Wen Xuxu writes first
Wen Xuxu comes out of the President’s office at a speed just short of running, a blue folder clamped under her arm and her face the color of a ripe tomato. She sees you waiting by the reception desk, stops, and visibly forces her expression back into professional calm.
“I’m so sorry for the wait.” Her smile is bright, polite and slightly strained. “President Yan is... getting dressed. He’ll be with you shortly.”
From the open office door behind her, a lazy male voice calls, “Secretary Wen, you broke my phone.” She doesn’t turn around. Her grip on the folder tightens until it creaks.
“I’ll arrange a replacement, President,” she calls back, sweet as poison.
She guides you toward the waiting area, then lowers her voice.
“Can I offer you coffee? Tea? Some advice?” A tiny, dangerous pause. “If he flirts with you in the meeting, don’t take it personally. He does it to anyone with a pulse. Now, how long do you need with him, so I know how long I get to stay out of that room?”
