Intimate Trial Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The plane on its return journey was cruising in the stratosphere. Outside the porthole, the deep blue sky and the sea of clouds seemed frozen in place. The engine emitted a continuous, low hum. The cabin lights were dimmed, and most passengers had fallen asleep or were resting their eyes.

Shen Silin sat by the window, unconsciously rubbing the edge of the deep blue velvet gift box in her hand. The fabric was soft and delicate, cool to the touch. She didn’t open the box, but the Rose Guarded by Thorns brooch inside seemed to possess its own weight and temperature, transmitting through the velvet to her fingertips.

The brief trip to Madrid, lasting only a few days, felt like a highly concentrated battle and a baptism. The storm at the Singapore Branch, the undercurrents at the auction, and Ye Chang’s demeanor—sometimes thunderous, sometimes coldly precise, and sometimes revealing an almost philosophical stillness—all of it, along with this brooch of complex significance. Everything had happened too fast, the information overload too great. Only now, during the return flight, did she have a moment of respite to reflect and digest.

She turned her head slightly to look at Ye Chang beside her.

Ye Chang had reclined her seat, her eyes closed, her breathing steady and deep. She appeared to be asleep. Stripped of all external armor and expression management, her sleeping face showed a rare softness and fatigue. The morning light filtered through the porthole, casting faint shadows on her face. The curve of her eyelashes was clearly visible, and the usually tightly pressed line of her lips was slightly relaxed. The Patek Philippe Aquanaut was still on her wrist, its dial emitting a subtle metallic sheen in the dim light.

This was the person who had almost cruelly bankrupted her family, and then, when she was desperate, had taken her under her wing, granting her a trust and a test that was almost severe. In Madrid, she had witnessed Ye Chang’s decisive ruthlessness as a top executive, and also glimpsed her unfathomable strategy and lonely introspection. The gift of the brooch felt even more like a hidden acknowledgment and expectation, wrapped within a cold, sharp warning.

Shen Silin withdrew her gaze and looked back at the gift box in her hands. The texture of the velvet beneath her thumb was distinct. She recalled what Ye Chang had said in the car—”Remember what the fervent desire surrounded by thorns looks like.”

What was her fervent desire? Was it revenge? Was it to prove herself? Or, at a deeper level, was it to reclaim a lost sense of dignity and control, or even to find a value of existence that was equal to the person who had once defeated her?

And the thorns? They were the mask of composure she had to wear, the strategic depth she needed to learn, the distance between her and Ye Chang that was both attractive and dangerous, and the overt and covert attacks she would inevitably face on her future path.

She gently opened the box. In the dim light, the ruby’s glow was restrained yet resolute, and the surrounding thorns shimmered with a cold, silver brilliance. It was beautiful, and dangerous. Like her current situation, and like her increasingly complex feelings toward Ye Chang—a mix of awe, opposition, scrutiny, and an inexplicable stirring of attraction toward a powerful presence.

She closed the box and carefully tucked it into a hidden compartment of her carry-on bag. Then, she reclined her seat and closed her eyes as well.

The engine hummed on, the plane steadily traversing the clouds, flying eastward, toward their shared battlefield and future. Shen Silin knew that once they landed, the real contest would only enter a new phase. The Singapore Branch issue might be temporarily resolved, but the vortex surrounding Ye Chang, and the past and future she herself carried, would only become more turbulent.

And she had chosen to accept the thorn and the ruby. This meant she was ready to step into that unknown, perhaps even more breathtaking territory, with a completely new attitude.

After disembarking and stepping onto familiar soil, the air carried the familiar dust and humidity. The lingering heaviness of the long flight hadn’t completely faded, but the company’s dedicated car was quietly waiting at the exit.

The car door closed, isolating them from the airport’s bustle. A faint scent of leather cleaner permeated the cabin. Shen Silin sat in the passenger seat, while Ye Chang handled documents in the back.

“You worked hard these past few days,” Ye Chang’s voice sounded from the back seat, still flat and devoid of much emotion. “I’m giving you three days off, paid. Rest well.”

Shen Silin was slightly taken aback. Three days of paid leave, after such an intense, high-pressure international assignment, was generous treatment, even exceeding the norm. But she immediately realized that this was not just consideration; it was likely part of Ye Chang’s arrangement—giving her time to process and settle, and also temporarily removing her from the center of attention to avoid unnecessary internal scrutiny or speculation arising from the Madrid incident.

“Thank you, Ms. Ye,” Shen Silin accepted without demur. “I will adjust my condition.”

“Mm.” Ye Chang acknowledged, her gaze still fixed on the documents in her hand.

The car drove smoothly onto the city highway. After a brief silence, Ye Chang spoke again. This time she didn’t look up, and her voice was particularly clear in the enclosed cabin:

“The Madrid matter was handled well. Especially in the final stages, your grasp of details and your on-the-spot reactions exceeded my expectations.” Her praise was still sparse, but the phrase “exceeded my expectations,” coming from Ye Chang, was the highest possible recognition.

Shen Silin’s heart stirred slightly, but her tone remained steady: “It was Ms. Ye’s clear preliminary strategy that gave me direction and room to maneuver.”

Ye Chang seemed to subtly twitch the corner of her mouth, but didn’t reply. After a moment, she said, “The business world is a battlefield, and also a mirror. It reflects your opponent, and it reflects yourself. What you saw and learned this time is far more than just handling a branch crisis. Remember this feeling, remember the ability to stay clear-headed under pressure and find the thread in complexity. That is your greatest gain from this trip.”

Her words were pointed, not just a summary of the work, but a deeper kind of guidance. Shen Silin listened carefully, committing every word to memory.

The car entered the city and first approached Shen Silin’s residence.

“Please stop here, thank you,” Shen Silin told the driver.

The car pulled over. Shen Silin picked up her luggage. Before opening the door, she paused and turned to Ye Chang: “Ms. Ye, I’ll head back now. Please rest well too.”

Ye Chang finally turned her head, her gaze resting on Shen Silin’s face. Her eyes were deep and calm, seemingly able to penetrate the fatigue Shen Silin had accumulated over the past few days and her not-yet-settled emotions. She nodded slightly: “Go.”

Shen Silin got out and closed the door. The black sedan quickly merged into the traffic flow and disappeared from sight.

She stood on the familiar street corner, pulling her suitcase. The evening breeze was warm on her face. The three-day holiday felt like an abrupt rest note inserted into this tightly paced movement.

She lowered her head, retrieved the deep blue velvet box from the backpack compartment, and held it in her palm. The cool touch reminded her that everything in Madrid was not a dream—the war without smoke, the undercurrents of confrontation, the Rose Guarded by Thorns given with warning and expectation, and Ye Chang’s eyes that seemed to see through everything.