He was leaving the office when his phone rang—his mother calling from the old house. Her voice came through wrapped in the irregular clack of mahjong tiles.
“…Your father had a checkup last week. Same old thing—the doctor told him to cut back on meat. I try to make him listen, but he won’t. He even snapped at me at the lunch table,” she said.
The words “lunch table” scattered his focus. After their frosty parting that noon, Su Yang hadn’t come down from upstairs. He’d been in a hurry to get back to the company and had told the housekeeper to call her; whether she had, he didn’t know.
“Azé? Azé?” His mother waited a beat, then raised her voice when she didn’t get an answer. “Are you listening, son?”
“Mom, what did you say just now?” he came back to himself, not bothering to explain he’d been half elsewhere.
“Is it true—you two registered?” she asked.
“Yes.” He shut off his computer, slid his glasses up the bridge of his nose and stood.
There was a moment of silence on the line, then his mother’s voice thickened. “When will you bring her home to eat? You can’t hide something like this forever. Once she’s out in the world, she’s already part of the Xu family.”
“I’ll bring her over when I have time,” he promised. He glanced at his watch, chatted with her a little more, and then hung up and left the office.
Zhao Rui drove him back from the city center to Wutong No.1. Before getting out, Xu pushed a scrap of paper across the passenger seat.
“Buy a set in these measurements,” he said. “And for shoes, grab one pair in sizes 35 and 36.”
Zhao glanced at the note and raised an eyebrow. “Boss, you want me to buy women’s clothes?”
Xu had his hand on the car door already. He pulled it open a crack, leaned in and added, “Be back within two hours. Anything overdue and you pay for it yourself.” Then he slammed the door and gave Zhao no room to argue.
The villa’s living room was bright. He changed shoes by the entrance and scanned for Su; only the housekeeper moved in the kitchen, ladling dishes onto plates.
“Oh, Mr. Xu, you’re back!” she jumped when she turned around—she hadn’t noticed him at the door.
“Where’s Miss Su?” he asked, voice low, like a violin string held under tension.
The housekeeper blinked. “I don’t know, sir.”
His hand paused at his tie; his brow tightened. “She hasn’t come back?”
“No, I arrived at four-thirty and there was no one home.” She thought for a moment. “Did she eat the lunch I left for her?”
“No.” The housekeeper shook her head and indicated the chilled dishes still sitting on the marble counter. “See? Untouched.”
A thin flare of anger leapt up in him. He didn’t even loosen his tie—he fished his phone out and called Su. The line clicked to an automated voice: “We’re sorry, the number you have dialed is switched off.”
Her phone had been a gift from a classmate back in senior year—functional enough, but with a battery that died fast. She’d rushed out that afternoon and forgotten the charger. Only on the subway, ready to head back to Wutong No.1, did she notice the dead screen. The apartment complex was right across the street from the station; it felt silly to hunt for a power bank. She shoved the phone into her bag, found a seat and let her mind go blank.
Xu tried three calls to no avail. The housekeeper, curious, asked, “Mr. Xu, are you going to wait for Miss Su to have dinner?”
He nodded and, as he turned to climb the stairs, told her, “Please wait to serve dinner until she gets back.”
Half an hour later there was finally the sound of the front door. The housekeeper ran to it and found Su pushing inside, soaked through. Thunder rumbled somewhere outside; the woman hurried to close the door.
“My goodness, when did it start pouring?” the housekeeper scolded. “Why aren’t you carrying an umbrella? You’re drenched.”
Su was a mess—rainwater plastered her hair to her neck and seeped through her thin tee. She’d been almost there when the sky opened and had no choice but to sprint the last block.
“Forgot it when I left,” she said, quickly swapping shoes and heading for the stairs.
“Change your clothes and come down—Mr. Xu’s been waiting a long time.” The housekeeper couldn’t help but call after her, thinking of the man upstairs who had tried to reach her.
Su’s step halted. “He’s back?” she asked, twisting to face the housekeeper.
“Yes.” The housekeeper nodded. “He came back and called but couldn’t get through. He’s been waiting.”
Su glanced at the wall clock—7:40. Her stomach did a small, guilty flip. She forced a smile and started running up the stairs in slippers. At the top step, she lost her footing and collided into someone.
She went into his arms.
The dampness on her skin seemed suddenly to evaporate into the cool, contained space around them. Her thin T-shirt clung to the rise of her curves; the warm, nervous little breaths she took smelled faintly sweet and effervescent, like lemonade fizzing in a glass—an impression that flashed through him.
“What are you running for?” he asked, steadying her. His grip might have been overbearing, but he didn’t press it.
“I—sorry. I didn’t know you were waiting for me.” She tried to step back, but realized his hand held her arm firmly.
She looked up at him in confusion; her eyes traveled from his fingers to the expressionless plane of his face.
“Why didn’t your phone go through?” His voice was steady, without much heat.
“Battery died,” she admitted.
At that, he loosened his hold and stepped aside. “Take a shower, change into something dry, and come down for dinner.”