Chapter 11: A Mother’s Stand

The boardroom smelled of expensive leather and quiet tension. Nora sat at the far end of the table, flipping through the latest design proposal when a voice cut through the silence.

"Embroidery is charming," said Mr. Chen, a senior finance officer, "but it's not scalable. We can replicate all of this with machines."

A few people murmured in agreement. Nora's hand paused mid-turn.

She stood slowly.

"With respect," she said, voice calm but clear, "machine stitches don't carry memory. They don't carry story."

Chen raised an eyebrow. "Sentimentalism doesn't drive profits."

Nora didn't flinch. "Then explain why handcrafted embroidery pieces are auctioned for more than most of our quarterly design lines combined."

There was a long silence.

Then, from the head of the table, Julian Zhao spoke.

"She's right."

All eyes turned toward him. He hadn't looked up from his laptop, but his voice was sharp and final.

"Celestial Script was built on heritage. If you can't see value in that, Mr. Chen, then perhaps we need to revisit which department truly lacks vision."

The room fell still.

Chen shrank back. "Understood, President Zhao."

Julian said nothing more. But for the rest of the meeting, he didn't interrupt Nora again.

And she understood something she hadn't before.

He was watching.

Closely.