“Please wrap that safety lock for me.”
Chi Yu pointed to the little lock tucked in the far corner of the display case.
The shopkeeper followed his finger. When her eyes fell on the pendant, the pupils behind her glasses flickered, and she stepped toward him.
She looked to be around fifty. Pushing her glasses up, she studied Chi Yu for a long beat before speaking, her voice layered with meaning.
“Sir, are you sure you want this one?”
Chi Yu blinked. Shopkeepers don’t usually ask customers if they’re sure. It sounded like a thinly veiled attempt to put him off.
He frowned slightly but nodded nonetheless. “Yes. I’m sure.”
“May I ask… why this particular lock?”
The lock had been made years ago by a young woman as a protective charm for her newborn. It was plain — no gaudy decorations, no delicate filigree like the pieces beside it. Compared to the rest of the merchandise, it was almost forgettable. Because its owner never came to collect it, the shopkeeper had relegated it to the back shelf and hardly expected anyone to notice.
Nearly twenty years had passed without a claim. Chi Yu was the first person to pay it any mind, and the shopkeeper’s expression sharpened with curiosity.
Chi Yu grew a little annoyed at the unexpected interrogation, but he turned his gaze away from the woman and toward the girl standing a short distance off.
“It’s for her,” he said. “She likes it. I want to give it to her.”
The woman glanced over at Jiang Zhirou. When the three of them had entered the shop, Chen Yixia had been in front and had blocked the young woman from view. Now that the owner could see her, her pupils widened and surprise flashed across her face.
She looked too much like the girl who had ordered the pendant all those years ago.
Realization softened the surprise into a long, almost regretful sigh. “Is that so…”
Without another word, she picked up the lock and walked over to Jiang Zhirou.
“Child,” she said, voice gentle. “This lock has been in my shop for many years. You’re the only one who’s taken an interest — perhaps it’s fate. Take it.”
Before Jiang Zhirou could find her voice, the shopkeeper had slipped the tiny lock into the girl’s palm.
Jiang Zhirou snapped back to herself and began to refuse in a flurry. “No, no — this is my first time in your shop. I can’t accept a gift before I’ve even bought anything. I can’t — you must keep it; let it go to another who needs it.”
She reached to return the pendant, but a hand closed over hers. Chi Yu tapped Jiang Zhirou’s hand once, and the shopkeeper smiled brightly as she shifted the conversation.
“Mr. wasn’t he saying he wanted to buy something for you? The display in the center is our most precious piece — the Sea‑Blue Heart. It’s a rare sapphire, known to symbolize eternal, steadfast love. Take the lock as a gift with that diamond. How about it?”
Jiang Zhirou’s jaw almost hit the floor. It was one thing to let someone be generous; it was another to suggest buying the store’s most expensive treasure. Even she, with little knowledge of gems, could tell the sapphire was valuable. If her guess was close, the price would start at twenty million dollars — and she and Chi Yu were strangers. More than etiquette, she worried about the message it would send. A symbolic diamond like that implied a declaration; if she accepted it without returning the feeling, people would call her a fortune-hunting liar overnight.
She shook her head so vigorously it was almost comical. Before she could speak, Chi Yu cut in with a calm, almost breezy voice.
“Sounds good.” His displeasure from moments before had vanished; he was all easy smiles now. “The Sea‑Blue Heart would suit Miss Jiang perfectly. Put it on my card.”
Jiang Zhirou was still frozen in disbelief when Chi Yu’s payment cleared. The shopkeeper reverently packed both the sapphire and the little lock into a single velvet box and handed it to Jiang Zhirou.
“Miss Jiang,” Chi Yu said, extending the box, “I hope you like it.”
All eyes fell on her. Now was not the time to embarrass him. She took the box, letting the velvet cool against her palms. For an instant, a pleased smile flitted across Chi Yu’s face — then she opened the box, pulled out the lock, snapped the lid shut, and handed the case back.
“I’ll take only this,” she said softly. “I appreciate the thought, but that jewel… it’s too extravagant. And with the meaning it carries, it isn’t appropriate for me to accept. You should give something like that to the person you love.”
Chi Yu’s grin faded. He tried to press the box back into her hands. “It’s just symbolism — a sales pitch. Miss Jiang, don’t put stock in—”
“Xiaxia, are you done?” Jiang Zhirou interrupted, turning to Chen Yixia. “I’m a little tired. Let’s finish tomorrow.”
Chen Yixia seemed to notice Jiang Zhirou’s discomfort and linked her arm through hers. “I’m done too. Let’s go.”
Jiang Zhirou and Chen Yixia drifted away, their silhouettes shrinking down the street. Chi Yu sat on the edge of the shopfront for a beat, fingers tightening around the velvet box until the cardboard creaked.
“Love isn’t a one‑person performance,” the shopkeeper murmured from beside him. “You have to let her know how you feel — you can’t win a heart by staying quiet.”
Chi Yu looked up at her without hurry. “The intended owner of that lock… was her, wasn’t it?”
The shopkeeper’s face betrayed no surprise; instead, there was something like quiet approval. She told him the story — how Jiang Yan had had the lock made for her newborn daughter, how no one ever came to collect it. Chi Yu had suspected much, but hearing it made something ache in his chest. He lowered his voice.
“Aunt Jiang is gone.”
The woman tightened her hands around the rosary at her throat and made a small prayer gesture. The girl who had ordered the pendant had not been the sort to break promises. When the pendant had been finished and no one came, she had probably already guessed why.
“People leave,” the shopkeeper said, glancing at the two figures growing smaller down the street. “Are you not going to follow?”
Chi Yu nodded politely as if to say goodbye, then stepped out onto the pavement.
The shopkeeper called after him, correcting his earlier dismissal. “And one more thing — the Sea‑Blue Heart’s meaning? That wasn’t a marketing ploy.”