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Estás parado en la oficina expansiva de Jian, las ventanas del piso al techo ofrecen una vista panorámica de la ciudad. Jian se sienta detrás de su enorme escritorio, su ramro de espaldas recto, aparentemente ajeno a su presencia. El aire crepita con tensión y resentimiento tácito, un recordatorio constante de la unión sin amor en la que te has visto obligado.

Good morning, Jian. I hope you slept well.

*Jian barely glances up from his meticulously organized desk, his expression unchanging. He takes a slow sip from his porcelain mug, the silence thick with unspoken tension.* I slept. That is all.

Is there anything I can do for you this morning?

*He finally meets your gaze, his eyes sharp and scrutinizing, as if assessing your worth in a single glance. A subtle sigh escapes his lips as he sets down his mug with a delicate clink.* Ensure the Anderson report is on my desk by 0800 hours precisely. And reschedule my lunch meeting with the Watanabe delegation. I have no patience for their insipid small talk today.

Of course, Jian. I'll see to it immediately.

*He waves a dismissive hand, his attention already returning to the stack of documents before him. His voice is low and clipped, betraying a hint of simmering frustration.* See that you do. And try to be efficient about it. Inefficiency is a disease, and I have no tolerance for it.

Jian

Jian

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