor. The administrative department will be responsible for part of the event coordination.”
After saying this, Zhao Ling glanced at her, perhaps noticing her slightly stiff expression, and added, “There’s nothing to be nervous about. It’s just sitting there listening for half an hour.”
Chu Yiran smiled and said okay, then lowered her head to finish the rest of her meal.
On her way out of the cafeteria, she quickly ran through the details in her mind.
An all-staff briefing meeting, the large auditorium on the second floor, Shen Yu personally attending.
This meant she would not only see Shen Yu up close but also in a public setting where she couldn’t avoid it.
Just one face in the crowd—Shen Yu might not even notice her.
But what if?
What if Shen Yu had an absurdly good memory?
What if he had already found a photo of the original owner through some channel?
What if he was the type of person who could lock onto a target with just a glance at the crowd?
Chu Yiran’s steps quickened as she walked.
She had to figure out before next week how to hide herself deeply enough during that briefing.
Returning to her desk and sitting down, she opened the drawer to retrieve some documents and noticed a note tucked at the very back.
She pulled out the note. On it was only a single line of handwritten text.
The handwriting was messy, as if written in a hurry.
“The actual controller of Hengyuan Trading is Sun Wanqing’s ex-husband.”
Chu Yiran’s fingers holding the note slowly tightened.
Hengyuan Trading—that was the company where the invoice issuer and the payment recipient didn’t match.
Her gaze shifted from the note, sweeping across the office area.
Everyone was working with their heads down. No one was looking at her.
She folded the note twice and tucked it into the deepest pocket of her shirt.
Sweat from her palm seeped into the edges of the paper.