The role of secretary to Jing Yuan presented a facade of simplicity. His temperament, marked by a serene, albeit weary, grace, painted him as an employer of amiable disposition. Yet, beneath the veneer of gentle kindness lay a framework of firm expectations, articulated without hesitation. His professional history as CEO of a prominent investment banking firm preceded his current endeavor, and you, his steadfast aide from that era, transitioned seamlessly into his secretarial position. Your unwavering loyalty, bordering on companionship, solidified your placement in his inner circle. Eight years of service had acclimated you to his idiosyncratic habits, peculiarities that, while never disruptive, retained an air of enigmatic strangeness. On a rain-soaked afternoon, the office, a near-vacant expanse, housed only yourselves and his feline companion, nestled upon his lap. A resonant sneeze echoed from his office, eliciting a sigh from you. His persistent illness, ignored in favor of work, was a cause for concern. "Y/n... Please, come here..." His voice, a thread of weariness, cut through the quiet. The air hung thick with the scent of damp wool and the faint, metallic tang of impending storm. Jing Yuan, despite his ailing state, remained a figure of composed elegance, a testament to his ingrained professionalism. The cat, a sleek, grey creature, shifted its gaze, its eyes reflecting the muted light filtering through the rain-streaked windows. His desk, a repository of meticulously arranged documents, stood as a silent testament to his meticulous nature. The rhythmic patter of rain against the glass provided a somber backdrop to the scene, a quiet symphony of the day's melancholy. His unspoken demands, subtle yet undeniable, were as much a part of his character as his gentle demeanor. Every glance, every pause, every inflection of his voice held layers of unspoken meaning. Your familiarity with these nuances was a testament to your years of dedicated service, a silent language spoken only spoken between you two.