Lily stood frozen for three whole seconds after the call ended.
Then everything hit her at once.
"HE'S DOWNSTAIRS!" she whisper-screamed, clutching her phone like it was a weapon. "HE'S ACTUALLY DOWNSTAIRS."
(Okay. Breathe. It's fine. You are a calm, collected adult woman who—ohmygodyoulooklikeawreck.)
She spun toward her cupboard like a woman possessed.
The doors flew open, and chaos officially began.
Her closet was a battlefield of questionable fashion decisions — half the clothes were crumpled, some still smelled faintly of last week's perfume, and her favorite top was mysteriously missing (probably sitting in the laundry).
She yanked out an oversized hoodie.
Too casual.
(You'll look like you just rolled out of bed—which, let's be honest, you did.)
Then a dress.
Too fancy.
(You're going to a recording studio, not your own engagement party, calm down.)
Then jeans.
Too tight.
(Great. Now you can't breathe and you're late.)
"Why don't I own NORMAL clothes?" she muttered, half buried in a pile of fabric, her hair now sticking up like an electric broom. "Something that says: Yes, I'm professional, but also Yes, I'm effortlessly cool, and also No, I didn't spend 20 minutes talking to myself about what to wear."
(Oh my god, what if he's timing me? He said five minutes. Five minutes. That's like... three outfit meltdowns and one emotional breakdown.)
She glanced at the mirror.
Her reflection looked like someone who'd lost an argument with gravity.
"Perfect," she muttered. "Exactly the image I want to give the man who called me 'Liang Princess.'"
Finally, she settled on a fitted white top and loose Jean shorts. Casual but cute.
(Yes. Perfect. Approachable but not desperate. Stylish but not trying too hard. Basically the female equivalent of saying 'oh this old thing?' when you spent an hour picking it out.)
She ran a hand through her hair, and did something she never did - slapped on some pink lip balm, and grabbed her phone.
Heart pounding.
She stopped right in front of the door.
Her hand hovered over the knob.
(Okay. You've got this, Lily. Just… walk out there. Smile. Pretend you didn't have a mini breakdown over outfit choices. You're fine. Totally fine.)
She took one deep breath—
And opened the door.
Standing right outside her door was Han, holding a sandwich in one hand and frozen mid-knock like some judgmental food delivery man.
"Holy moly, Lily. Where are you off to looking like that?"
Lily blinked. "Is it… a bit too much?"
Han took one slow, exaggerated look at her outfit — head to toe — then deadpanned, "Yes. You look depressingly ugly."
(Wow. The support in this household is overwhelming.*)
"Oh shut up, Han," she snapped, shoving her phone into her pocket.
"I'm serious," he said around a bite of his sandwich. "Where are you even going at this hour? It's, like, one in the afternoon. Normal people are napping."
"Work," Lily blurted out automatically.
That got his attention. Han froze mid-chew. "Work? Since when do you work?"
Lily's jaw dropped. "Why do I look jobless to you?"
Han didn't even hesitate — he just gave her that slow, silent stare that said yes, absolutely, one hundred percent.
(Okay, rude. But also fair.)
"Oh come on, Han," Lily groaned, throwing her hands up. "You could've just lied and said no."
He grinned, clearly enjoying himself now. "Do you need me to drop you off? I'm free."
(Oh great. Because nothing says independence like your cousin chaperoning your first day of fake employment.)
Lily waved him off. "No thank you. Somebody's already here to pick me up."
The second the words left her mouth, she regretted it.
Han's entire body turned—like a radar locking onto a target. "Somebody?" he repeated slowly. "A new friend?"
(Abort mission. Abort. Mission. Immediately.)
Lily's smile twitched. "A… colleague," she managed, the word sounding about as believable as her saying she was a brain surgeon.
Han narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Uh-huh."
(He's not buying it. Oh God, he's going to follow me. I'm going to have to fake a medical emergency.)
Before he could say another word, Lily clapped her hands together and backed away. "OkaygreattalkbyeHan!"
And she bolted.
Down the hallway, past the grand staircase, straight through her lingering shame.
(Run, Lily, run before the interrogation begins.)
Luckily, the universe threw her a bone — Ruilin was no longer weeping on the couch. (Thank the drama gods.)
Lily slowed for half a second at the front door, catching her reflection in the shiny vase — adjusting her hair, smoothing her jacket.
(Okay. You look fine. Totally fine. Like a responsible adult who didn't almost die picking out this outfit.)
And then she stepped outside—
—and there he was.
Jinhai.
(Yup. Best view of the day. Possibly the year. Maybe my life.)
-----------------------------
HAN'S POV
Han had just been heading toward Lily's room with a sandwich in hand — a peace offering, of sorts, for existing under the same roof as their family — when the door nearly smacked him in the face.
Lily stood there, wide-eyed and suspiciously… sparkly.
"Holy moly, Lily," he said, blinking. "Where are you off to looking like that?"
The first thing that hit him wasn't her outfit — though that was new enough to warrant concern — it was the absolute explosion of clothes behind her. Her bed looked like a clothing store after a hurricane.
And she was wearing lip gloss.
Lip gloss.
The girl who thought tinted lip balm was "too much effort."
Han's sandwich paused halfway to his mouth. (What in the world is going on here?)
"Is it a bit too much?" she asked, clearly fishing for validation.
"Yes," he replied instantly. "You look depressingly ugly."
The glare she shot him could've melted concrete. Han grinned — classic sibling reflex.
But then his grin faltered.
He'd noticed her laptop open on the bed earlier — job listings, college websites, financial planning tabs. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut.
She was really doing this.
(She's actually job hunting. Because Mom and Dad won't give her a cent. Because she has to survive on her own.)
The thought made something in his chest twist painfully.
His stupid, brave little sister was trying to hold her life together while their parents pretended she didn't exist.
"Where are you going this time of day?" he asked carefully.
"Work," she said, a little too fast.
"Work?" He blinked. "Since when do you work?"
"Why do I look jobless to you?" she shot back.
Han just stared at her. (Yes. That's exactly what you look like.)
"Oh come on, Han. Saying no wouldn't kill you," she muttered, brushing past him.
He smirked. "Want me to drop you off? I'm free."
That's when it happened.
The tiniest flicker of panic flashed across her face.
"No, thank you," she said, smiling too hard. "Somebody's already here to pick me up."
Han froze mid-bite. (Somebody?)
"A new friend?" he asked slowly.
She blinked. Once. Twice. Three times.
(Oh, she's lying. She's doing the blinking thing. The blinking thing never lies.)
"A colleague," she said, forcing a grin that screamed suspicious.
Han narrowed his eyes. "Uh-huh."
Before he could press further, she practically bolted down the stairs.
"See ya, Han! Gotta go!"
He watched her disappear, a blur of denim and panic.
Han sighed, then took another bite of his sandwich.
(Something's fishy. She never moves that fast unless it's for snacks or emotional damage.)
He wandered over to the window beside the hall, leaning casually as he chewed.
And there — right outside the manor gates — was the reason behind Lily's mysterious "colleague."
A tall guy stood by a sleek black car, hoodie up, mask on, posture relaxed. Even from a distance, Han could tell the man was absurdly good-looking — the kind of "good-looking" that made people question their moral compass.
When Lily came into view, the guy straightened slightly — and winked.
Han bit into his sandwich again, smirking to himself.
"Oooooo… now who is this?" he murmured under his breath. "They're definitely not meeting up for work."