Su Yang felt a little dazed as Xu Lize drove them out of the hospital's underground lot.
Even behind the wheel he sat ramrod-straight, appearing utterly focused while actually drifting somewhere else. His voice from a few minutes ago still rang in her ears—the way he'd spoken to He Juan, her mother.
"Leave her to me. I'll take care of her."
"We didn't have a wedding because it felt complicated and unnecessary. Yangyang and I decided we'd make up for it later—take a trip, call it a belated wedding and a honeymoon."
She remembered He Juan's face then: surprised and delighted all at once. Honestly, Su Yang herself had nearly been swept up by his words. It wasn't until they put some distance between the car and the hospital that she started to come back to herself.
"How long have you been planning that?" she asked, curiosity tugging at her as she replayed the scene.
"Planning what?" Xu Lize glanced over.
"Everything you said to my mom."
She thought for a moment. In that half hour in the ward he hadn't just charmed the aunts peeking in the doorway—he'd even tripped up the nurses at the desk, stealing their attention as they craned over the low counter to watch him.
"Those words need planning?" he sniffed lightly.
Su Yang felt heat rise to her cheeks and blinked, hiding a smile. "Anyway, I have to thank you for today. Really. You thought of things I'd never have. My mother… she was happy."
Saying it made her feel guilty—She knew better than anyone what He Juan worried about, and she hadn't expected her mother to be so relieved at the idea of having someone to lean on.
"I'm not that much older for nothing," Xu Lize said. "I've eaten a lot more salt than you have rice—thinking things through comes with the territory. Besides, she's your mother; taking care of her is what we should do." He nodded toward the glovebox in front of the passenger seat. "There's a red gift bag in there. Take it out and look."
She fished it out like he said. Inside the red bag was a black leather box, weighty and substantial. Her stomach tightened at the thought that it might contain an ostentatious, showy diamond ring.
Luckily, the box opened to reveal two matching bands—muted, elegant plain circles. The woman's band was set with three tiny diamonds in a neat row: delicate, tasteful.
"Somebody seems relieved," Xu Lize remarked, eyes on the road yet watching her from the corner of his gaze.
Suppressing a laugh, Su Yang stopped pretending to be shy and lifted the woman's ring. "May I try it?"
He nodded. She slipped it onto her right ring finger and it slid on smoothly—neither too loose nor too tight. She stared at him, astonished. "How did you guess my ring size? I don't even know my own."
"By eye," he said simply. It wasn't a lie. When he'd been in B City on business and had gone to a mall to buy the rings, he'd sized them roughly against his pinky and planned to have the jeweler resize them if needed. He hadn't expected it to be such a perfect fit.
"Thank you," she said impulsively, then corrected herself. "I mean… thank you for being so thoughtful."
He glanced at the dashboard clock. "Do you have anywhere else to be tonight?"
When she shook her head, he eased his foot on the accelerator. "Let's eat out. One last night of singlehood, in spirit."
He took her to a tucked-away little Japanese restaurant hidden down a narrow alley. There was no street parking, so he left the car in a nearby public lot and they walked. It wasn't dinner rush yet; the alley was quiet except for a few girls stopping for photos—high, bell-like laughter spilling over the walls where ivy climbed, the sound bright against the heavy summer heat.
A uniformed server greeted them at the door and led them through an old wooden gate into a serene courtyard. Pebbled pathways, a small arched stone bridge, and a shallow pond glinting at the center: a pocket of calm.
Su Yang leaned over the bridge and peered into the clear water. Plump koi swam lazily beneath the surface, their black, white, and red scales like water-borne blossoms.
The staff treated Xu Lize like a regular, chatting about the day's fresh deliveries and asking if he wanted their usual private room. He answered casually, glancing back to check on her.
Inside, the private rooms were staggered by shōji screens, each with a poetic name: "Autumn Longing," "Before the Red Hibiscus," "Tonight, Which Night," "Bamboo Drowses to Rain"—signs of a proprietor with taste. They were guided into a tatami room by the pond; the wooden plaque hanging in the upper-left read: "Not as Peach and Apricot."
Su Yang smiled at the name before she could stop herself. Xu Lize noticed the motion—the little change in her expression.
"What's up?" he asked as the server handed them menus.
She glanced once at the server and shook her head, not wanting to make a fuss. When he asked if she had any dietary restrictions she admitted with a small, honest laugh, "I've never had Japanese food before. You pick—I don't mind."
He seemed mildly surprised by how candid she was, but he didn't argue; he ordered decisively and then asked, "Do you want to drink?"
"No, just water," she said quickly. "I get tipsy easily."
He ordered a pot of barley tea. The server closed the wooden sliding door softly with a click as they retreated, leaving the two of them alone in the intimate room.
Xu Lize propped his chin in his hand and looked at her with steady attention. Then he circled back to the question that had been at the edge of his tone all evening.
"Now you can tell me," he said. "When we came in you were grinning like an idiot—what were you so happy about?"