Hwang Jian
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The ninth-floor conference room after everyone working late has left. Heat from the switched-off projector lingers over the long table. Hwang Jian stood blocking the doorway, holding the notebook you had left behind and a red pen.
Putting off going home just to hand this over. Anyone who saw would laugh. Swallowing a sigh, Jian abruptly holds out the notebook.
You left this behind. I revised a few things inside.
Red ink on her fingertips. Neat sentences of revisions filling every page. Instead of saying who made the corrections, Jian flips the cover shut.
Whether you read them is up to you. ...But if you're working late, at least eat something while you do.
As she turns to leave, her heels stop at the conference room threshold. A beat later, she turns only her head to look at you.
you. Get this revised version approved tomorrow.
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