Intimate Trial Chapter 10

Three days later, Shen Silin returned to the company on time. The dust of Madrid seemed to have been washed away; she was wearing a neatly pressed light gray suit skirt, her long hair meticulously tied up, her face bearing the faint glow of sufficient rest, and her eyes calm and focused. In her hand, she held the finalized business trip report and follow-up documents requiring Ye Chang’s signature.

She walked to the CEO’s Office door, raised her hand, and knocked three times on the polished mahogany with a crisp sound.

“Come in.”

The voice that answered, however, was not Ye Chang’s signature clear and steady tone, but an unfamiliar female voice, slightly childish yet exceptionally calm.

Shen Silin paused briefly, then pushed the door open with her usual composure.

The office was brightly lit, with the familiar city skyline visible outside the massive floor-to-ceiling windows. However, Ye Chang’s large, heavy desk was empty. Shen Silin’s gaze shifted to the reception area, landing beside the sofa.

A girl was sitting there.

The girl looked about fifteen or sixteen years old, dressed in a clean, neat light blue dress, with a soft, thin blanket covering her knees. Her face was delicate and pale, and her eyes were large, dark, and tranquil, currently fixed quietly on Shen Silin. Most notably, she was seated in a lightweight wheelchair.

The girl seemed unsurprised by Shen Silin’s appearance and showed none of the awkwardness or curiosity typical of children facing unfamiliar adults. Her gaze rested on Shen Silin’s face for a moment, then calmly shifted toward the direction of the office restroom.

“Auntie is in the restroom,” the girl said. Her voice was the same one heard from outside the door, clear in articulation, offering no explanation or greeting, merely stating a fact.

Shen Silin quickly adjusted her expression and nodded politely to the girl: “Understood, thank you.” She did not approach or inquire rashly. Instead, holding the documents, she quietly walked to a position slightly away from the desk and stood there, her posture respectful and professional. Her gaze was slightly lowered, and she did not continue to scrutinize the girl, but the corner of her eye had taken in the entire scene.

A girl in a wheelchair, calling Ye Chang “Auntie,” had appeared in Ye Chang’s office. This was a significant piece of information, completely outside the scope of Shen Silin’s previous understanding of Ye Chang’s almost vacuum-sealed private life. The girl possessed a maturity and detachment beyond her years, bearing a slight resemblance to Ye Chang.

The faint sound of running water came from the restroom and quickly stopped. The door opened, and Ye Chang walked out.

Today she was wearing a slightly casual off-white cashmere sweater and matching trousers, her hair loosely tied up, and her face bare of makeup. She carried a hint of domestic ease in her demeanor, but her eyes remained sharp and clear. Seeing Shen Silin, she showed no surprise.

“You’re back?” Ye Chang asked, wiping her hands with a tissue as she walked toward the desk.

“Yes, Ms. Ye. Here are the business trip report and the follow-up documents requiring your review.” Shen Silin handed over the files, her gaze inadvertently sweeping past the girl by the sofa. The girl had lowered her head, fiddling with a thin, new model tablet computer on her lap, seemingly indifferent to the situation on this side.

Ye Chang took the documents, flipped through them casually, and nodded: “Leave them here. I’ll look at them later.” She paused, then looked at Shen Silin, “How was your rest?”

“Very good, thank you, Ms. Ye,” Shen Silin replied.

Ye Chang hummed in acknowledgment, then turned her attention to the girl by the sofa, her tone unconsciously softening slightly, though only relative to her usual sternness: “Su Yu, this is Assistant Shen.”

The girl—Su Yu—looked up, meeting Shen Silin’s gaze again. Her eyes were calm and unmoving; she gave a very slight nod as a greeting but still did not speak.

Shen Silin also nodded back to the girl.

“You can go back to work now,” Ye Chang told Shen Silin. “There is a video conference at two o’clock this afternoon regarding the follow-up handling of the Madrid incident. You will attend.”

“Yes, Ms. Ye.” Shen Silin acknowledged and turned to leave.

The office door gently closed, separating Shen Silin from the interior.

Silence returned to the room, broken only by the subtle rustle of Ye Chang turning pages and the occasional, low-volume game sound effects from the tablet. Sunlight filtered through the blinds, cutting alternating lines of light and shadow across the carpet.

Ye Chang looked at the documents in her hand. Su Yu remained focused, her fingers sliding quickly and precisely across the tablet screen, completely immersed in her own world. But Ye Chang knew that the child’s perception of the outside world was far more acute than she let on.

“What feeling did that person give you, Xiaoyu?”

She did not ask direct questions like “What do you think of her?” or “Do you like her?” but used the more ambiguous, intuition-based word “feeling.”

Su Yu’s fingers stopped. She did not immediately look up or at Ye Chang. Her thick eyelashes were lowered, concealing her overly tranquil eyes. After a few seconds of silence, she clearly and plainly uttered three words:

“I don’t like her.”

There was no explanation, no adjectives, no reason. It was stated as objectively as saying, “It’s cloudy today,” yet it carried the undeniable intuitive judgment unique to a child.

Ye Chang didn’t look up, but she knew Su Yu’s expression at that moment.

There was no pouting or willful expression on Su Yu’s face, only a kind of almost indifferent certainty. She had been like this since childhood, possessing an almost instinctive, sharp intuition about people and things. Her “radar” seemed exceptionally sensitive. Over the past few years, her “dislikes” had several times proven accurate regarding certain people’s hidden intentions or unreliable nature.

Ye Chang did not press for “why.” She merely nodded very slightly, saying nothing, as if the question had been casual small talk and the answer inconsequential.

Su Yu closed the tablet screen and placed it gently on the thin blanket on her lap. The action carried a sense of decisiveness unsuited to her age. She looked up, and in those calm black eyes, there was no probing, no hesitation, only a clear, deliberate firmness.

“Auntie,” her voice was steady and articulate, “I want to skip grades and take the Gaokao directly.”

Ye Chang’s fingers, which were turning a page, paused. She looked up, her gaze like a tranquil deep pool, resting on Su Yu’s face. The girl had chosen the Physics, Chemistry, and Biology pure science combination, which already meant extreme difficulty and competitive intensity. Skipping grades to take the Gaokao clearly meant aiming for more than an ordinary institution.

“Reason,” Ye Chang said, her tone habitually calm.

“The curriculum lacks challenge.” She paused, seemingly searching for a more accurate expression. “Time is limited, and I want to use it more efficiently. Following the established path is for most people; it’s not suitable for me.” Her logic was almost cold in its clarity. “I have already self-studied the entire second year of high school math and science courses and am progressing through the third year content. Biology is slightly slower, but I expect to catch up next month. Chinese and English require accumulation but can be selectively strengthened.”

Ye Chang listened quietly. She never doubted Su Yu’s intelligence and self-learning ability, but such an aggressive compression of time…

“Su Yu,” Ye Chang leaned forward slightly, her gaze more focused, “Skipping the Gaokao means you need to complete all high school courses and reach a top-tier level in less than a year. This isn’t just an intellectual issue; it’s a huge burden on your body and mind. Your primary doctor reminded us last week that you need to avoid overexertion and prolonged high pressure.”

Su Yu met Ye Chang’s gaze, without the slightest hint of retreat: “I know. I will adjust my study pace and ensure I maintain my basic physical therapy and rest time every day. Pressure…” She pursed her lips. “I can manage it.”

Ye Chang gazed at her silently. On the girl’s pale face, those black eyes burned with an almost stubborn light. Behind that light was the clarity of someone who had perceived the world too early, the stubborn refusal to be limited by fate or body, and a trace of… an imperceptible, urgent desire to “become strong.”

This child was too much like her. Like her younger self, who once disregarded everything just to prove herself and protect what she loved.

Ye Chang sighed almost imperceptibly, the sigh so light it was merely a slightly longer breath. She put down the documents, left the large office chair, and walked over to Su Yu.

She crouched down beside the wheelchair, a movement that brought her eyes almost level with Su Yu’s. Sunlight streamed from the side, outlining Su Yu’s slender profile and the softened lines of Ye Chang’s face. Ye Chang raised her hand and gently stroked the top of Su Yu’s head, the action natural, carrying a rare, exposed warmth belonging to a senior relative.

The soft texture of the girl’s hair met her fingertips. Ye Chang’s gaze fell upon Su Yu’s features, which bore a resemblance to her own. This face carried her deepest remembrance of her sister and her entire responsibility and expectation for this child’s future.

So be it.

Since this was her well-considered choice, and since her eyes held such clear light and determination, then…

“So be it,” Ye Chang’s voice deepened, carrying a deeper tenderness and solemnity after the compromise. “I will agree to your request.”

Su Yu’s eyes widened abruptly, a clear brightness flashing within them, but she quickly restrained it, only her tense shoulders relaxing almost imperceptibly.

Ye Chang’s hand slid from the top of her head to her shoulder, pressing lightly, her eyes looking at her with utmost seriousness: “But, Su Yu, you must promise me to put your physical health first. The study plan must be scientific, balancing work and rest. Absolutely no overdrawing yourself. I will have the doctor and nutritionist formulate a more detailed plan, and you must strictly adhere to it. If I find you secretly staying up late or neglecting your body, the plan stops immediately. Understand?”

Her tone shifted from gentle to serious, carrying an undeniable bottom line.

“Understood.” Su Yu nodded firmly, her eyes clear and resolute. “I promise you, Auntie. I will take good care of myself.”

“Good.” Only then did Ye Chang stand up, but her hand lingered on Su Yu’s shoulder for a moment, as if transmitting some kind of strength.

Ye Chang looked at her once more before turning back to her desk. She needed to immediately contact relevant experts and institutions to build a stable and secure framework for Su Yu’s grade-skipping plan. This was not just academic acceleration; it was a systematic project that allowed for no mistakes.

Su Yu refocused her attention on the tablet, but the corners of her mouth curved into a tiny, almost invisible arc. It was the internal, restrained joy that came from receiving crucial support for a goal.

The office returned to silence, but the atmosphere was different from before. The sunlight was warm, and dust motes floated slowly in the light beams. An important and private agreement about the future had been silently reached between this special aunt and niece.