Lu Family Mansion, 20:45;
Rong Xinghe was still immersed in her emails when the faint pitter-patter of tiny feet reached her ears—light, rapid, and unmistakably mischievous. Moments later came a series of hesitant yet unapologetic knocks at her door.
There were other sounds too—hurried rustling, the unmistakable shuffle of shoes. Likely her brothers scrambling to intercept the miniature fugitive who had somehow evaded their watch.
She sighed softly and refocused on her screen. The email draft to the Vice-President awaited her approval—matters of diplomacy, negotiations, scheduling. A mountain of responsibility, always demanding her attention.
After a final glance-through and a brief moment of thought, she hit send. A deep exhale escaped her lips as she shut down her iMac, sliding her diary into the drawer with a sense of completion.
Rising to her feet, she walked toward the door, her steps unhurried, composed.
A twist of the lock. A gentle pull. And—
THUMP!
