On Sunday at noon, Xia Ran was woken by her alarm clock with a splitting headache.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. It was her aunt, Liu Xiufang.
“Don’t forget the blind date at 2 PM. The western restaurant on the fourth floor of Chaoyang Joy City. The man’s surname is Chen, and he works as a client manager at a bank. Make yourself presentable—don’t dress like you’re going to the office.”
Xia Ran stared at the ceiling for three seconds and replied with a single word: “Okay.”
It was just a blind date. She applied a layer of foundation in front of the mirror, covering most of her dark circles, then pulled a decent dress from her wardrobe. It wasn’t her style, but it looked gentle and proper—perfect for a blind date.
At 2 PM, fourth floor of Chaoyang Joy City, the western restaurant. By the time Xia Ran arrived, the man was already there, seated by the window and waving at her. His surname was Chen—Chen Rui, thirty-two years old, a client manager at a joint-stock bank. He had a decent face, a slightly receding hairline that wasn’t too severe, and a row of neat teeth when he smiled.
“Miss Xia, right? Please, have a seat.” Chen Rui was enthusiastic, pulling out the chair for her and pushing the menu in front of her. “Order whatever you like—my treat.”
“Thank you.” Xia Ran took the menu, flipped through a couple of pages, and ordered the cheapest pasta.
During the wait for the food, Chen Rui kept talking. He went from the macroeconomic situation to the digital transformation of the banking industry, from his work achievements to the apartment he’d bought in Tongzhou last year. Xia Ran nodded and responded from time to time, occasionally asking a question to show she was listening. She’d developed a standard routine through the dozen or so blind dates her aunt had arranged—smile, nod, ask timely questions, never check her phone. That way, when the man reported back to the matchmaker, at least he wouldn’t say she was “unenthusiastic.”
When the pasta arrived, Chen Rui’s topic finally shifted from work to life.
“What do you like to do in your spare time, Miss Xia?”
“Visit exhibitions, do some drawing.” Xia Ran twirled a strand of pasta on her fork. “Work keeps me busy, so I don’t have much free time.”
“A designer, I get it. I have a client who’s also in design—works late into the night every day.” Chen Rui took a sip of his drink and changed tack. “But you know, for a woman, after marriage, it’s better to prioritize the family. My parents also think it’s best if the wife stays home full-time after getting married. Raising kids, taking care of the elderly—someone has to do those things.”
Xia Ran’s fork paused mid-air. She looked up at the man across from her, searching his face for any trace of a joke. There was none. He was completely serious.
“Mr. Chen,” she set down her fork and wiped the corner of her mouth, “in my plans for the future, quitting my job isn’t on the table for now.”
Chen Rui froze, clearly not expecting to be directly contradicted. He quickly adjusted his expression and waved his hand. “No problem, no problem. We can talk about that later. Let’s eat first.”
The atmosphere turned awkward. Neither of them spoke. Soft jazz played in the restaurant, surrounded by the murmur of diners and the gentle clink of cutlery against porcelain.
Just then,
Several men in suits walked over from the direction of the elevator. The one in front was tall, wearing a dark gray suit without a tie, his shirt collar unbuttoned one button. His steps were steady, and his presence was so commanding that the people around instinctively lowered their voices.
Fu Sinian.
Xia Ran’s water glass nearly slipped from her hand. What was he doing here?
Fu Sinian didn’t look at her. He led his group to a seat against the wall diagonally across from her. The waiter eagerly handed him a menu, and he flipped through a couple of pages casually, then said something in a low voice to Zhou Shixu beside him. He never once glanced sideways, as if he hadn’t noticed her and her blind date sitting in the corner at all.
Coincidence. It had to be a coincidence. This restaurant was in Chaoyang Joy City, not far from Fu Corporation’s headquarters. It was perfectly normal for him to have lunch here on a Sunday. She took a deep breath, averted her gaze, and picked up her fork again. Chen Rui across from her was still talking, but she didn’t hear a single word.
At the table diagonally across, Zhou Shixu opened his menu to cover his face and lowered his voice. “Lord Fu, are you sure you came here to eat?”
“What else would it be?”
“You’ve glanced toward the nine o’clock direction three times since we sat down.” Zhou Shixu closed his menu. “So that’s her blind date today? Looks pretty average to me—his hairline’s practically at the top of his head.”
“I wasn’t looking.”
“Fine, you weren’t looking.” Zhou Shixu called the waiter over and ordered a steak. Once the waiter left, he leaned in again. “But seriously, you had me dig up the time and place of her blind date late last night, and then today at noon you suddenly organized a meal at this place—Lord Fu, did you just happen to be hungry?”
Fu Sinian took a sip of water and said nothing.
“Why don’t you go say hello?” Zhou Shixu suggested.
“No.”
“Really not? That guy seems to be saying something to her—she doesn’t look happy.”
Fu Sinian’s fingers tightened around his water glass.
At the table by the window, Chen Rui set down his knife and fork, wiped his mouth with his napkin, and put on his standard professional smile again.
“Miss Xia, to be honest, I’m quite satisfied with you. You’re pretty, you have a decent job, and you’d present well in public.” He paused.
Xia Ran gave a polite twitch of her lips but didn’t respond. This was the experience she’d gained from over a dozen blind dates—when the other party started with “to be honest,” what followed was usually something impossible to respond to.
Sure enough.
“However, I’ve heard a few things and wanted to confirm them with you.” Chen Rui interlaced his fingers on the table and leaned forward slightly, as if negotiating an important business deal. “Your parents are gone, right? The matchmaker said you’re currently living at your uncle’s place—that old neighborhood in Fengtai? The house is your uncle’s, not yours?”
Xia Ran’s fingers around her water glass tightened by a fraction. But her expression didn’t change, and her tone remained calm: “Yes. I’m currently staying at my uncle’s place.”
“Staying—so you don’t own property. What about your salary? You’re in design—how much do you take home per month? Ten thousand?” Chen Rui paused, as if doing mental math. “If it’s just over ten thousand, that’s not exactly comfortable in the capital. But that’s fine—here’s what I’m thinking: if we get married, your salary can go toward household expenses, and we’ll use my place in Tongzhou for housing. I won’t add your name to the property deed, since my parents covered the down payment. You can understand that, right?”
Xia Ran picked up her glass and took a sip. The water was lukewarm, carrying a slight astringency as it slid down her throat.
She set the glass down and spoke, her voice flat: “Mr. Chen, what do you think marriage is?”
Chen Rui blinked. “What?”
“Is it incorporating a company? You contribute the house, I contribute my salary, and then we cohabitate, each keeping our own accounts.”
“Miss Xia, that’s not what I meant—” Chen Rui quickly waved his hands, a look of wounded offense surfacing on his face. “I just think it’s better to clarify things in advance, to avoid misunderstandings later. After all, this is a lifelong matter—being rational can’t hurt. Don’t you think?”
Xia Ran looked at his sincere, professional smile and suddenly found the whole thing absurdly amusing.
He said “that’s not what I meant.” But every word he’d said was exactly what he meant.
She suddenly didn’t want to keep up the polite facade anymore.
“Mr. Chen,” she picked up her napkin from her lap, folded it, and placed it on the table. “I understand your conditions. Let me state mine as well—I don’t have a house, I don’t have parents, and my salary isn’t high. But I have hands and feet, I can support myself, and I don’t plan to improve my life through marriage. Even less do I intend to become an amortized liability on someone else’s ledger.”
Chen Rui’s smile froze on his face. He probably hadn’t expected this seemingly gentle, agreeable woman to suddenly turn on him. His lips moved, as if trying to say something to salvage the situation, but Xia Ran was already standing.
“I’ll cover this meal. I wish you luck in finding someone who meets your return-on-investment criteria.”
She grabbed her bag and turned toward the cashier. Her high heels struck the marble floor—each step steady, each step without looking back.
Behind her came Chen Rui’s lowered voice: “She’s crazy, isn’t she? No wonder she’s still unmarried at her age…”
Her steps faltered for a moment.
Just a moment. Then she kept walking, pulled two bills from her wallet, placed them on the counter, and pushed open the restaurant’s glass door.
After stepping outside, she didn’t go back to her rental. She went to Wen Yu’s studio instead, curling up on that old sofa surrounded by photography equipment for the entire evening. Wen Yu asked what she wanted to eat; she said anything. Wen Yu ordered takeout, and she put down her chopsticks after two bites.
“What’s wrong with you today? You’re spaced out.” Wen Yu chewed on her chopsticks, watching her.
She told her about the blind date. About what Chen Rui had said, about how she’d stood up and paid and left, about how her aunt-in-law had later texted to scold her for not knowing what was good for her.
Wen Yu hadn’t known any of this, so she just indignantly cursed out that weird guy, then cursed out her aunt-in-law, then fished two cans of beer from the fridge and kept her company until dark.
At nine-something, she walked downstairs.
Under the dim yellow streetlamp at the entrance to the building, a black Maybach was parked.
A dark gray shirt billowed slightly in the night breeze, sleeves casually rolled to the forearms. He leaned against the car and turned his head. The streetlamp light cut across his face from the side, carving his features into sharp relief—brow bone, nose bridge, jawline—every line harder and colder than five years ago.
“What are you doing here.” Xia Ran spoke first, her voice steadier than she’d expected.
“How was the blind date.” He spoke, his tone light, as if asking about something that had nothing to do with him.
“Since when is President Fu so interested in my personal life?”
“Happened to be passing by tonight. Thought I’d ask.”
“Passing by.” Xia Ran repeated the word. Chaoyang Joy City was in the west, Fu Corporation headquarters was on the East Third Ring, and her rental was in Fengtai. No matter how small the capital was, a person didn’t just “happen to pass by” three times in one day. She didn’t call him out on it, just switched her milk tea to the other hand. “How do you know I live here.”
“It was Shen Che who investigated.”
“If you have something to say, just say it.” Her voice carried a hint of weariness—the kind that comes from holding it together all day and finally being unable to. “After this, I’m going upstairs to sleep. I still have work tomorrow.”
Fu Sinian didn’t argue. He leaned against the car door, right hand in his trouser pocket, wearing the expression she knew best—cold, composed, as if everything was under control.
“That Chen guy isn’t right for you.”
“Thank you for the reminder, President Fu.” She turned to leave.
Fu Sinian quickly stepped in front of her, his dark eyes fixed intently on her, his voice icy: “Xia Ran, have you ever regretted it?”
Xia Ran knew what he was asking.
She didn’t dare look at him.
She lowered her gaze, her lashes trembling slightly: “There’s no point in discussing this now.”
Fu Sinian grabbed her wrist, refusing to let her go. “Answer me.”
Xia Ran said softly, “No.”
Fu Sinian’s expression instantly turned cold: “Fine, very well…”
He released her hand, turned, and got into the car, driving away without a moment’s pause.
…