Before they reached the elevator, her phone rang.
She didn't need to check who it was. She already knew.
"Hello?"
"Yueru!" came the cheerful, booming voice of Director Hu Zheng. "Tell me you're not sneaking off."
"I'm not," she said with a sigh. "I'm almost at the garden."
"That's my girl! I knew you couldn't resist good wine and bad jokes. Hurry up, or I'll send a search party."
She smiled faintly. "No need. I'm walking in now."
"I'm waving already. Don't make me look silly."
She hung up with a tired chuckle. "He's impossible," she muttered to herself.
Xinyu grinned. "That bad, huh?"
"He's the reason I'm not asleep right now."
They stepped into the garden through the wide patio doors.
The soft lighting, warm air, and scattered clusters of guests made the space look pleasant, almost serene.
She had come here thinking she might just sip some tea quietly and disappear after a round or two of greetings.
But as soon as she stepped onto the stone patio, her peace vanished.
"Yueru!" Grandpa Hu's voice thundered across the lawn like a festival announcer.
She winced slightly. A few people turned to look.
He was standing near a table, waving both hands like he was guiding traffic, his blazer loose and his tie far too bright. His grin was as wide and chaotic as ever.
"There she is!" he called out as he moved toward her with open arms. "Everyone, our treaty-slayer is here."
And just like that, she was dragged into the crowd.
The parade began.
She shook hands, smiled, answered questions, and clinked glasses. She'd meant to find tea. In fact, tea had been her sole motivation to come.
But by the time she made it halfway through the third conversation about regional stability, her hand was holding a glass of wine instead.
She wasn't sure when she switched. It just happened.
Maybe the wine made it easier to keep pace. Maybe it was just an excuse to survive the chatter.
Either way, she wasn't drunk, but she was definitely more relaxed than she should have been.
Every time she tried to retreat to the edge of the party, Grandpa Hu pulled her right back in.
"Yueru, meet Deputy Minister Luo."
"Have you seen Madam Qian yet?"
"Don't sneak off. I've got eyes."
Time blurred. Her feet hurt, her smile was beginning to lock in place, and the wine kept refilling itself.
Eventually, she managed to sink into a chair near the garden wall and let herself breathe.
Her glass was nearly empty now. She stared into it, swirling the last sip like it might answer her prayers.
Her eyelids drifted shut.
"Ah! Yueru!"
She opened her eyes slowly.
Not again.
"There you are!" Grandpa Hu's voice rang out once more. "Come on. One last introduction. Old college friend of mine. Very boring. I need you to save me."
Too tired to argue, she stood and followed him.
She wasn't paying attention anymore. Her body moved, but her mind was already slipping into sleep.
She nodded vaguely at whatever Grandpa Hu said as they walked. The faces blurred, the sounds melted.
She barely registered the older man standing ahead.
"This is Lin Guangcheng," Grandpa Hu said with a proud smile. "My roommate in college. Military man. Still refuses to slow down."
The man gave a tired laugh. "And you still talk too much."
"She's young. Let her call you Grandpa Liang. It'll help you accept your age," Grandpa Hu said.
"Only if she calls you Grandpa Hu too."
"She already does," Hu beamed.
Grandpa Lin looked at her kindly. "Then I'll take it as a compliment. It's a pleasure."
Yueru gave a soft smile. "Pleasure's mine, Grandpa Lin."
"And this," Hu added as he stepped slightly aside, "is his grandson."
She turned.
And froze.
Standing just behind Grandpa Lin was a man in a dark military uniform. Tall, composed, unmoving.
His face was clean and unreadable. His eyes met hers only for a moment. Just a second.
But it was enough.
Her stomach dropped. Her breath faltered.
Lin Zhihao.
She hadn't said that name aloud in years.
And now, he was standing right in front of her.
She tried to hold her composure when she saw Lin Zhihao extend his hand for a handshake.
For a moment, she just stared at it.
Her body refused to move. Her mind had gone blank.
But considering where they were, and the many eyes that might be watching, she forced her hand forward and shook his.
The moment their palms touched, she felt it.
A charge. Subtle but sharp, like the brief static before a storm. Goosebumps raced up her arm.
The air around her felt thinner, as if something had shifted that only she could sense.
Then she felt it. A scratch.
"Uhh" she thought to herself. It was just a faint scrape along her palm.
Her eyes widened slightly. She looked up at him.
His face revealed nothing. No twitch, no flicker of emotion. That same calm, unreadable expression held firm.
Maybe it was all in her head.
Maybe she was more drunk than she realized.
She pulled her hand back quickly and let it drop to her side.
Her heart was pounding now, a rapid, thudding rhythm she could hear in her ears.
The dizziness followed. It swept up from her legs, hollowing them out.