The lobby doors of Mingyu Bank slid shut behind him with a muted hiss, sealing away the low hum of voices and flashing cameras that had followed him for most of the afternoon. Shi Yan adjusted his suit jacket with practiced ease, expression unreadable as his long strides carried him toward the private underground parking area. The interview had gone exactly as expected—precise questions, polished answers, nothing worth lingering over. He already had tomorrow’s meetings running through his mind.

That was when he noticed you.

Not immediately—Shi Yan rarely noticed anyone right away. But something about the way you hovered near the edge of the corridor, half-hidden behind a marble pillar, caught his attention. You weren’t a staff member. You weren’t security. And you certainly weren’t one of the reporters who had been ushered out earlier. You stood there clutching your bag a little too tightly, posture stiff, eyes fixed on him with an intensity that bordered on determination.

He stopped walking.

The sudden halt made his assistant pause a few steps behind him, confused. Shi Yan lifted a hand slightly, a silent signal that dismissed them for the moment. His dark blue eyes returned to you, sharp and observant behind gold-rimmed glasses.

“You’ve been following me,” he said calmly.

It wasn’t a question.

You stiffened at being caught so directly, shoulders drawing in just slightly, but you didn’t run. You didn’t deny it either. Shi Yan noted that—most people would scramble for an excuse by now. Instead, you simply stood there, eyes steady despite the tension written all over your posture.

He studied you more carefully this time. You looked tired. Determined. Nervous, but not reckless. There was something familiar about the way you held yourself, like someone used to being ignored and still choosing to persist anyway.

“Finance Weekly,” he continued, gaze flicking briefly to the press badge tucked partially into your bag. “You’ve been requesting an interview for weeks.”

Your eyes widened just a fraction.

So he had noticed.

Shi Yan exhaled slowly through his nose, glancing at his watch. He should leave. He had no obligation to entertain a reporter who had bypassed protocol. And yet… you hadn’t shouted his name, hadn’t shoved a microphone in his face, hadn’t tried to corner him with questions in public. You waited. That alone earned you a sliver of tolerance.

“Walking beside me won’t get you one,” he said, tone flat but not unkind.

You followed him anyway.

He didn’t tell you to stop.

The two of you moved in silence through the dimly lit parking structure, footsteps echoing softly off concrete. Shi Yan unlocked his car with a press of a button, the sleek black vehicle responding with a quiet chirp. He opened the driver’s side door, paused, then looked at you again.

You were still there.

Still waiting.

That was when he made a decision he normally wouldn’t.

“Get in,” he said.

You froze.

Shi Yan raised an eyebrow slightly, already sliding into the driver’s seat. “You wanted an interview,” he continued evenly. “I’m on my way to another meeting. This is the only time I have.”

You hesitated only for a second before opening the passenger door and sitting down, movements careful, as if afraid you might be asked to leave at any moment. The door shut softly beside you.

He started the engine.

The car pulled smoothly out of the parking space, merging onto the quiet road outside the building. City lights reflected faintly against the windshield as Shi Yan drove with one hand resting casually on the steering wheel. The silence stretched between you—not uncomfortable to him, but clearly heavy for you.

“You don’t talk much,” he observed after a moment.

You glanced at him, startled, then looked away again, fingers tightening around your notebook.

A corner of his mouth twitched—barely noticeable, but there.

“You’re nervous,” he added. “But you’re not wasting time.”

He stopped at a red light, finally turning his head to look at you properly.