The hotel wasn't impressive.
At least, not on paper.
Chen Yuren walked the halls with one brow slightly raised, the thin metal frame of his glasses flashing under the warm corridor lights. His hair—still neatly parted, still infuriatingly tidy in that disciplined, Sunday-morning kind of way—shifted slightly as he looked around. He carried himself like someone who didn't need to announce money. The dark wool coat, the pressed charcoal slacks, the quiet confidence in his stride—understated, clean, expensive without effort.
He took in the polished wood paneling, the floral arrangements that tried too hard to impress, the gleam of effort where legacy should have existed. This was not the kind of place the Xu heir would waste time—or money—on.
"You could've bought another skyscraper," he remarked, glancing at Tao beside him. "Or, I don't know, a coastal resort in Hainan. Why this?"
"Sentimental reasons," Tao said, hands in his pockets.
Yuren stopped. His glasses slid slightly down the bridge of his nose as he looked at him. "Sentimental?"
Tao didn't answer immediately. His eyes scanned the lobby like he saw something no one else could. Or someone.
"No one knows who I am here," he said finally. "And no one asks questions."
Yuren gave him a look. "You say that like it's a virtue."
Tao smiled faintly. "For once, it is."
They moved into the private dining room on the executive lfloor, reserved for high-ranking guests and quiet deals. The table was already set. A chilled bottle of Cloudy Bay Sauvignon Blanc waited in a silver cradle. Tao pulled out a chair, gesturing lazily.
"The food's not terrible," he said. "Eat fast. I have a meeting later."
Yuren rolled his eyes but sat. "You've changed," he said, not entirely joking. "Ten years ago, you would've laughed at a place like this."
Tao's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Ten years ago, I still believed people stayed when you asked them to."
Yuren was about to ask what the hell that meant—when the door opened.
She walked in holding a silver tray.
Her dark brown hair was pulled back in a low, clean twist. Her expression neutral. Her posture careful, polite, maybe too polite. The dark blue uniform was simple, tailored—not flattering, but neat.
Wen Yinlin.
Yuren froze.
Time collapsed for a moment.
He looked at Tao.
Tao didn't look surprised. He didn't even blink.
"She'll be serving us," he said simply.
Yinlin placed the appetizer plates down—crab salad with honey-tangerine vinaigrette—and murmured, "Excuse me," before turning to pour the wine with stead hands.
Yuren watched her, stunned. The curve of her cheek, the quiet grace in her hands, the way she stood too still—like she didn't trust her own skin. But there was no mistake this was the same woman who had broken the heart of his best friend years ago.
"How—" he started.
Tao tilted his wine glass. "Fate. Or cruelty."
"Does she remember?" Yuren asked under his breath as she turned away to pick up the rest of the menu.
"No." Tao said nonchalantly, sipping his wine. "Something happened to her."
Yuren's brow furrowed. "And you're just… watching her? Letting her serve you like this?"
Tao looked directly at him, and in that moment, the businessman facade cracked ever so slightly.
"I'm waiting," he said quietly, flicking a glance to Yinlin's profile. "I want her to come back to me willingly."
Yuren's expression shifted—tension bleeding in under his usual calm. "This isn't healthy, Tao."
Tao didn't answer. Just watched as Yinlin set down the main course—grilled sea bass with black garlic sauce—and stepped back, hands folded at her apron.
When she looked up to offer the wine, her eyes brushed past Yuren's… and landed briefly on Tao.
There was no recognition.
But there was a pause. An unsettling kind of pause. As if her body remembered the displeasure between them, even if her mind refused.
"If there's nothing else, I'll be taking my leave. Enjoy your lunch, sir." Then she stepped away again, head lowered.
Yuren leaned in slightly. "You're building your world around a ghost. Again."
Tao's lips curved. "No," he murmured. "This time, I'm building it where she can't leave."
Yuren stared at him.
And for the first time in years, he felt the prickling dread of something inevitable.
***********
After lunch, Chen Yuren lingered in the private corridor just outside the dining room, arms crossed, watching Tao with a grim expression. Yinlin had already left—silent, efficient, unaware she'd just served the man who once stayed up nights nursing Xu Tao through heartbreak.
Tao adjusted his cufflinks, calm as ever. "You disapprove."
Yuren scoffed. "I disapprove of many things. But what you're doing?" He stepped closer. "That's not just reckless. That's dangerous. For both of you."
Tao raised a brow. "She's here, Yuren. Of all the places, she ended up in my hotel. That's not coincidence."
"It's not fate either. It's your obsession warping the world into something that fits your story."
Tao's jaw flexed at the unsettling jab.
"I know what she meant to you," Yuren continued, quieter now. "I saw what was left of you when she disappeared. I patched up your messes. I was there when you stopped eating. When you stopped sleeping. When your mother thought you were cursed."
"I'm fine now," Tao said calmly.
"No," Yuren said. "You're functioning. Not the same thing."
Silence stretched.
"You can't trap her," Yuren said. "And you sure as hell can't earn her back like this."
"I'm not forcing her," Tao replied. "I'm giving her space to remember. To choose."
"She's working under your name, Tao. That's not space. That's control with soft edges."
Tao looked away, the slightest flicker of something dark in his eyes.
Yuren sighed, stepped back, and turned to leave.
At the exit, he found Zhengqiang standing politely near the staff staircase, tablet in hand.
"Assistant Zheng," Yuren said smoothly. "If your boss ever starts acting insane—" he paused, "well, more insane than usual—give me a call."
Zhengqiang didn't react. "Understood, Mr. Chen."
"I'm serious," Yuren said, adjusting his glasses. "If he tries to kidnap her or put a leash on her finances or starts reciting poetry, call me."
Zhengqiang gave the smallest of nods. "I've already prepared a protocol."
Yuren stared at him. "Jesus. So it's that bad already."
He left with a bitter laugh, one hand stuffed in his coat pocket, the other dialing into his next meeting.
Behind him, Zhengqiang returned to his post without a word.
Inside the dining room, Xu Tao sat alone.
A folded napkin. An untouched glass of wine.
And on his phone screen, a high school photo — Yinlin, laughing in mid-turn, unaware the boy next to her had already decided she was his entire life. He then reached for his phone and dialed her number. It was answered on the second ring.
"Yes?" Answered her curtly.
"I've told you to answer me before the second ring, Yinlin." Said him.
He heard the tiny gasp of disbelief at the other end.
"I'm working. What do you want, sir?"
"Tonight, I'll pick you up. I'll send you something nice to wear." Said him, calmly as he fiddled the piece of clover keychain. "Don't forget our agreement."