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Mu Qing was running late for work.
He would have worried, really, if it wasn't for the fact he owns the said work. If he's late, who's going to scold him? Himself? Absurd, late or not, his presence isn't that as needed as the employees anyway.
He orders around, keeps balance, fix and settle papers, check the stability of his alliance with other companies and... well, repeat. That's his life as an adult, basically. He doesn't go to parties and waste his money on nonsense. Doesn't go getting drunk to the brim he wouldn't know if he suddenly got robbed. Doesn't go to stupid highschool reunions only to see his once bullies looking as though they'd just ran through the mud quite literally.
Although, the desire to see their dumbstruck faces upon learning who he is now is appealing.
Still, duties call and he's not really keen on having stacks and stacks of paper on his desk tomorrow if he doesn't come in today. There's a lot he wants and needs in his life, but more work is obviously not one of them.
He sighs, brushing a hand through his hair as he walks toward the elevator. His mask today was acting like a total bitch, it doesn't feel comfortable nor does it look comfortable when it's the usual one he always wear.
Pandemics fucking sucks.
However, being able to hide half his expression most of the time was absolutely priceless. He didn't need to put up with the plastic smiles just to make people stop shaking when giving out papers, nor does he actually need to keep his resting bitch face in check.
Which, he really never did even before all the mask thing.
The people from the elevator quickly disperses upon noticing him. Hastily making room for their boss in the elevator until it was empty as Mu Qing nods at them in acknowledgement with no words to offer reassurance or to ease his employees up. He's not the typical manager to give compliments for doing the bare minimum. Always making sure they've done better than what they usually do, then he'll give a 'good job' or 'nice'.
Other than that, nothing.
Does his employees hate him? Probably, probably not. He doesn't interact with any of them often enough to know or observe what they think about him. Even his personal assistant he does not know what runs through his head.
In terms of personal assistant, he no longer has one.
His previous assistant had resigned, health and family issues. He had stage two cancer and his family is going on a financial crisis, Mu Qing had offered to pay for whatver loan or mortgage his parents needed to pay. The assistant denied, Mu Qing still gave him a two years worth of salary before he left, including his personal contacts in case he needed more help.
What can he say, that personal assistant was the best he had. He'd been with him even before the company bloomed and became as rich and as famous now. Easy to understand, easy to learn, and easy to work with. He's not as smart as what Mu Qing prefers, but he definitely likes how quick he is to be taught.
Now, he's about to interview a whole lot of people that wants the position. About to go through utter hell for querying people as dumb as rocks. He wonders vaguely what aspect they knew they had to be able to get such high position in a prestigious company.
He leans on the wall of the elevator with closed eyes after pressing the button for his own floor. There's about ten he would interview today, and another ten tomorrow if he doesn't find anyone he particularly likes then so on and so forth.
Then he hears a few gasps, loud steps, and the sudden entering of another person just seconds before the elevator closed completely.
"Fuck." He hears, as another button was pressed. "I'm late."
Mu Qing arches a brow, opening his eyes to glance at a man standing just in front of the controller he knew full well does not work here. He eyes him up and down. His hair was in a neat bun, a long ribbon used to tie it as he wore a black suit. Small beads of sweat dribbles down from his neck as if he ran through a whole mile.
Then he tilts his head, his own mask covering most of his face as gold meets Mu Qing's eyes.
His eyes squint as though he was smiling, "Hi. Sorry, I didn't see you there."
Oh.
Oh fuck.
"Mm." He replies quietly. Averting his gaze just as the other faces the door again.
Who would have guessed that the man that had promptly threw himself in the elevator unbeknownst to the silverette being here as well was none other than his rival for years?
For two decades?
Mu Qing was just more surprised to see him alive, honestly. After disappearing out of thin air and meeting up again after another ten years. Bewildered, he clears his throat as quietly as he could.
Then the elevator stops.
He frowns. Checking the magnetic sensor only to see it had stopped in the midst of the fourth and fifth floor.
"Fuck." They say in unison as the man that Mu Qing had frustratingly familiarized as Feng Xin, presses the button of his desired floor again to no avail.
And it's the floor that Mu Qing specifically assigned for the interview.
Mu Qing folds his arms, sighing as he knew this was already being dealt with knowing an important man was in the elevator. They could only wait. For how long exactly? He wasn't sure, he just wishes it'd be soon.
"Shit." Feng Xin curses again, checking his watch and Mu Qing vaguely wonders when did he suddenly get so aggreived about being late?
For all the years they've competed in both academics and sports, he knew fully well that Feng Xin couldn't give a damn about being on time. Perks of having the surname of a wealthy and famous family. A dynasty of doctors and business people. He didn't have to worry, most especially because the school administrators did not want their constant donators to suddenly stop donating.
He rolls his eyes.
"They're already fixing the problem." He says monotony. Seeing the distress basically emitting from the other's body.
Why was he here anyway? Didn't he have a company of his own? Inherited by his parents?
"I'm sure they are. I just -" Feng Xin puffs a frustrated breath. "I'm already thirty minutes late."
It seems as though the silverette was yet to be recognized. "For what?"
"For a job interview." Feng Xin fiddles with the hems of his sleeve nervously. Unable to stay still as he bounces lightly on his feet. "At this point, I don't think I'm going to be able to enter the interview room." In defeat, he leans on the wall just beside him, sliding down with a heavy sigh. His head hanging low.
Mu Qing could not help but taste a distinctive flavour of emotion on his tongue as he watches the once proud and arrogant man be reduced to a man that gets nervous over interviews.
"Why do you need the interview?" He asks, making sure to keep his voice even and slightly deeper than normal.
"Uh, to be able to feed myself?" Feng Xin's tone was confused. "For money to survive? That probably won't be my answer to the manager, but in reality, that's why we need a job. To be able to work. To be able to have money in order to survive and live longer."
Mu Qing hums quietly. "What if you fail? What then?"
"If I fail here..." Feng Xin trails off, lifting his head momentarily to check the time again before hanging it once more. "Then I'll have to try to another. If it doesn't work, go to another. And repeat all over. Doesn't matter if the pay is absolute shit, as long as it does and as long as it could give me some sort of money enough to feed myself."
Then he lets out a tedious laugh. A sound Mu Qing marvels in upon hearing it as he had never heard that kind of laugh from this man before. "And if it still doesn't work, then I don't know. Kill myself? Ha ha.. ha ha.." He clears his throat.
"That's a terrible joke, I'm sorry. I'm rambling."
Mu Qing does not respond immediately. He lets the words sink in. To be so wealthy he does not even have to look at the price tags before, now unable to fend for himself - Mu Qing was uncertain what to feel about this new information.
He does, however, knows this one could be considered as not even close to a competition.
Because it cannot be a competition for once.
Alas, Mu Qing was a few steps ahead.
He smiles, unperturbed to hide it as the mask did its work. "Why did you apply for this position? What made you think you're qualified?"
"Why do I feel like this is already the interview?" Feng Xin chuckles lightly, his voice at ease. "Uh... how do I say this - I've worked at a company even before I reached sixteen."
Mu Qing is fully aware.
"The business industry has been the definition of my life ever since I could read and write." Feng Xin continues, as if every word was getting ripped out of his throat. Funny, Mu Qing muses, he'd always been boastful of it. "I'm sure you've not heard of this company, but my parents had owned the Feng Corporation. An infamous company just second to the Xian Le Enterprises."
"Outside of school, business was all what I know. My parents managed to train me to be a CEO assistant to a lower company before I was eighteen. I had more experience as a teenager in the office jobs than most adults I've encountered." He sighs again. "That probably sounds like a flex, I promise, it's not. It's more of an insult now."
"I see." Mu Qing checks his own watch, baffled to see it was only five minutes that had passed. "Are you confident in what you know and your skills?" He doesn't question what happened to the Feng and Xian Le companies. He knew what happened to the Xian Le Enterprises. It went bankrupt just as the son of the founder of it entered college, a cause of the disappearance of one of Mu Qing's friends.
The Feng Corporation though... all he heard was that it was still alive. However, that was five years ago.
"A bit." Feng Xin shrugs. "I mean, I'm really more confident with the way I can work, adjust and learn easily with the environment, as well as my fast reflexes and all."
Mu Qing purses his lips, eyes casted down toward the sitting man on the dirty floor of the elevator. His suit was ironed well, fixed and tidy. His formal shoes were shining, as though it was brand new. He wore an old watch. Old enough that Mu Qing familiarized it as the watch he wore when they were in freshman college.
What happened?
"But I don't know." Feng Xin spoke again. "I heard the big boss of this company was brutal and picky. Like... fuck, I don't even know why I'm trying here in the first place. Probably that desperate, I guess."
The elevator trembles a bit. An indication it had began moving once more as the magnetic sensor began moving again.
From what Mu Qing is aware about; Feng Xin is poor. Or at least not financially stable enough that he's here on the floor of the Xuan Zhen company rambling to basically a stranger for him.
He's not the brightest when it comes to the people he speaks to, never really was.
He was, however, both athletically and academically smart. Higher GPA than Mu Qing, and sometimes winning over most competitions of sports between other schools.
"Fix yourself up." He says instead, standing straight upon hearing the elevator bell ring. The doors open to the interview floor. "You're not late. You're also not early." He fixes his tie and sleeves, avoiding looking into the confused gaze.
He steps away from the elevator just as realization visibly washes over Feng Xin body.
"Wait-"
Mu Qing hastens his steps. "You'll do terrible in the interview. Best to not even bother doing it-"
"W-wait-" Feng Xin stumbles on his own feet as he tries to catch up to the silverette. "M-"
"Congratulations." Mu Qing opens the glass door open, closing it back and locking it as he strides toward the table. His breathing was rapid, ears red as though Feng Xin finally remembering who he is was like experiencing hell. He takes the folder from under the table and struts back toward the glass door.
Feng Xin was waiting on the other side. A folder of his own clutched in his hand as he stares wide eyed at the silverette approaching him.
Shoving the folder to Feng Xin's chest after opening the glass doors, he narrows his eyes. "You start now. Your office is set up just beside mine in the highest floor. One week of observation before you actually begin as my personal assistant."
"Your personal-" Feng Xin chokes on thin air. Eyes widening even more if that was possible as he steps back. "Mu Qing?"
Ah fuck.
Coldly, and as composed as he could be in his hazardous state and brutally pumping heart, he spoke, "It's Mu'Jingli."
And promptly runs back to the elevator like a coward.
"Mu Qing - oi?! Wait! Why didn't you tell me it was you?! Wait a second!"