The mansion's foyer looked like the staging area for a royal parade.
Stylists moved in and out with garment bags, shoe boxes, and trays of cufflinks. The faint smell of hairspray hung in the air.
Zhao Wei stood at the base of the staircase, watching as a tailor knelt to adjust the hem of his suit trousers. "Is this… really necessary?" he asked.
Gao Fang, as ever, was calm and precise. "The charity gala is covered by every major news outlet in the city, sir. The cameras will be on you all night. Appearances are important."
Zhao Wei glanced over at the real reason he'd agreed to go — Xiao An, sitting on a velvet armchair, wearing a tiny navy suit. The boy's feet didn't reach the floor, and his small hands kept fidgeting with the button on his jacket.
"Does he have to wear all that?" Zhao Wei asked quietly.
"It's formal attire," Gao Fang replied, as though that settled it.
---
The ride to the venue was quiet, the city's evening lights reflecting off the tinted windows. Zhao Wei kept sneaking glances at Xiao An. The boy sat perfectly still, staring out at the passing skyline.
"You ever been to something like this before?" Zhao Wei asked.
No answer. Just a small shrug.
Zhao Wei leaned back, deciding not to push. He'd learned yesterday that silence was safer than questions that pressed too close.
---
The gala was being held in the grand ballroom of the Regal Crown Hotel — the kind of place Zhao Wei had only ever seen from the outside. Crystal chandeliers spilled light over tables draped in white linen. Waiters in crisp uniforms carried trays of champagne.
The moment they stepped inside, Zhao Wei felt the shift. Heads turned. Conversations paused. The click-click of camera shutters filled the air.
"There's Li Shen," someone whispered. "He brought the boy."
Gao Fang leaned in. "Smile, sir. And keep walking."
Zhao Wei tried, though it probably looked more like a grimace. Xiao An's small hand was tucked into his, warm but limp.
---
They hadn't made it ten steps before the first reporter appeared, recorder in hand.
"Mr. Li, could you tell us about your sponsorship of the Literacy Fund?"
Zhao Wei's mind went blank. He forced a polite tone. "It's… important to invest in the future. Education changes lives."
The reporter nodded, but her eyes flicked to Xiao An. "And this young man? Is he your son?"
Before Zhao Wei could answer, Gao Fang stepped in smoothly. "We're not taking personal questions tonight. Excuse us."
They moved on, weaving through the crowd. Zhao Wei's pulse was still high. He'd survived the question, but just barely.
---
Halfway through the evening, the event's MC called the sponsors to the stage for a photo. Zhao Wei knelt slightly so Xiao An could stand in front of him. The boy's small shoulders were tense, his eyes darting to the sea of cameras.
"Hey," Zhao Wei murmured, low enough for only him to hear. "You're doing fine."
Xiao An blinked, then — for just a second — leaned back against him.
The cameras flashed, freezing the moment in a burst of light.
---
Dinner was a blur of speeches, polite applause, and the slow torture of small talk. Zhao Wei learned quickly that people didn't so much speak to Li Shen as they performed for him — rattling off updates, pitches, and half-compliments designed to curry favor.
He nodded where it seemed appropriate, though most of his attention stayed on Xiao An, who picked at his food and seemed to retreat further into himself with every clink of silverware.
Finally, Zhao Wei leaned over. "Want to get some air?"
The boy hesitated, then nodded once.
---
Outside on the terrace, the city stretched out below them in glittering lines. The cool night air was a relief after the ballroom's heat.
Zhao Wei rested his hands on the railing, giving Xiao An space.
"Not really your kind of thing, huh?"
The boy glanced up at him, then — to Zhao Wei's surprise — spoke for the first time.
"It's too loud."
Zhao Wei straightened, almost startled by the sound of his voice. It was quiet, small, but real.
"Yeah," Zhao Wei agreed. "Too many people pretending to be something they're not."
Xiao An's lips twitched, like he almost smiled.
They stood in silence for a while, the hum of the city below filling the gap.
---
When they finally returned to the ballroom, Zhao Wei noticed something he hadn't before. In the far corner, a man in a grey suit stood half in shadow, watching them.
The man's gaze was sharp, assessing — and it lingered too long before he turned away.
"Who's that?" Zhao Wei murmured to Gao Fang as they passed.
"Huang Min," the assistant replied. "Your main competitor in the recent port acquisition. He doesn't usually attend charity events."
Zhao Wei's gut tightened. If this was a game, then Huang Min was studying his opponent for weaknesses. And tonight, Zhao Wei had given him a front-row seat.
---
The ride home was quieter than before. Xiao An leaned against the window, eyes half-closed. Zhao Wei watched the boy's reflection, wondering what promises Li Shen had made to him — if any — and whether he could keep them.
He didn't know how long this strange, borrowed life would last. But one thing was already clear: if he wanted to survive it, he'd have to learn fast.
Not just how to be a CEO.
But how to be… a dad.