Lin Yue's party invitation came with exactly zero details and one cryptic message: *Wear something nice but not trying-too-hard. Trust me on this.*
Gene stood in front of his closet Friday evening, staring at his options like they were a puzzle he couldn't solve. Monica had left him with three suits and extremely specific instructions about when to wear each one. This felt like a "charcoal suit, no tie" situation, but he texted Lin Yue to confirm.
Her response: *Yes. And actually do something with your hair. You look like you've been sleeping in a wind tunnel.*
Fair.
The party was in Xinyi, at one of those apartments Gene had only seen in magazines. The kind where the elevator opened directly into the unit instead of a hallway. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the entire city. Art on the walls that was definitely not from IKEA.
Lin Yue answered the door in a black dress that probably cost more than his monthly rent, holding a champagne flute and looking like she owned the world.
"You came!" She air-kissed both his cheeks in that way rich people did. "And you actually did something with your hair. Miracles do happen."
"Who else is here?"
"Everyone." She pulled him inside. "Business people, some artists, a couple of diplomats, that actress from the drama everyone's obsessed with, and—oh, this is fun—Steven's here with someone."
Gene's stomach did something weird. "Someone?"
"A date. First one I've seen him bring to anything in like, a year." Lin Yue's eyes were sparkling with gossip. "She's a venture partner at some Singapore fund. Very smart. Very pretty. Very much Steven's type, which is basically 'can discuss market trends over dinner.'"
"Good for him."
"You sound weird. Are you weird about this?"
"No. Why would I be weird?"
"I don't know, you just got this look—never mind. Come on, I want you to meet some people."
The apartment was packed but not crowded—that perfect rich-person party density where everyone had space but the energy still felt alive. Gene recognized a few faces from previous gatherings. Mr. Chen was holding court in one corner, talking to three people who were hanging on his every word. Vivian Wu was near the windows, laughing at something.
And there was Steven, standing by the bar, talking to a woman who was—yeah, okay, she was objectively gorgeous. Mid-thirties, sleek black hair, wearing a deep green dress that looked painted on. She was laughing at something Steven said, her hand resting lightly on his arm.
Gene felt something uncomfortable twist in his chest and immediately shoved it down. That was stupid. He didn't care who Steven dated. They were business partners, not—whatever else. It didn't matter.
"Gene!" Mei appeared out of nowhere, wearing a flowy dress covered in paint splatters that somehow looked intentional. "You made it! Did you see Steven brought a date?"
"Lin Yue mentioned it."
"Her name's Diana. She's actually really nice, which is annoying because I was prepared to hate her." Mei handed him a drink. "Come on, you look like you need alcohol and I need someone to talk to who isn't asking me when I'm going back to 'real work.'"
They found a spot by the windows, away from the main clusters. Taipei glittered below them like scattered diamonds.
"Your friends throw ridiculous parties," Gene said.
"Lin Yue's parties are legendary. Last year she rented out an entire museum for her birthday." Mei sipped her wine. "How's work going? Steven working you to death yet?"
"Getting close. I think I've forgotten what weekends feel like."
"Mm. That sounds familiar." Mei's expression went distant for a second. "Be careful with that. It sneaks up on you—one day you're working hard because you care, the next day you're working hard because you've forgotten how to stop."
Before Gene could respond, Steven appeared beside them.
"Mei. Gene." He looked relaxed, which was rare. Maybe the drink in his hand was doing its job. "Diana wants to meet you both. She's heard about the pottery studio."
Diana joined them a moment later, extending her hand to Mei first. "I love your work. Steven showed me photos—the blue series especially. The glazing technique is incredible."
Mei lit up. "You actually looked at my work?"
"Of course. I studied ceramics in college before I got seduced by finance." Diana's smile was warm, genuine. "Sometimes I think about going back to it, but then I remember I'm terrible at it and just buy other people's art instead."
They fell into easy conversation—Diana asking intelligent questions about Mei's process, Mei responding with the kind of passion she always had when talking about clay. Steven stood slightly back, watching them interact with something that looked almost like relief.
"Gene," Diana said, turning to him. "Steven says you're from California originally. What brought you to Taipei?"
"I was bored and made questionable life choices."
She laughed—real, not polite. "Best reason I've heard. I came to Singapore for similar reasons six years ago. My parents thought I was insane."
"Mine still think I'm insane."
"Well, clearly we're both doing something right." Diana glanced at Steven. "He speaks very highly of you. Says you caught things in the David Koh analysis that he missed."
"I got lucky."
"He doesn't believe in luck. Trust me, if he says you're good, you're good." Diana excused herself to greet someone she knew, leaving the three of them standing together.
"She's great," Mei said immediately. "I wanted to hate her but she's actually great."
"Why would you hate her?" Steven asked, amused.
"Because it would be easier. But no, she's smart and nice and likes art. It's very inconvenient." Mei drained her wine. "I'm getting another drink. You two behave."
Once she was gone, Steven turned to Gene. "You okay? You've been quiet."
"Yeah, just tired. Long week."
"Tell me about it." Steven loosened his collar slightly. "Diana flew in this morning just for tonight. Flying back tomorrow."
"That's a lot of travel for one party."
"She wanted to meet everyone. Said she was tired of just hearing about my Taipei friends." Steven's expression shifted into something Gene couldn't read. "It's new. We're figuring it out."
"Good. That's good."
Steven studied him for a moment, like he was trying to solve a puzzle. "You sure you're okay?"
"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"
"I don't know. You got weird when Mei mentioned I brought someone."
"I didn't get weird."
"You absolutely got weird."
"I'm not weird, I'm tired. There's a difference."
Steven opened his mouth like he was going to push it, then decided against it. "Okay. Well, if you want to leave early, no one will notice. These things go late anyway."
"I'm fine. Go talk to Diana. I'll survive."
Steven hesitated another second, then nodded and headed back toward where Diana was chatting with Lin Yue and two other people.
Gene stood by the windows, watching Taipei pulse with light and life, and tried to figure out why his chest felt tight.
This was stupid. Steven was his boss, his mentor, his business partner. Nothing more. The fact that he was weirdly charismatic and occasionally funny and had this intensity that made Gene feel like he was part of something bigger—that didn't mean anything. That was just what good leaders did. They made you feel seen.
"You're thinking too loud."
Gene turned. Mei was back, holding two glasses of wine. She handed him one.
"I'm not thinking anything."
"You're terrible at lying. Has anyone ever told you that?" Mei leaned against the window beside him. "Want some advice?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"Not really." She took a sip of her wine. "Whatever you're feeling right now? It's okay to feel it. You don't have to figure it out or fix it or make it make sense. Just… acknowledge it exists."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Sure you don't." Mei's smile was kind, knowing. "Just promise me you'll be honest with yourself, even if you can't be honest with anyone else yet. Deal?"
Gene didn't answer. Couldn't answer. Because putting words to whatever was happening in his head felt dangerous, like naming something gave it power it shouldn't have.
So instead he just drank his wine and watched Steven laugh at something Diana said, and tried very hard not to think about why that bothered him.
The party went until 2 AM. By the time Gene finally got home, his head was spinning from alcohol and thoughts he didn't want to examine too closely.
He fell into bed still wearing his dress shirt, too exhausted to care, and dreamed about spreadsheets and green dresses and Steven's voice asking if he was okay, over and over and over.