Chen Hao recognized the address before the app even loaded.
Grand Parkview Towers. Tower A. Same customer. Same gourmet noodle shop.
Same quiet tension in his chest.
He checked the order.
đ„ą Beef shank noodles, no corianderđ§ Jasmine milk tea, no sugarđ Message: "Use same rider if available."
That last line hit different.
He hadn't stopped thinking about her â the mysterious daughter of the woman in black, the one who had sent a „200 tip and a message that read like a riddle.
"The world is already late."
This time, he wasn't nervous.
He felt⊠curious.
The ride was smooth. No rain. No traffic. No rush.
He arrived at the gates just past 6:00 p.m., greeted again by the same concierge, who raised an eyebrow at him.
"You again."
"Guess the noodles are working," Hao replied with a smirk.
The concierge didn't smile. But this time, he didn't send him through the service elevator either.
Just buzzed him in.
Progress.
On the 22nd floor, the door opened before he knocked.
It wasn't the mother this time.
It was her.
The girl from the first order â maybe twenty-three, hair tied up in a messy bun, wearing a long t-shirt with ink stains on the sleeves. Her eyes had the kind of tired that came from thinking too much.
"You're early," she said.
"So is the food," he replied.
She laughed softly. "Fair."
She took the bag, but didn't close the door right away.
Instead, she asked, "Do you want to come in for a minute?"
Hao blinked. "What?"
"Just to sit. You look like you've been riding for hours. I haven't talked to anyone all day except my cat."
He hesitated.
Then nodded.
Her apartment smelled like tea and paint.
The living room was scattered with books, fashion magazines, and fabric samples. On one wall was a corkboard filled with pinned quotes.
She noticed him glancing at it.
"I collect lines," she said. "From poems, songs, random overheard stuff. Anything that makes me pause."
He stepped closer.
One of the notes read:"The city will break you if you let it. So don't."
Another said:"Loneliness isn't always a lack of people."
He turned to her. "You write these?"
"Some. Some I just steal."
He smiled. "You should put them on walls."
She grinned. "You sound like someone I'd get along with."
They sat on the floor. She handed him half a tea egg.
He bit in, careful not to spill.
"I'm Chen Hao," he said.
She looked surprised. "I'm Yuwei."
The name hung in the air like the scent of jasmine.
"Thanks for not just being a delivery guy," she said again.
Hao shook his head. "You keep saying that."
"Because most people never slow down long enough to be anything else."
They sat in silence after that.
And the city, for once, didn't feel like it was rushing past them.