Adopting Myself from the Young Heiress - Chapter 26

A faint, discordant buzz hung in the air, further stiffening the already awkward atmosphere.

Whose phone had received a notification? Even a simple vibration sounded jarringly loud in the oppressive silence.

An Chixu gripped her pocket, secretly turning off her phone.

On the previous two occasions when Yan Ciwei had found An Chixu’s workplace and arrived before her, she had even helped An Chixu. Without Yan Ciwei’s presence, Yang Xu would have continued to harass her indefinitely.

The swift resolution of the matter owed much to Yan Ciwei’s few authoritative words.

Even if they didn’t know the nature of Yan Ciwei’s relationship with An Chixu, they wouldn’t dare openly sabotage her with a superior present.

This time, however, Yan Ciwei had preemptively booked the conference room and brought her team to hold a meeting, a blatant act of aggression.

An Chixu felt the weight of ten pairs of eyes pressing down on her from behind, making it hard to breathe.

Apart from Yan Ciwei’s piercing gaze, when had she ever been subjected to such intense scrutiny?

Walking through campus with Yan Ciwei, they might occasionally catch a few glances—and that was considered a lot. Back then, Yan Ciwei had always been there to protect her.

Now, Yan Ciwei stood in opposition to her.

In just one day, she had gone from someone who assigned her tasks to someone who obstructed her.

An Chixu involuntarily lowered her head, genuinely unable to understand Yan Ciwei.

What does she want? To make me yield?

But their relationship had never been about love.

Her bottom line was already set low, yet Yan Ciwei repeatedly crossed it, showing no respect for even that minimal boundary.

How could she possibly lower herself to reconcile with Yan Ciwei?

It was impossible.

An Chixu glanced down at her feet.

Perhaps she hadn’t changed since she was sixteen. She was still that vulnerable child, easily crushed by the casual malice of others.

An Chixu closed her eyes. She didn’t want to experience that dizzying, bl00d-rushing faint again. She was twenty-five now.

She lifted her head. Her legs moved backward before her words could catch up.

“I’m sorry to have bothered you,” An Chixu said, her gaze fixed on Yan Ciwei’s shoulder.

Then she brushed past her.

An Chixu ignored Yan Ciwei’s slightly aggressive gaze, her barely perceptible malice, and her undisguised, cutting remarks.

She disregarded Yan Ciwei’s hatred.

She needed to get her team out of the conference room.

“You’re still at the office?” Yan Ciwei replied, a rare response when An Chixu had expected only a mocking smile.

“It’s seven o’clock,” she said, her meaning clear: it was well past closing time.

An Chixu abruptly withdrew her gaze.

She caught a flicker of disapproval in Yan Ciwei’s eyes.

That faint, gentle glint was so fleeting that An Chixu often dismissed it as her own delusion.

After all, the moment she blinked, Yan Ciwei’s expression reverted to winter’s cold.

A winter that would bring snow. The snow fell on Yan Ciwei’s heart, slowly seeping into her gaze. That momentary slip allowed An Chixu to perceive it.

“We have a project due next week, so we’re working overtime,” An Chixu belatedly remembered. She hadn’t submitted an overtime request.

Theoretically, their company’s closing time was five o’clock. Anyone working later was required to submit a request to claim overtime pay.

Neither Tang Shu nor any of the previous team leaders had ever done this.

It was her oversight. “My apologies. I’ll submit the overtime request to you after this.”

An Chixu lowered her lashes again, this time consciously suppressing her instinctive submissiveness.

“Then wait outside,” Yan Ciwei said, glancing indifferently at the group behind An Chixu before turning back to review the pending issues.

An Chixu finally led her team out of the conference room.

As the door closed, the corridor fell into an even deeper silence.

The ten people An Chixu had brought seemed to merge into a single entity, their stillness broken only by the sound of their breathing.

The sensation of ten people standing behind you, breathing in unison, silent and staring, was unnerving. It sent shivers down your spine, as if they were not living beings but something sinister, plotting against you.

But An Chixu was too accustomed to such scrutiny to feel anything.

She casually turned to meet their identical gazes.

“Wei Huaizhu, Mu Feng, you’ve both worked on similar assignments before. I’m assigning you two to work with me on the task Yang Xu gave us. Is that acceptable?”

An Chixu didn’t want to hold a meeting to discuss the matter any further.

She had likely just been promoted to team leader and wasn’t yet accustomed to the role, still thinking like a regular team member.

As team leader, she should be directly assigning tasks and delegating responsibilities.

How the team members completed their tasks was their responsibility. Her job was to allocate resources, find the optimal solutions, and assess whether the plans submitted by her team members met the required standards.

Among the two she had selected were some who had previously dared to ask her about gossip. As for their abilities, they were indeed the tallest among the short.

The expressions of those who hadn’t been chosen were slightly odd.

“The rest of you will be assigned other tasks to follow up on. He Yuyan, explain the survival reality show project to them in detail. Tomorrow, I’ll only take one person to the meeting there.” An Chixu looked at the remaining eight people and selected six of them.

“As for the two of you… you’ll join their group, and you’ll join Yang Xu’s team. If you encounter any difficulties, don’t hesitate to ask me for help. There’s no need to force yourselves. Shen Jibai’s work can be transferred to you.”

These two team members were new hires. One had just completed her internship, while the other had only been officially employed for two months and wasn’t yet fully familiar with the planning role. An Chixu hadn’t assigned them particularly heavy workloads.

In just a few words, An Chixu had efficiently and thoroughly arranged the team’s tasks for the next month.

“Those working overtime, please sign in later. I’ll submit the list to Little President Yan,” she added, making sure to offer them some compensation.

Even the team members who had been dissatisfied with An Chixu had to swallow their resentment at the prospect of rare overtime pay.

The group quickly forgot about the “mistakenly booked” conference room incident, returning to their workstations to resume work.

An Chixu remained busy until 11:30 PM, the last one to leave the office.

After carefully reviewing the initial draft of the proposal, she sent it to Yang Xu before shutting down her computer.

She exhaled deeply. When she was just a team member, the workload had never been this demanding.

Back then, she would simply write, Tang Shu would take her work, and if the higher-ups rejected it, he’d bring it back for her to revise.

Her sole responsibility had been production. Now, she had to coordinate and manage everything.

An Chixu leaned back in her chair, lost in thought.

As she drifted, her mind wandered to Yan Ciwei.

She managed ten people, while Yan Ciwei oversaw thousands, yet handled it all with effortless grace.

She could never measure up to Yan Ciwei.

She was Yan Ciwei’s personally trained obedient follower, every aspect of her being a clumsy imitation. How could she ever surpass her sister?

An Chixu realized she was dwelling on thoughts she shouldn’t be having and clicked her tongue in annoyance.

Only then did she notice the warm milk at the corner of her desk.

When she first noticed it, the milk was still warm.

But the cup seemed to have been there for a while, lingering in the periphery of her vision without ever fully registering in her mind.

An Chixu picked up the cup of milk from an unknown source, feeling its warmth against her palm.

It was a gentle heat, not enough to make her sweat, nor so cold as to be nauseating.

Just right had always been her style.

Clutching the cup, An Chixu remained silent for several minutes before finally leaving her workstation and officially clocking out for the day.

As soon as she left, the red dot hidden in the shadows finally revealed itself.

With the building plunged into darkness, Yan Ciwei’s crimson mole glowed under the moonlight, flashing like a camera lens.

She blinked, stepping out of the shadows, and the “camera” shut down.

Yan Ciwei silently approached An Chixu’s workstation and picked up her cup.

It was empty.

I thought she wouldn’t drink it.

An Chixu glanced downstairs but didn’t see Yan Ciwei’s car.

Of course. She had unexpectedly worked late tonight. Yan Ciwei must have left long ago.

Feeling no particular disappointment, An Chixu hailed a taxi and finally had a moment to check her earlier messages.

Your bank card ending in … has received a refund of …

An Chixu frowned, thinking hard before realizing what it was.

This was the money she had swiped for dinner tonight—she had accidentally paid for Yan Ciwei’s table as well.

The money was refunded?

She could have claimed the meal as a business expense anyway. Why bother…?

After a moment of hesitation, An Chixu decided to open a new bank account over the weekend.

“Thanks for the ride. I’ll give you a small tip,” An Chixu said casually to the driver as they arrived home.

“No need. I’m used to late shifts, and the platform already charges higher fares,” the driver waved off.

She usually took more late-night fares, but today was strange. A car had been tailgating her for a while. Recognizing it as an expensive model, she drew on all her driving skills to shake it off and ensure her passenger arrived safely.

A small tip wouldn’t hurt. The driver didn’t refuse and soon received a twenty-yuan tip, happily forgetting the earlier ordeal.

Yan Ciwei’s car only pulled up to An Chixu’s apartment building after An Chixu had gone upstairs.

Yan Ciwei leaped out of the driver’s seat, her peach-blossom eyes now dark and sinister, like ink-black storm clouds. The red mole beneath her eye stood out starkly, a venomous thorn.

She tilted her head back, gazing silently at the fifteenth floor.

A light was on.

She remained motionless, like a statue, as if her neck weren’t strained and her muscles weren’t aching.

Half an hour later, the light went out.

Yan Ciwei climbed back into her car and sped off.

She drove straight into a sudden downpour.

Last night’s torrential rain was severe, flooding several tunnels in the city and trapping some cars.

An Chixu woke up early to feed Orange his cat food, grabbed her umbrella, and headed out to pick up He Yuyan from her office.

Today, they were visiting a variety show production team to meet other planning groups and collect program briefs, including objectives and expected outcomes, from the main station.

The task was quite daunting.

The main station was located in the outskirts of S City. An Chixu had only been there once before, during her freshman year of college, when she tried to buy dorm supplies and got lost. Yan Ciwei had to come find her.

That experience left a bad impression on her, and Yan Ciwei, worried about her getting into trouble again, hadn’t taken her there in the six years since.

An Chixu and He Yuyan took a taxi to the vicinity of the main station. Staring at the identical-looking buildings, they felt a bit bewildered.

“Excuse me, is Zhuguang TV in this building?” They had arrived early and spent half an hour circling before finally reaching what seemed like their destination. An Chixu approached a staff member for directions.

“I’m sorry, unauthorized personnel are not allowed here. I need to verify your identities first,” the staff member insisted on seeing their identification.

He Yuyan was about to pull out their employee badges when An Chixu tugged her back. “This is a public area, isn’t it? Is Zhuguang TV claiming private ownership of it?”

“We’re not Zhuguang TV, and our company doesn’t allow people of unknown origin to loiter near the entrance. We’re concerned about reporters and such,” the staff member said, her tone perfectly normal.

Yet An Chixu sensed something off in her demeanor—a flicker of evasiveness. The denial about Zhuguang TV sounded particularly deliberate.

“Apologies, we’re not reporters. We’ll leave immediately,” An Chixu said, but despite her unease, she had no choice but to lead He Yuyan away.

They wandered for a while longer, one security guard claiming Zhuguang TV was in that direction, while a cleaner insisted they had already passed it.

It was then that An Chixu realized the planning team’s competition had begun the moment they stepped into the park. And they couldn’t even find the right building.

With fifteen minutes left until the appointed time, An Chixu, exhausted from walking, stopped with He Yuyan in the park’s center. They stood there, heads tilted back, their eyes blank and lost.

Towering office buildings surrounded them, each constructed of reinforced concrete, their gray, somber hues making them indistinguishable from one another. Staring at them for too long felt like being trapped in a labyrinth with no escape.

An Chixu finally admitted it to herself:

She was lost.

Perhaps she couldn’t complete the task Yan Ciwei had assigned her. Perhaps Yan Ciwei would fire her tomorrow.

Perhaps Yan Ciwei had intended to sabotage her from the start by giving her this impossible project.

And Yan Ciwei, who had once found her when she was lost, would never appear again.