Gu Wangshu woke up very early the next morning.
The curtains weren’t fully drawn, and a sliver of morning light squeezed through the gap, falling onto the carpet at the foot of the bed like a thin strip of gold foil.
She lay still for a moment, mentally reviewing the day’s schedule.
She was returning to Hong Kong today. Before that, she still had to pack, check out, and call Deputy General Manager Wu to discuss matters regarding the villa. Time wasn’t too tight, but it wasn’t exactly leisurely either.
She hadn’t arranged to have breakfast with Zhang Ziyu. Last night, they had chatted until almost eleven before Zhang Ziyu, yawning, returned to her own room, muttering as she left, “Tomorrow I’m sleeping in until I wake up naturally—don’t anyone dare call me.”
Gu Wangshu knew her friend’s habits; trying to wake her at this hour would be akin to murder.
After washing up, Gu Wangshu changed into a light gray silk blouse paired with a white knee-length skirt. Her hair was loosely tied into a low bun, revealing a slender neck.
She glanced at herself in the mirror; her complexion still looked somewhat pale.
The South Sea Hotel’s buffet breakfast was set up in the banquet hall on the second floor—a spacious area with deep red carpets. The window seats offered a view of the garden below.
The breakfast primarily featured Cantonese dim sum. A long buffet table displayed dozens of delicacies: shrimp dumplings, siu mai, rice noodle rolls, char siu bao, chicken feet, and sticky rice wrapped in lotus leaves, all neatly arranged in bamboo steamers, with wisps of steam rising from the gaps.
Next to it was a Western section, complete with fried eggs, bacon, toast, croissants, juice, and coffee—everything one could want.
In Shenzhen, places offering a buffet breakfast of this caliber were few and far between, and the South Sea Hotel was one of them.
At this hour, there weren’t many diners. A few tables of businesspeople in suits and ties conversed in low voices, while a foreign couple in the corner read an English newspaper. Waitstaff in crisp white uniforms moved between the buffet tables.
Gu Wangshu found a seat by the window, took a bowl of plain congee, and picked up a few shrimp dumplings.
After finishing most of the congee and three shrimp dumplings, she felt she’d had enough and got up to get something from the fruit section.
The fruit table held sliced watermelon and papaya, as well as whole lychees and longans—all seasonal fruits from the south.
Just as she picked up the communal tongs and placed two pieces of papaya onto her plate, a familiar, unmistakably excited voice came from behind her.
“Miss Gu! What a coincidence, we meet again!”
Gu Wangshu turned around.
Zhong Jinghe stood about two steps behind her, holding a plate piled high with fried eggs, bacon, char siu bao, a large croissant, and a glass of orange juice precariously wedged between his fingers, threatening to topple.
He was wearing a white short-sleeved shirt today. His hair, likely washed and not yet dried, had a few strands sticking up at the back. He looked full of energy, like a large dog that had just woken up, its tail practically wagging with enthusiasm.
Gu Wangshu nodded. “It is quite a coincidence.”
She had deliberately woken up early to avoid overlapping schedules, never expecting Zhong Jinghe to be an early riser too.
Zhong Jinghe took a few steps to her side and glanced at her plate. “Just a bit of fruit? Miss Gu, you eat so little for breakfast, no wonder you’re so thin. Would you like some char siu bao? This hotel’s char siu bao is especially good—I just tried one. The filling is generous, and there’s a honey glaze—”
“Thank you, I’ve already eaten.” Gu Wangshu interrupted his enthusiastic sales pitch.
Zhong Jinghe gave an awkward smile and changed the subject: “Do you have any plans today, Miss Gu? I was thinking of going to Huaqiangbei to look around. I heard electronic products there are particularly cheap, and I wanted to see if there are any new video recorders—”
“I’m returning to Hong Kong today.”
“Returning to Hong Kong?” Zhong Jinghe was momentarily stunned, then realized, “So Miss Gu is from Hong Kong. But your Mandarin is truly standard.”
Gu Wangshu offered no explanation.
Zhong Jinghe sighed, his regret evident: “Ah, what a shame. My documents aren’t ready yet, otherwise I could have gone to Hong Kong with Third Uncle for a trip.”
Gu Wangshu’s hand, holding a piece of papaya, paused slightly.
“Going to Hong Kong for a trip?”
“Yes,” Zhong Jinghe completely missed her unusual reaction, “My third uncle is going to Hong Kong. Unfortunately, my paperwork isn’t sorted, so I can only stay in Shenzhen.”
Gu Wangshu lowered her gaze.
Zhong Jiming was going to Hong Kong.
What was Zhong Jiming going to Hong Kong for?
She quickly raised her eyes again, her expression flawless, even carrying a touch of appropriate smile.
“If Mr. Zhong ever visits Hong Kong in the future, I will certainly fulfill my duties as a host.”
Zhong Jinghe’s eyes instantly lit up.
“Really? Then it’s settled!”
“Alright.” Gu Wangshu agreed simply.
Her gaze passed over Zhong Jinghe’s shoulder, discreetly sweeping toward the depths of the restaurant.
In the main course area not far away, the backs of two men stood side by side.
One was tall and broad-shouldered, wearing a dark suit. Even from behind, he exuded a natural, commanding presence—it was Zhong Jiming.
He was slightly tilting his head, as if listening to the person beside him.
The other was slightly shorter, holding a coffee cup—likely Bai Qingyuan.
Separated by several rows of tables and passing waitstaff, Zhong Jiming had his back to this direction and did not turn around.
Gu Wangshu withdrew her gaze.
She glanced down at the papaya on her plate, then unhurriedly returned the fruit to the buffet counter, placing the plate back in its original spot as well.
Her movements were natural and fluid, without any trace of panic.
“Mr. Zhong,” she turned to Zhong Jinghe, her tone composed, “I’ve finished breakfast and am in a hurry to check out. We’ll meet again next time.”
Though disappointed, Zhong Jinghe couldn’t very well stop her, so he simply waved: “See you next time, Miss Gu!”
Gu Wangshu gave a slight nod, turned, and walked toward the restaurant exit.
Her pace was neither fast nor slow, her back straight, the white hem of her skirt swaying gently with each step.
Almost the moment Gu Wangshu turned away, Zhong Jiming in the main course area also turned around.
He had originally intended to return to his seat. Bai Qingyuan had said, “The fried rice is good, you should try some,” so he had taken a small portion of Yangzhou fried rice and was carrying the plate back.
Then he saw his nephew.
Zhong Jinghe stood beside the fruit counter, holding that nearly overflowing plate, his mouth slightly agape, his gaze fixed straight ahead in a certain direction. The expression on his face could be described as “soul flying beyond the heavens” without exaggeration.
Zhong Jiming followed his line of sight.
A young woman’s back was walking unhurriedly toward the restaurant exit.
A pale gray shirt, a white skirt, her hair tied into a low bun, revealing a slender nape.
Zhong Jiming’s breath caught for a moment.
That way of walking, that unhurried, deliberate pace as if the whole world should wait for her—
He didn’t even have time to put down the plate in his hand before his feet moved ahead of his consciousness.
“Wangshu!”
When the sound rushed out of his throat, he himself was startled.
In a public place like a restaurant, he never lost his composure, much less called out to someone’s back. But those two words seemed to bypass all his reason and self-control, surging up from somewhere deeper.
“Wangshu!”
He called out a second time.
The figure ahead hesitated.
Her steps slowed.
Then, she stopped.