Unable to Fall in Love Syndrome - Chapter 6

Chapter 6 – Tricky Client 06

Qiao Shan hadn’t actually washed her face or hands—she couldn’t exactly blurt out an explanation for that now.

Back in the dining room, Zuo Yi had already dropped a subtle hint for her to get lost, but she wasn’t about to pass up this golden opportunity to scope out his place more thoroughly.

In her line of work, thin skin was a long-lost relic.

Her initial assessment pegged Zuo Yi as 70% gay—deviating from the norm in that department. To nail down a solid 100%, she’d need to keep observing.

Mission accomplished, Qiao Shan didn’t linger. She headed to the property management office to grab her spare key, let herself into her apartment, and found Dudu sprawled limply at the door, ears drooping, a living embodiment of “starved like a dog.”

After stuffing Dudu with food, Qiao Shan got to tweaking the custom plan she’d cooked up for Zuo Yi.

Based on how much he loathed her right now, scrounging up another excuse to barge into his place seemed like a pipe dream. Putting herself in his shoes: if some creepy burly dude neighbor pulled a drunken meltdown in her home, she’d ghost him forever.

While scrolling Weibo, Qiao Shan spotted a job posting from “Tongtong Loves Pear“—a prime chance to get up close and personal with Zuo Yi. She couldn’t let it slip!

She whipped up a resume tailored to tickle their fancy—faking her background and credentials across the board—and fired it off. They got back to her quickly, calling to schedule an interview.

Talk about perfect timing: the interviewer turned out to be Tongtong Loves Pear herself.

She and Tong Xiaoli had already leveled up to besties online, chatting about damn near everything. Seeing each other in person cranked the vibe to max— they squealed and pulled each other into a tight hug.

Qiao Shan matched Tong Xiaoli’s mental image pretty spot-on: short, with a palm-sized face, chubby cheeks full of that fresh-faced collagen glow.

Tong Xiaoli, on the other hand, was taller than Qiao Shan had pictured, with a solid figure and the classic urban career-woman getup. In the flesh, she had way more poise than her over-filtered selfies suggested.

That afternoon, Qiao Shan breezed through the interview. Tong Xiaoli, buzzing with excitement, gave her the grand tour of the office.

Yi Yun’s building sat on Jin Yang’s Inner Ring Road—twelve floors total, complete with a dedicated reading room, cafeteria, and gym. Perks for employees were decent overall, but the exec assistant spot in the president’s office turned over like clockwork. Rumor had it the last one bailed after getting reamed out by the GM during a big company meeting—bawled her eyes out and quit the next day…

Tong Xiaoli dragged Qiao Shan to the cafeteria, loading up a tray with two meats and a veggie for her. They grabbed a table and dug in, chatting between bites.

Qiao Shan sighed. “So I sailed through that interview not because of you, but because you guys are that desperate for an assistant?”

Tong Xiaoli nibbled her chopsticks. “Pretty much. I’m just an assistant myself—no big power moves here. But heads-up: tread carefully on the job. The GM’s got a short fuse and zero filter on his mouth. Brace yourself mentally. That said, the president’s office perks are solid otherwise—the GM’s always taking us on company trips.”

Qiao Shan tapped into her gossip mode. “A GM that hot, and no girls in the office crushing on him?”

Tong Xiaoli said: “Ha, who’d dare? But real talk—with that temper? What girl would actually go for him? Sure, the sassy CEO trope slays in novels, but a guy like that? Fun to fantasize about, not boyfriend material. Us girls in the real world? We stick to sweet guys.”

She shoveled down a few bites, then looked up at Tong Xiaoli again. “So, you think the GM’s gay?”

“Pfft…” Tong Xiaoli nearly choked on her rice. Her eyes bugged out wide, locked on something behind Qiao Shan. Under the table, she stealthily kicked her.

“Why’d you kick me?” Qiao Shan, seeing the spit-take, grabbed a napkin and shoved it at her. “Don’t laugh—answer me.”

Tong Xiaoli kicked her twice more, eyes still glued to Qiao Shan’s back. …Was she laughing? This was straight-up terror-face!

Qiao Shan clocked the off vibe quickly—something heavy loomed behind her, like a massive shadow swallowing the light, the air pressure tanking hard.

No way it’s this cliché—the man himself’s right behind me? she wondered.

Tong Xiaoli slapped a hand over her forehead, averting her gaze… God, she wanted to pretend they weren’t even acquainted.

“Miss Cheng, my orientation’s perfectly straight. Anything else you’d like to know?” The man’s voice sliced in from behind her, icy as a blade.

Qiao Shan clapped a hand to her forehead, too mortified to turn around and face Zuo Yi. She cupped her face with both hands, voice muffled: “No need, Mr. Zuo—got it…” She was dying of cringe, couldn’t even peek back at him—her brain had already conjured his death-glare in HD.

He already couldn’t stand her; after this fiasco, had his disgust hit DEFCON 1?

Silence stretched from behind.

Finally, Tong Xiaoli nudged her arm. “He’s gone. You two know each other?”

Qiao Shan dropped her hands, exhaling like she’d run a marathon. “Does your GM hold grudges on the clock?”

“The GM has always kept work and personal separate,” Tong Xiaoli said, pausing. Qiao Shan let out a relieved breath—okay, so the guy’s got some principles.

Then Tong Xiaoli added, “But badmouthing your boss on company turf? That’s work stuff…” She patted Qiao Shan’s shoulder. “Just be extra diligent starting tomorrow—no slip-ups.”

*

That evening, heading home after work, Qiao Shan ran into Zuo Yi in the elevator. Her eyes stuck to his back like glue, nerves jangling; she edged into the corner on instinct.

At the 12th floor, the doors slid open. Seeing Zuo Yi standing but not budging, she ducked her head and shuffled out in tiny steps. No sooner had her front foot crossed the threshold than someone snagged her collar from behind, yanking her back into the elevator.

She was petite, not much muscle to her— the tug from the guy behind sent her tumbling straight into his solid chest.

But he shoved her off just as fast, and she staggered to the elevator’s corner to catch her balance.

The doors sealed shut.

Qiao Shan huddled against the wall; Zuo Yi braced a hand on the panel, looming over her. His dark eyes were frosted over, the cramped space turning frigid with waves of chill.

Zuo Yi leaned in a fraction, his chiseled jaw nearly brushing her forehead.

Qiao Shan squirmed, twisting her head away, face heating up. “Z-Zuo… President Zuo, at this range, you planning to kiss me or what?”

A glacial edge sharpened his gaze, his tone laced with mocking bite: “A peck from a gay guy? Wouldn’t be much of a loss, right? What do you think?”

“…” Qiao Shan ducked her head, slapping hands over her face to shield her smooth forehead, nose, and mouth. Muffled through her palms: “I’m too short—awkward angle. Don’t strain your back, old man.”

This was pure payback!

What grated a straight guy most? Some chick blabbing everywhere that he was gay.

Zuo Yi was no exception. He snatched her wrist, tilting her chin up to bore into her eyes, fury brewing in his depths. “Miss Cheng, if I catch wind of that crap in the office again, don’t expect any neighborly courtesy from me.”

Right then, the elevator lurched with a gut-wrenching clang—plummeting from the 17th to the 13th.

The violent jolt had Qiao Shan lunging for Zuo Yi’s slim waist, clinging to him as cold sweat broke out all over.

“Let go.” His voice was a raw snarl, fury barely leashed.

“Oh…” Qiao Shan peeled off obediently, retreating to her corner. She eyed the flickering main light. “Great, elevator’s busted—all your fault. Couldn’t pull your little revenge flirt outside? Had to do it in here? Perfect—now we’ve got the full soap-opera drop.”

Qiao Shan kept up her nonstop babble. Zuo Yi jabbed the alarm button, then shot her an irritated glare. “Shut it.”

She shrugged, hunching smaller. “All bark, no follow-through… what a jerk move.”

A vein throbbed at Zuo Yi’s temple. He forced his tone even: “What was that?”

“All bark, no follow-through—what a jerk move!” Qiao Shan’s hackles rose too; she puffed up her chest, locking eyes with him. “I can care about whoever, talk about whoever, discuss whoever— that’s my damn right. Why should you get to shut me down? Why?”

Zuo Yi’s stare turned arctic. Qiao Shan bristled under it, planting hands on hips: “What’re you glaring at? Pissed? If you’re so mad, kiss me then!”

Deep down, she was dead sure he was gay.

Most gay guys had zero interest in locking lips with women—but if he were straight, her taunt would light a fire under 80% of guys to prove her wrong. If he actually went for it, Qiao Shan would be thrilled—boom, indirect proof of his straightness.

Zuo Yi had never crossed paths with a girl like this; it left him chest-tight with rage. His half-baked tease-for-payback plan had backfired, stoking his temper instead.

Heat rushed to his head; his hand moved on autopilot, gripping her chin as he swooped down and kissed her…

“…” Qiao Shan’s eyes flew wide, total brain-melt.

Zuo Yi pulled back, a smug “hmph” rumbling from his throat. He arched a brow, eyeing her with defiant challenge.

Like he was saying—Dared me to? There. Your move?

In the elevator control room.

Ying Shengnan was splitting a tub of instant noodles with the security uncle. He glanced up at the monitor feed and—stunned—bit clean through his chopsticks mid-slurp, dumping half-chewed noodles back into the bowl.

The uncle shot him a disgusted side-eye, hugging the noodle tub closer with a mutter: “Kid, focus on eating when you’re eating. Don’t stare at that X-rated stuff.”

Ying Shengnan swallowed his mouthful, gaze glued to the screen as he marveled: “That little matchmaker’s got some serious game when it comes to reeling in a guy.”