The restaurant Mrs. Zhou chose is in the business district, tucked between high-rises in a way that makes it feel exclusive without being obvious about it.
We pull up to the entrance and Liang Feng gets out first, opening my door with that practiced efficiency that still feels weird to be on the receiving end of.
I step out, reaching back for the gift box sitting on the seat beside .
Liang Feng takes it before I can.
Right.
I can’t carry my own things apparently.
Gotta look cool.
I resist the urge to roll my eyes and just let him hold it as we walk inside.
The interior is beautiful in that understated way expensive places always are. Warm lighting, dark wood, tables spaced far enough apart that conversations stay private. Not packed, but not empty either, just the right amount of life to feel welcoming without being loud.
Mrs. Zhou is already here, sitting at a table in the upper section near the corner, positioned so she can see the entire restaurant spread out below.
She stands when she sees approaching, her smile warm and genuine.
"Mr Runze! So good to see you looking well," she says. "And as beautiful as always."
My face heats slightly. "Thank you, Mrs. Zhou. You look wonderful too."
She does, elegant in a way that looks effortless even though I know it’s not.
I gesture to Liang Feng, who steps forward and hands the box so I can present it properly.
"This is for you," I say, offering it to her. "For what you did at the wedding, I can’t thank you enough. And please, just call Runze."
Her eyes light up as she takes it, settling back into her seat as I take mine across from her.
"Oh, you didn’t have to do this," she says, already opening it with the kind of careful excitent that says she absolutely wanted to do exactly this. "I was actually thinking of calling you around the sa ti you ssaged yesterday, I—"
She stops.
Goes completely still.
Then lifts the bag out of the box like it’s made of glass, eyes wide.
"Runze," she breathes. "This is... this is from the Ciel Brillant collaboration line."
"Is it?" I try to sound casual. "The manager said it was limited."
"Limited?" She laughs, delighted. "There are only fifty of these in the entire world! I’ve been trying to get my hands on one for months!"
Oh.
Good timing then.
"I’m so glad you like it," I say.
"Like it? I love it!" She’s beaming now, turning it over in her hands to examine every detail. "This is perfect, absolutely perfect. The gala next week, I was trying to decide what to bring, and now..." She looks up at , eyes shining. "Thank you so much. Truly."
"You saved my life," I say simply.
The words co out lighter than they should.
Because the mory isn’t.
For a brief second, it flashes back anyway—the impact at my back, the ground rushing up, the sound of sothing breaking above .
If she hadn’t pulled back when she did...
I wouldn’t be sitting here, I wouldn’t be saying thank you.
I push the thought away before it settles too deeply.
"It’s the least I could do."
Before she can respond, a waiter appears beside our table, a young man with polite posture and a professionally warm smile.
"Good afternoon," he says. "Are you ready to order?"
Mrs. Zhou glances at . "Oh, let’s get food first. I’m absolutely starving."
Actually, now that she ntions it...
My stomach chooses that exact mont to make its opinion known.
" too," I admit.
She orders sothing that sounds complicated and expensive, then the waiter turns to expectantly.
"What’s the restaurant specialty?" I ask.
"The braised abalone in superior broth," he says. "It’s our signature dish."
That sounds incredible.
"I’ll have that."
"Excellent choice." He takes our nus and disappears.
Mrs. Zhou settles back in her seat, still looking pleased about the bag. "I’m so glad we could et today. I actually wanted to talk to you about sothing."
"Oh?"
"There’s a gala next week," she says. "One of the seasonal charity events. Mr. Kim and Mr. Wei have been asking about you, wanting to know when they’ll see you again. And I thought..." She pauses, smile turning a bit hopeful. "I’d really love it if you could co."
A gala with the spouse circle.
The thought settles sowhere between intimidating and strangely appealing.
A week ago, they looked at like I didn’t belong there. Now they’re asking when they’ll see again.
I’m not sure when that changed.
My phone buzzes on the table.
Once.
Then again.
I glance down and see Bael’s na on the screen.
Oh.
I sent him a ssage earlier: *I just spent a lot of money. You might be going bankrupt soon.*
I pick up my phone and unlock it, curious about what he said.
Bael: Scared?
I blink.
Then the next ssage loads.
It’s a screenshot.
...A bank statent in my na, showing a balance of one billion yuan.
I stare at it.
What?
Then another image loads below it.
A property deed for a house in France, also in my na.
Bael: Don’t worry. Even if I go bankrupt, you’ll be fine.
I stare at the screen, reading it again.
And again.
One billion yuan, a house in France, in my na.
The numbers don’t feel real. They sit there on the screen like sothing abstract, like they belong to soone else.
That isn’t money.
That’s... security, an exit., a life I could walk into if everything here fell apart.
For a mont, sothing tight in my chest loosens without my permission.
Then confusion rushes in right after it.
When did this even happen?
My fingers move before I can think.
: What? How co I didn’t know about this?
The response cos almost imdiately.
Bael: Because you’re too stupid to ever try to check the down compartnt in your wardrobe.
Heat floods my face.
He hid it in my wardrobe like so kind of treasure chest?
And now he’s calling stupid for not finding it?
My fingers slam against the keyboard.
: FUCK YOU!
Send.
The read receipt appears imdiately.
Then... nothing.
I stare at the screen, watching those three dots appear and disappear, appear and disappear.
Finally, after what feels like forever but is probably only a minute or two, the ssage cos through.
Bael: Co to the office now. I still have ti.
I blink.
: What for?
Bael: Co fuck .
I slam my phone face-down on the table.
"Oh my," Mrs. Zhou says, and when I look up she’s smiling at with barely contained amusent. "Was that your husband?"
My face is burning.
Absolutely burning.
"I... yes," I manage.
She laughs, light and warm. "Young love."
This isn’t love, I want to say.
This is Bael being impossible.
This is...
I don’t finish the thought.
Because I’m not entirely sure what it is.
But before I can figure out how to respond, the waiter returns with our food.
The abalone looks even better than it sounded. Rich broth, tender pieces of seafood, garnished with things I don’t recognize but sll incredible.
I take a bite.
Oh.
Oh, this is good.
Really good.
I have to physically stop myself from inhaling it like I haven’t eaten in days, rembering Grandmother’s lessons about eating with dignity even when the food is this delicious.
Mrs. Zhou is watching with that sa amused smile. "Good?"
"Very," I say, trying to sound composed.
She laughs again, then takes a sip of her tea. "So, about the gala. Do you think you’ll be able to co?"
I set down my spoon, thinking.
A gala with the spouse circle.
A chance to solidify these connections, to show I belong in this world I’ve been thrown into instead of just surviving at the edges of it.
And honestly?
It sounds kind of nice.
"Yes," I say. "I’d love to attend."
Her face lights up. "Wonderful! I’ll send you all the details. It’s formal, of course, but I’m sure you’ll look stunning no matter what you wear."
We continue eating, the conversation flowing easy and warm, and for the first ti in a while, I feel like I’m not just adjusting to this life.
I’m settling into it.
Even if my phone is still face-down on the table, Bael’s last ssage burning a hole through the screen.
*Co fuck .*
I take another bite of abalone.
And very deliberately don’t think about the fact that part of is already considering going.
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