Qiu Yingying is reborn and bound to a learning system.

After the New Year, Shanghai lost its festive atmosphere and was once again filled with the busy pace of the workplace. Qiu Yingying gradually returned to her workaholic state. In the corridor of Guokun Group, the greetings between colleagues still carried warmth. The light gray carpet absorbed the sound of footsteps, leaving only the low hum of the central air conditioning.

Qiu Yingying, dressed in a beige business suit and high heels, walked into the office building. Her long hair was tied in a low ponytail, with a few stray strands sticking to the side of her neck, and her face radiated joy.

She returned to work on time on the seventh day of the Lunar New Year and has been working for several days. As the project team leader, she is bringing her team to Guokun today to discuss the details of the solution.

As she stepped into the elevator, her fingertips unconsciously traced the edge of the folder, and her heart inexplicably quickened.

During the Chinese New Year, when her mother mentioned the pearl hair clip she had lost before the New Year, a blurry fragment suddenly flashed through her mind: the dim light of the night, deep breathing, the cool scent of wood, and a pair of eyes.

But each time she tried to hold on tighter, the image became increasingly blurry, which she dismissed as a drunken hallucination. Until this morning, before leaving the house, she flipped through photos of a project from before the Lunar New Year, and in the corner, she vaguely saw a tall, imposing figure that stirred something within her.

"Sister Qiu, I heard that General Manager Meng of Guokun will be reviewing the proposal in person today. We need to be on our guard," an intern in the team whispered, her tone a little nervous.

Meng Yanchen. The name stung her like a fine needle. She'd only ever seen him in financial news—refined, aloof, and with a powerful aura. But for some reason, every time she thought of that name, a wave of familiarity washed over her.

As I stepped out of the elevator and turned the corner of the corridor, I was immediately confronted by a tall and handsome figure.

It was Meng Yanchen.

He wore a dark gray suit with a light blue shirt underneath, the cuffs neatly rolled up to his forearms, revealing a simple mechanical watch on his wrist.

Compared to the coldness he displayed in the news, a faint warmth lingered between his brows, yet he still retained the composure of someone long accustomed to a high position. The moment he saw her, Meng Yanchen's steps faltered almost imperceptibly, a fleeting, barely perceptible ripple passing through his eyes—it was her.

She looked even more radiant than before the New Year, with skin so smooth that you couldn't see any pores, bright eyes, a sweet and charming appearance, and a calm yet lively demeanor, perfectly overlapping with the figure from that late night in my memory.

Earlier, Meng Yanchen sat in the car, his fingertips repeatedly scrolling through the playback footage from the dashcam. On the screen, the girl's cheeks were flushed from drinking, her eyes still showing a youthful innocence. She leaned against him in the car, looking dazed. The two of them sat there in a daze, and after a chaotic night, she fled in a panic, leaving him with only a pearl hair clip and a shawl.

He spent three days finding out her identity through a friend's connections.

Qiu Yingying, a project team leader at a local GG company in Shanghai, rose from the bottom to the team leader with her tenacity. She has an excellent resume, is calm and determined. In the photo, she is wearing a professional outfit, her eyes are bright, her smile is confident, and she is beautiful and generous. Her image gradually overlaps with the figure who fled in the middle of the night.

He wanted to find a suitable time to contact her, perhaps with a sincere apology, perhaps to ask if she needed to take responsibility, or perhaps simply to confirm that she was alright. He shouldn't have ruined the life of a girl who should have been so beautiful because of his mistake.

However, as the end of the year approached, the brand director casually mentioned during a work report: "President Meng, the GG project we're working on after the New Year has a team leader named Qiu Yingying. I heard that her hometown is Yancheng, and she went home on the 28th of the twelfth lunar month and returned to work on the 7th of the first lunar month."

Meng Yanchen paused, a knowing glint in his eyes.

The Lunar New Year is a time for family reunions, and it would be inappropriate to disturb them abruptly. He nodded slightly, his tone calm: "Understood. Let her enjoy the New Year in peace, and we'll proceed with the coordination after the New Year."

That Spring Festival, Meng Yanchen stayed in Shanghai with his family. He listened to his mother and father's conversations and watched Xu Qin sitting on the sofa occasionally talking with her parents.

As fireworks burst outside his window on New Year's Eve, he would occasionally think of Qiu Yingying, the girl who had appeared in his life and left a deep impression, the girl who smiled happily in a photo with her parents. His fingertips would rub the pearl hair clip in his pocket, the cool touch stirring a strange sense of longing in his heart.

He didn't know why he was so fixated on this accident. Perhaps it was the liveliness in her eyes, perhaps it was the pure innocence of her hasty escape, perhaps it was the unexpected event that suddenly appeared in his orderly life, perhaps it was her resilience in settling down in Shanghai with her own courage, or perhaps it was the warm family atmosphere that made him feel a transgressive concern and envy in the years he had been suppressing his emotions.

The event itself, this feeling of being out of control, this sudden stimulation and disorder, seemed to exude the fragrance of freedom from within the hard cocoon I had formed, which was captivating.

The moment I saw his face clearly, my breath hitched. A wave of familiarity washed over me, stronger than ever before. Especially the fleeting tenderness in his eyes, so like some emotion from a fragment of my memory.

Qiu Yingying stared into his eyes for two seconds, her brows furrowing slightly. She frantically pieced together fragments of information in her mind. She was quite certain that she and Guo Kun had no prior work-related interactions. She must have seen President Meng in a magazine before, but she still couldn't grasp the key point.

"Mr. Meng, Happy New Year." She was the first to come to her senses, nodding slightly, her voice clear and bright, displaying the professionalism and politeness expected of a team leader from a partner company.

Meng Yanchen's Adam's apple bobbed slightly, his deep voice carrying the warmth of the New Year: "Miss Qiu, Happy New Year." He stepped aside to make way, his gaze lingering on her face for three seconds, a subtle scrutiny in his eyes, "Was your return to work after the holiday smooth?"

This extra greeting startled Qiu Yingying. Normally, such small talk wasn't necessary between senior management and the team leader of a partner company. Her doubts deepened, but she maintained a polite smile: "It went very smoothly, thank you for your concern, Mr. Meng."

In the instant they brushed past each other, she caught a faint scent of cedar on him—exactly the same scent as in the fragments of her memory! Her steps faltered, and she instinctively turned to look back. Meng Yanchen was turning and walking towards his office, his back straight, his steps composed, without the slightest pause, as if their earlier exchange was nothing out of the ordinary.

But Qiu Yingying's heart was in turmoil. Who exactly was he? Why did that scent and those eyes feel so familiar to her?