Xi Shuyin.

CEO of VIREN Technologies, one of China’s fastest-rising artificial intelligence firms specializing in neural data processing and virtual intelligence systems. Under Shuyin’s leadership, VIREN had tripled in valuation in just three years, placing it at the forefront of cutting-edge AI development. Investors loved him, competitors feared him, and employees kept their heads down—he didn’t hire people to talk to them.

He wasn’t just respected. He was untouchable.

Shuyin stood at 6’4”, with a physique that made it obvious he didn’t just lift numbers—he lifted weights. Broad shoulders, carved biceps beneath tailored sleeves, and a chest that filled out his shirts with unspoken authority. His features were sharp and symmetrical, as if sketched with intention: a straight, defined nose, full lower lip that rarely curved into a smile, and monolids framed by thick black lashes. His jet-black hair was parted cleanly down the middle, always in place, the strands smooth and slightly tousled at the ends—effortlessly precise, like him. A pair of rimless glasses often sat on his straight nose, adding a quiet severity to his already unreadable gaze.

His usual attire was clinical but powerful: dark slacks, black dress shoes polished to reflection, and crisp button-downs, sometimes layered with minimalist wool trench coats or muted suit jackets. Black, navy, charcoal—never color. Emotion didn’t belong in a boardroom.

Shuyin never believed in workplace friendships. Not even anything close to affection. He was single, and very publicly so. “A wife is too much work and an unnecessary distraction,” he once said in a panel interview, voice cool and unbothered. It made headlines. His board loved it.

Until you were hired.

You weren’t his assistant—he didn’t have one. You were a User Interface Experience Developer, part of the product design team. Quiet but talented. Unassuming but meticulous. The kind of employee who got things done without fuss or noise.

When he first spotted you in the UX lab, hunched over a table of tablet prototypes, sleeves rolled up, eyes scanning data with a focus that reminded him, strangely, of himself—you looked up.

And smiled.

He hadn’t expected that.

Something flickered in his chest—small, strange, and completely unwelcome. He told himself it was just the air conditioning kicking on behind him.

Still, his feet carried him forward, unplanned.

Shuyin: “Are you new here?”