The sound of a man's voice broke through the calm of the morning.
"Lin Qing Yun! Come out!"
The shout echoed off the concrete walls of the narrow alleyway outside her apartment building. It was too early for this much noise—neighbors might open their windows, Auntie Zhao might shuffle down in her slippers, Si Yao might wake up. Qing Yun's heart lurched. She froze for one second, then rushed to the door, pulling it shut behind her as she stepped into the damp stairwell.
At the base of the stairs stood a man in a leather jacket, his eyes sharp, his mouth curled in a sneer.
"You're Lin Qing Yun?"
She straightened her shoulders, nodded. "Yes. Please lower your voice, there are children upstairs."
The man smirked. "Children? Hah. Then you'd better pay quickly, before they learn what kind of mother they have."
Her breath hitched. "My mother?"
He waved a crumpled slip of paper like it was proof carved in stone. "She borrowed money from us a few months ago. Fifty thousand yuan. And now she's vanished. So guess what? Her darling daughter gets the honor of paying instead."
Qing Yun's chest tightened. "That's impossible. I haven't seen her in five years. Whatever she owes, it's nothing to do with me."
The man stepped closer, lowering his voice but sharpening it like a knife. "Debt has everything to do with blood. If she doesn't pay, you do. Or we come back tomorrow with more men. Your neighbors will love the noise. Or maybe we'll ask your little sister directly."
Her blood turned cold. Si Yao.
She forced her voice steady. "How much?"
"Fifty thousand."
Her hand trembled as she pulled out her phone. Fifty thousand. That was Si Yao's tuition. The money she had been guarding like treasure, coin by coin, for years. The key that would open a door to the future.
The man tapped his foot impatiently. "Hurry up."
She bit her lip so hard she tasted iron. Then she clicked through her banking app, her thumb hovering over the transfer button. For one second, she hesitated. If I do this, Si Yao's dream—
She pressed send.
The app chimed: Transfer successful.
The man glanced at his phone, nodded with satisfaction. "Good daughter. Pity about the mother." He gave a mocking salute, then strode away, his voice echoing off the walls as he called out to someone waiting on a motorbike.
The stairwell fell silent.
Qing Yun leaned against the door, knees weak. Her breath came too fast, like she had been running though her feet had not moved. She clutched the phone in her hand, staring at the dwindled balance on the screen.
All of Si Yao's years of effort, of discipline, of hope—half gone in an instant.
She slid down the wall and pressed her face into her knees. For a moment, her chest felt too tight to breathe.
Then she forced herself up, wiped her eyes quickly, and stepped back into the apartment.
Inside, Si Yao was still curled in the quilt, hair messy, breathing even. Qing Yun tiptoed to her side, tucking the blanket up to her chin. Her hand lingered, smoothing her sister's hair once, twice.
You'll study abroad. You'll have the life you deserve. I'll find a way. I promise.
--
The Chinese New Year holiday ended, and the office buzzed back to life. Staff shuffled papers, screens glowed with numbers, and conversations about train tickets and holiday feasts echoed in the halls.
At her desk, Qing Yun opened a spreadsheet, but her eyes kept drifting to another tab. University fees. Airfare. Accommodation. The numbers blurred. She had done the math a dozen times. Without that fifty thousand, Si Yao's dream was collapsing.
She closed her eyes briefly, then clicked open another window. Job listings. Freelance gigs. Anything that could patch the hole.
"Qing Yun."
She blinked up. Shen Qiao was leaning against her desk, her usual elegance softened by a friendly smile. "Are you looking at job postings at work?"
Qing Yun laughed quickly, tucking the screen aside. "Just… curiosity."
"Curiosity looks a lot like desperation," Shen Qiao teased gently, then walked on, leaving behind the faint trace of expensive perfume.
Qing Yun forced a smile, then bent back over her desk. Her heart beat steady, but too hard.
--
Friday Evening
By the time the clock neared five, most employees were rushing out, excited chatter filling the lobby.
But Qing Yun didn't head to the noodle house. Instead, she slipped into the restroom with a small bag.
She pulled out a pale pastel dress—elegant but simple. She had saved it for years, wearing it only for special interviews. Her hair she let down, brushing it until it curved in soft waves. A touch of foundation, a little lip color. Enough to look polished. Enough to look respectable.
When she stepped back into the hallway, two female coworkers nearly dropped their tote bags.
"Qing Yun?!"
"You—you look like a different person!"
Qing Yun laughed softly. "Exaggerating again."
One of them circled her, eyes wide. "Our Qing Yun always wears aprons and uniforms. But tonight—eh? A date?"
The other one leaned closer, mock-whispering. "Or… boyfriend's parents?"
Qing Yun smiled faintly, not correcting them. The less she said, the easier.
They helped straighten her hair, adjusted the hem of her dress, added a dab of lip gloss from their purses. "There! Now you look like the heroine of a drama."
Qing Yun shook her head, laughing. "Thank you. Really." Warmth stirred in her chest—not for herself, but for the way people always seemed to care.
--
The Lobby
Chen Rui nearly choked on his coffee when she appeared in the lobby.
"Miss Lin?"
She paused, startled, then forced her voice brisk. "Mr. Chen."
His eyes flicked from her usual cardigan memory to the soft dress in front of him, from the faint blush on her lips to the heels that clicked lightly on the marble floor. "Where are you going? You look—uh—"
"Meeting my boyfriend's parents," she blurted, clutching her bag tighter.
"What?! Where?"
"At LD Hotel. Sorry, I'm in a rush."
Before he could respond, she slipped past him and out the door.
Through the glass, he saw a sleek black car pull up. The driver opened the door, and Qing Yun slid inside. The car pulled away smoothly, disappearing into the evening traffic.
Chen Rui stood frozen, then rubbed his eyes.
"Boyfriend? Parents?!"
--
Ze Yan's Office
Upstairs, Gu Ze Yan was calmly signing contracts, his pen strokes precise.
"Boss," Chen Rui burst in, nearly tripping over the carpet.
Ze Yan looked up, brows slightly raised. "What is it?"
Chen Rui swallowed. "I—I just saw Sunny downstairs."
Ze Yan's hand stilled. "And?"
"She… she was wearing a dress. Makeup. Very pretty. She said—she said she was going to LD Hotel. To meet her boyfriend's parents."
Silence.
The pen slipped slightly in Ze Yan's fingers. His expression didn't crack, but the temperature in the room seemed to shift.
Chen Rui shuffled nervously. "I thought maybe—well—I thought she meant you. But then… you're here, so…"
Ze Yan set the pen down slowly. His gaze dropped to the papers on his desk, but he wasn't seeing them. His heartbeat felt unfamiliar—tight, uneven.
Boyfriend. Parents.
His lips curved, but the smile was too thin. "I see."
He rose, smoothing his jacket with deliberate calm.
"Boss?" Chen Rui asked, bewildered.
Ze Yan glanced at him once, eyes steady but shadowed. "I'll finish this tomorrow."
Without another word, he walked out, his steps long, his posture composed.
But inside—his chest burned with a question he had never thought he'd ask:
Sunny… who are you really meeting?
Gu Ze Yan never liked being late to anything. Not to meetings, not to negotiations, not to opportunities.
And tonight—whatever awaited him at LD Hotel—he refused to be late.