Chapter 49: hapter 49: Invitation
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 me.
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 me 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 me 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 me 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 excitement that says she absolutely wanted me to do exactly this. "I was actually thinking of calling you around the same time you messaged me 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 me, eyes shining. "Thank you so much. Truly."
"You saved my life," I say simply.
The words come out lighter than they should.
Because the memory isn’t.
For a brief second, it flashes back anyway—the impact at my back, the ground rushing up, the sound of something breaking above me.
If she hadn’t pulled me 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 me. "Oh, let’s get food first. I’m absolutely starving."
Actually, now that she mentions it...
My stomach chooses that exact moment to make its opinion known.
"Me too," I admit.
She orders something that sounds complicated and expensive, then the waiter turns to me 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 menus and disappears.
Mrs. Zhou settles back in her seat, still looking pleased about the bag. "I’m so glad we could meet today. I actually wanted to talk to you about something."
"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 come."
A gala with the spouse circle.
The thought settles somewhere between intimidating and strangely appealing.
A week ago, they looked at me like I didn’t belong there. Now they’re asking when they’ll see me again.
I’m not sure when that changed.
My phone buzzes on the table.
Once.
Then again.
I glance down and see Bael’s name on the screen.
Oh.
I sent him a message 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 message loads.
It’s a screenshot.
...A bank statement in my name, 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 name.
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 name.
The numbers don’t feel real. They sit there on the screen like something abstract, like they belong to someone else.
That isn’t money.
That’s... security, an exit., a life I could walk into if everything here fell apart.
For a moment, something 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.
Me: What? How come I didn’t know about this?
The response comes almost immediately.
Bael: Because you’re too stupid to ever try to check the down compartment in your wardrobe.
Heat floods my face.
He hid it in my wardrobe like some kind of treasure chest?
And now he’s calling me stupid for not finding it?
My fingers slam against the keyboard.
Me: FUCK YOU!
Send.
The read receipt appears immediately.
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 message comes through.
Bael: Come to the office now. I still have time.
I blink.
Me: What for?
Bael: Come fuck me.
I slam my phone face-down on the table.
"Oh my," Mrs. Zhou says, and when I look up she’s smiling at me with barely contained amusement. "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 smell 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, remembering Grandmother’s lessons about eating with dignity even when the food is this delicious.
Mrs. Zhou is watching me with that same 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 come?"
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 time 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 message burning a hole through the screen.
*Come fuck me.*
I take another bite of abalone.
And very deliberately don’t think about the fact that part of me is already considering going.