The soft hum of jazz filled the ambient space of the art gallery, tucked away in a quiet district of Country C. It wasn't loud or extravagant—just tasteful enough to draw in the right people. Lu Jingyan stood near one of the minimalist installations, speaking to a gallery curator about the symbolism behind a monochrome sculpture. Dressed in an ivory silk blouse and charcoal skirt, she looked serene yet untouchable.
But Leng Xuanmo saw through it.
He watched her from the corner, her every gesture graceful, her smile polite but distant. Mei Xiaotong's voice echoed in his head from their conversation earlier that afternoon.
*"She hates grand gestures,"* Mei had said between sips of iced tea. *"You humiliated her enough in public. Now if you want to win her back, you go slow. Thoughtful. Subtle."*
Leng Xuanmo had barely touched his coffee.
*"You said she likes control. Give it back to her."*
Now, standing with a glass of champagne he hadn't tasted, he approached slowly. No fanfare. No hovering entourage. Just him.
Lu Jingyan's back stiffened slightly before she turned. "Leng Xuanmo."
He offered a short nod, his expression carefully neutral. "Miss Lu."
She raised a brow at the formality.
"I didn't know you were interested in contemporary art," she said, turning back to the sculpture.
"I'm not," he replied honestly. "But Mei said you might be here."
At that, she glanced sideways, irritation flickering in her eyes. "You're using my friend now?"
"No," he said, calmly. "I asked her what you like. She told me the truth."
She looked away, her tone clipped. "You didn't need to come here."
"I know."
Silence stretched between them as they both pretended to admire the sculpture.
"She said you like quiet places," he said after a beat. "That you hate attention but love meanings. So… I thought I'd try a different approach."
Lu Jingyan crossed her arms. "Approach?"
Leng Xuanmo gave a slow nod. "Not for forgiveness. Not yet. Just understanding."
Her eyes narrowed. "And you think loitering around galleries gives you that?"
He didn't flinch. "I think if I want to know you—not the heiress, not the media target—but *you*, then I need to stop assuming I already do."
That made her pause.
"I'm not asking for anything," he continued, voice low but sincere. "Not now. I just want to start from the beginning. As someone who's ready to listen, not control."
Lu Jingyan tilted her head slightly, lips pursed. "You always had everything, didn't you?"
His jaw tightened, but he nodded. "Until I lost what mattered."
She exhaled softly, eyes scanning the room before settling on him. "You can't erase the past."
"I know," he said. "But I can prove I've learned from it."
She held his gaze, uncertain. Then, to his surprise, she spoke. "I don't like lilies. I hate white wine. And I prefer sculpture to paintings."
He blinked, something shifting in his chest.
"And I love silence," she added, "so don't ruin it."
He gave the faintest smile. "Duly noted."
And then she turned away, walking deeper into the gallery space, not waiting to see if he'd follow.
He didn't. He stood still, watching her figure blend into the crowd, heart pounding not from triumph—but from the smallest, rarest hint of hope.
Back at a corner table near the exit, Mei Xiaotong watched everything unfold with a knowing look as she stirred her tea.
From across the table, Hua Shu smirked. "Think he's got a chance?"
Mei Xiaotong didn't look up. "She gave him five facts about herself."
"That's a start?"
"She hasn't told anyone more than two." Mei Xiaotong said smiling