Three days before the all-staff briefing, Chu Yiran was already starting to feel anxious about it.
How anxious was she? She spent half an hour studying her face in the mirror, seriously considering whether to wear a mask to the meeting.
In the end, she dismissed the idea.
At a briefing with thousands of people, wearing a mask alone wouldn’t hide her—it would just put a spotlight on her face.
She also thought about pretending to be sick and taking leave, but having been at the company for less than a week, skipping the all-staff meeting would likely result in Sun Wanqing cutting her employee badge on the spot.
Moreover, Zhao Ling had mentioned that the administrative department would be responsible for part of the meeting arrangements.
As an administrative affairs specialist, there was no way she could escape it.
That left only one last option.
Hide herself in a crowd of thousands—sit in the farthest, most remote, most inconspicuous corner, keep her head down taking notes throughout, and never look up at the stage.
For the three days leading up to the meeting, Chu Yiran prepared more diligently than she had for the college entrance exams.
She found the floor plan of the large auditorium on the second floor and studied the seating arrangement.
The auditorium was designed in a fan-shaped, tiered layout. The first ten rows were reserved seats for department heads, while the back rows were open seating for regular employees.
The seats in the last three rows on the right side were the farthest from the stage, separated by hundreds of people.
On the floor plan, she drew a small circle and labeled it with two words: Safe.
The division of tasks for the meeting arrangements was also finalized in advance.
The administrative department’s responsibilities included registration and guidance, distributing materials, and serving tea.
Chu Yiran proactively swapped tasks with Lin Yuan.
“Are you sure?” Lin Yuan was a bit surprised. “The front section is for senior executives. Serving tea means moving around a lot—it’s not as relaxed as working in the back.”
“I prefer it. Distributing materials in the back means standing in the aisles, which is too conspicuous.”
Lin Yuan didn’t understand her logic, but he didn’t mind and agreed with a nod.
Chu Yiran’s mind was already racing with calculations.
Although serving tea was in the front section, the work involved pre-meeting preparations—setting up teacups and placing hot water kettles. Once the meeting officially began, she could retreat to the backstage and wait.
On the other hand, distributing materials in the back required walking back and forth in the aisles, staying in full view of the crowd the entire time. What if Shen Yu glanced down from the stage and their eyes met?
She didn’t want to gamble on a senior executive’s eyesight and memory.
The day before the meeting, Sun Wanqing confirmed the final task assignments during the morning meeting.
Chu Yiran noticed that Sun Wanqing’s mood had improved slightly over the past two days—at least she hadn’t been assigning extra work to her for no reason.
After the procurement verification email was forwarded to the finance department, no one mentioned it again.
As for the content written on that note, she hadn’t told anyone about it.
The actual controller of Hengyuan Trading was Sun Wanqing’s ex-husband.
She had turned this sentence over and over in her mind, thinking about it many times.
Connecting the clues before and after, those three mismatched procurement records likely involved related-party transactions.
As the deputy director of the administrative department, Sun Wanqing had approval authority in the procurement process. If there was any improper benefit transfer between her and her ex-husband, it would constitute using her position for personal gain.
But Chu Yiran had no intention of probing how deep this matter went.
Her top priority now was only one thing: surviving the briefing.
The day of the briefing.
Chu Yiran woke up at 6:30 a.m., even earlier than her alarm.
She wore the most ordinary dark gray shirt, tied her hair into a low ponytail, and applied a barely noticeable light makeup.
After arriving at the company, she headed straight to the second-floor auditorium.
Several colleagues responsible for the conference affairs were already there, and everyone began setting up the venue separately.
Chu Yiran followed the checklist, arranging teacups one by one for the executive seats in the first three rows of the front section. She placed hot water kettles on the small tables at the side of each row, wiped the tabletops twice, and aligned the coasters as neatly as if measured with a ruler.
While doing these tasks, she quietly observed the layout of the stage.
A long table and three chairs were set up on the stage, with a standing sign bearing the Shen Group logo placed behind the middle chair.
The center seat was clearly reserved for Shen Yu.
The distance from the stage to the last row was about forty meters.
Far enough.
At 8:40, employees began filing into the auditorium.
After finishing all the tea-serving tasks in the front section, Chu Yiran retreated to the backstage passage on the left side of the auditorium.
According to the plan, she only needed to stay on standby here until the meeting ended.
She found a corner to sit down, opened her phone to pretend to check emails, while keeping her ears perked for any sounds from the venue.
The noise grew louder and louder.
At 8:55, a different kind of commotion came from the front passage.
The footsteps were orderly, mixed with low conversations.
Chu Yiran peeked through the gap in the backstage door.
A group of people entered the auditorium through the side door, dressed in sharp suits. Walking at the front was a tall man.
He wore a dark suit, his pace neither hurried nor slow, flanked by two assistants holding folders.
He turned slightly to say something to the person beside him, revealing half of his profile.
Chu Yiran’s breath caught.
She didn’t recognize his face, but she recognized his aura.
It wasn’t some abstract description like “exuding nobility,” but a very specific feeling.
When he walked in, the department heads chatting in the front rows fell almost simultaneously silent.
No one called out to him, no one greeted him, but everyone was watching him.
Shen Yu walked to the front of the stage but didn’t sit down immediately. Instead, he stood there, flipping through the materials on the table.
Chu Yiran withdrew her gaze, shrinking back into the chair in the backstage corner, her heart pounding wildly.
At exactly 9:00, the briefing officially began.
The sounds from the venue, transmitted through the auditorium’s audio system to the backstage, could be heard clearly.
First, a vice president delivered the quarterly operations report, followed by the financial director’s data briefing, interspersed with two departmental performance reviews.
Sitting in the backstage, listening to the voices coming from the speakers, Chu Yiran gradually relaxed.
It seemed her plan was feasible—hide in the backstage, stay out of sight for the entire meeting, and only go out to clean up the teacups after the meeting ended.
Then, an unexpected situation arose: the backstage walkie-talkie suddenly crackled to life.
“Tea service team, the hot water kettle in the second row on the right side of the front section is empty. Bring a refill.”
Chu Yiran looked around. The colleague responsible for backstage supplies had just gone to the restroom, leaving her alone.
She hesitated for three seconds.
The walkie-talkie crackled again.
“Tea service team, please respond if you’ve received the message.”
Chu Yiran pressed the talk button and replied in a low voice, “Received.”
Then, she slowly let out a breath, picked up a spare hot water kettle, and pushed open the side door leading from the backstage to the venue.