The place was upscale but not flashy—exposed brick, low lighting, the kind of establishment where business deals happened over espresso.
Lin Yuer spotted Shen Rui immediately.
Corner booth. Back to the wall. Clear view of all exits. Dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit that probably cost more than Lin Yuer's yearly living expenses.
He looked up as Lin Yuer approached, and his lips curved into a smile.
"Right on time. I like that."
Lin Yuer slid into the seat across from him, hyperaware of the enclosed space. In an open area, he could run. Here, he was boxed in.
Shen Rui noticed. "Relax. I'm not going to hurt you. If I wanted you dead, you'd already be dead."
"Comforting."
"I thought so." Shen Rui gestured to the menu. "Order something. On me."
"I'm fine."
"Lin Yuer." Shen Rui's voice was patient, like he was dealing with a skittish animal. "You're sixteen and clearly malnourished. Order. Food."
How does he—
