Chen's hands were gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly.
The leather felt so soft and fine that for a second he had the absurd urge to go wash his hands before touching it again.
The passenger door opened.
"Let's go."
Ethan slid into the seat beside him, snapped the belt into place with a quiet click, looking entirely at home—as if this had always been his spot.
"R–right," Chen answered quickly.
He tapped the pedal and the MPV glided out of the hotel driveway without a sound.
—
Inside the cabin it was almost silent, save for the soft sigh of the air-conditioning.
The windshield was half HUD, half glass—speed, navigation, and surrounding traffic overlaid in augmented reality. On the center screen, the self-driving system had already plotted the route and was waiting for driver confirmation.
"Chen, relax," Ethan said, glancing over at him. "The system's cleared zero–incident certification."
Chen's ears warmed.
He coughed, then admitted honestly, "The car's too expensive. I feel like I need to fully understand how not to break it before I hand my life to the autopilot."
He scratched his head and couldn't help adding, in a slightly dazed tone:
"This is the nicest car I've ever driven in my life."
The front row went quiet for a moment.
"Mr. Ethan, I'm really…" he hesitated, then finally said what had been sitting on his chest all night. "I'm really grateful."
"I always thought I'd just be an old admin in some office," he said. "Work until retirement. That would be it."
"A guy like me—how do I end up in the driver's seat of a car like this? It feels like a dream."
"How does it feel now?" Ethan asked.
"Now…"
Chen thought about it, and replied with sincere seriousness:
"Now it feels like… it's not a dream. It's that my future just got pulled forward."
"Oh?"
"Before, I opened doors, turned off lights, booked meeting rooms and carried documents for 'the company.' Now I do the same things for 'us.'"
"The work is the same, but what it means… isn't."
"Before, it was just a job. Now it's… following you."
He didn't have the language for it, so the words came out in clumsy clumps.
"But don't worry, Mr. Ethan," he added quickly. "I'll give it everything I've got."
Ethan didn't reply right away.
Outside, the main artery of the city streamed past; towers marched by like rows of data columns.
"Chen," he said at last, quietly, "at my previous company, the person I trusted most… was you."
Chen froze.
"Everyone else only saw you running errands, scheduling meetings, ordering water," Ethan continued.
"What I saw was: you were always the first in the office and the last to leave."
"When something went wrong, you stood in front and took the heat. When things went right, you pushed others forward and said 'it was a team effort.'"
"I won't meet many people like that in this life."
Chen's fingers trembled slightly on the wheel.
"This car is just the start," Ethan said. "You'll need to get used to a lot of things you once thought 'weren't for people like you.'"
Chen drew in a steadying breath.
"Okay."
He tapped the icon on the screen. A message popped up: High-Level Autopilot Engaged.
The MPV signaled on its own, merged, and took the next turn with effortless smoothness—like a tame animal whose muscles hid a huge reservoir of power.
—
Half an hour later.
PeachSpring One.
Or rather: Peach Garden.
From the outside, it still looked like any other high-end mixed-use tower.
Sunlight bounced off mirror-smooth glass. The podium floors flared out like folded wings.
"We'll swap that sign out later," Ethan said.
He parked at the entrance and glanced up at the polished but soulless characters.
Chen followed, staring up at the building he'd spent half the night studying on paper.
Twenty stories above ground, seven below. Surrounding support facilities. Twenty-year master lease.
"Mr. Ethan, when we start making real money… shouldn't we just buy it?" Chen couldn't help saying. "The rent's no joke."
"This morning's additional 3.7 billion for Peach Garden should've landed already," he added. "Plus what we'd put in earlier—minus your cars—that's over four billion sitting under that project now."
"I could have bought it outright a long time ago," Ethan said, tone light. "Buying was the worse deal. You'll understand later."
He started walking in.
Chen stood stunned for a few seconds, then hurried after him.
—
They'd decided to start from the bottom.
The underground air was cool and damp.
B7. B6. B5. B4. B3.
"These five will be sterile warehouses," Ethan said.
As they walked, he laid out the real storage plan and his envisioned stocking rhythm in detail.
"Our contractors have to be expensive and worth it. We use the strongest, most reliable building materials that exist now."
"Code locks, blast doors, fire partitions—top-tier everything."
He was solemn. Chen listened like his life depended on it.
On every floor, Ethan made a full loop, pointing out:
—The load-bearing walls.
—Main beam nodes.
—The distance between elevator shafts and escape stairs.
In his mind, the Peach Garden blueprint was snapping into place over the real structure—
Which zones would be core warehouse cells.
Which would be reserved for equipment.
Which would be the "heart."
Back on the first basement level, they exited through a back door toward the equipment area.
Ethan looked into the utility shaft.
"For the electrical system," he said, "we're doing a full island-mode redesign."
"Right now the grid is stable. Backup power for one or two days is already considered good," Chen said honestly. "Is this kind of investment really necessary?"
"For 'normal' planning, no," Ethan said, moving closer to the wall and tapping the reserved voids.
"But I'm not planning for normal."
"The documentation I gave you—those are for show. For the public. Peach Garden's real purpose is different."
He paused, then continued:
"Let's finish with the power."
"What I want is this: if the city grid collapses entirely, and there are ten thousand people living in this building…"
"We still have at least one month of guaranteed baseline electricity."
"The internal AI network has to be built at the level that even with the outside completely cut off, it can still run on its own."
Chen frowned. "Ten thousand people. One month…"
"You don't need to ask why," Ethan said.
"I told you—I'll explain when it's time."
"For now, you just need to trust this isn't some random whim of mine."
He looked up at the bare ceiling as if he were already seeing future schematics laid on top of it.
"Cover the roof and outer façades in the newest generation of flexible PV film," he said.
"Not just solar. Wind, water loops, all of it. If there's sun, we use sun. If there's wind, we use wind. Rain and greywater, we use that too. Air-source for baseline support."
"Peach Garden has to generate its own power. The city grid becomes just another source. The storage is our safety net."
"Rewire the whole building. Make it a ring circuit that can switch into full island mode in under a second."
"In normal times, we're just a big urban power consumer."
"In critical times, we cut ourselves loose from the grid."
"And this tower becomes its own power ship."
Chen's scalp tingled.
"And the cost…" he managed.
"Will be high," Ethan said plainly. "But not as astronomical as you think."
"The tech is mature. The hardware's already mass-produced. Cities could have this option right now."
"They don't, because most developers don't want to pay for it."
"Their KPI is selling or leasing."
"We're different."
Ethan's gaze was steady, his voice low but containing something that pressed the world around it into silence.
"I'll tell you this much now: I believe the world is heading toward an apocalypse."
"And the real purpose of refitting this tower is to resist that."
"I want it to be the building that's still lit when everything else goes dark."
"Even if we only ever put eight thousand or five thousand people in here—even if we never fully use its capacity—we will design it so that ten thousand people can survive inside."
"Chen," he said, "I have enough money to live multiple lifetimes."
"And Zoe will keep growing it."
"So I have to do something that matters."
"If the end never comes, then we'll have built a 'doomsday base' that the world never needed. That's still meaningful."
"These things are secrets. No one else can know."
Chen stared at him, stunned.
"I… I'll find a few top MEP consultants," he said slowly. "Have them draft proposals."
"Let them draft," Ethan agreed.
"But the wording has to be clever. The explanations normal. The parameters reasonable."
"You investigate. Then you make the calls."
"Every yuan must become metal, wire, or concrete—not someone's kickback."
Chen bit down on the inside of his cheek and nodded heavily.
"Got it."
—
They worked their way up.
The first floor was nearly stripped bare—brand logos gone, only nail holes and marks remained.
Floors two through five still had tenants here and there, faces tight after being told "we need to talk about ending your lease."
"This floor will be brands," Ethan said, standing in the center of the lobby, looking up at the atrium. "People need to walk in and think, 'This place isn't cheap.'"
"Second floor—womenswear. Third—menswear. Fourth—kids and family. Five and six—appliance superstores."
"That's the public story."
Chen scribbled notes in his book.
"And the real story?" he asked.
"The real story is—"
"These floors can all be flipped overnight."
Ethan walked him through the dual-layer plan for each stack:
Which floors could be converted fastest into dense sleeping floors—
Which could have partitions ripped out to become field hospitals—
Which would become logistics hubs—
Which would be for children and elders.
"The more 'normal' a floor looks, the better its bones are for conversion," Ethan said.
"Everything we say publicly has to withstand scrutiny and inspection."
"But under stress, it has to withstand being torn apart and reassembled once."
Chen listened, and there was only one thought in his chest:
This isn't a renovation.
This is mobilization.
But he didn't ask "what are we gearing up for."
He lowered his eyes and looked at the half page he'd already filled.
"Chen," Ethan said, as the elevator doors closed, "do you have nothing but question marks in your head?"
Chen blinked, then smiled bitterly. "Honestly? Yes."
"Then let me ask you this," Ethan said. "Do you think I'm insane—or doing something meaningful?"
Chen was quiet for a few seconds.
"Mr. Ethan, I'm not highly educated. I don't understand a lot of things," he said. "If it were the old company and someone proposed this level of investment, I would have thought it was crazy."
"But now…"
"You sold the company to Qingyuan. I know the company wasn't failing. It could have grown just fine."
"And you're doing all this after that."
He lifted his head and looked Ethan in the eye.
"I've always believed in you."
"You must have your reasons."
"My job is one thing—handle what I'm responsible for."
The elevator chimed and stopped at the 13th floor.
Ethan smiled.
"That's enough."
"One day, you'll stand right here, look down, and see exactly how many people are alive because of what we did now."
"Then you'll understand."
To anyone else, it would have sounded like a fairy tale.
To Chen, somehow, it didn't.
He'd already started to believe that the end of the world was coming.
He didn't say anything more. He just nodded, hard.
Ethan continued explaining the core layouts and functional reserves above the 13th floor.
By the time they'd walked the tower top to bottom, it was almost noon.
They stepped out into sharp sunlight.
Chen was still mentally walking through each floor in his mind. It wasn't until he sat back in the car that he snapped out of it.
"Mr. Ethan, after I get back—"
"First, I'll整理 everything you said into an internal memo, just for you," Chen said. "Second, I'll reach out to several top MEP firms and design institutes, get them to draft 'surface-level reasonable' schemes."
"Third, I'll assemble a temporary external comms plan for Peach Garden's above-ground portion."
"And one more thing—"
He hesitated.
"I'll redo a cross-audit on all warehouse contracts, payments, and deliveries. Make sure there are no gaps."
"Good," Ethan said. "Move at your own pace."
"One thing to remember—"
"Everything we discussed in that building about its real use does not exist to anyone else."
"In any setting, you only ever use the public version."
"The true designs will exist in only two places—my head and one backup with you."
"If anyone asks why we're designing this way, just say:"
"It's the boss's personal preference."
Chen snorted. "That excuse… actually works pretty well."
"Refit as soon as possible," Ethan added. "Clearing the building in under a month is non-negotiable."
"At current modular-renovation speed, I expect three months to finish the real work."
"But publicly, you'll say it'll take a year."
"I have other plans. I'll tell you when it's time."
"Okay, Mr. Ethan."
Chen's tone was firm.
—
After dropping Ethan back at the hotel, Chen headed out again—duties multiplying in his mental list.
A little after 5 p.m., the lobby was still bright and busy.
The moment Ethan stepped inside, he sensed something off in the air near the front desk.
A woman in a beige dress stood by the lobby sofas.
Tall. Clean lines. Even from behind, people threw her second looks.
Summer.
In front of her stood a young man in a perfectly cut suit, hair styled just so, mouth curved in a habitual smile—the kind you only learned growing up in high-level circles.
"Summer, I'm serious."
His voice was low, but every word strained with impatience.
"I've talked to your grandfather. I told him—when you go back to the capital this time, you should come back with me. Put all the elders at ease."
"You can't avoid this forever."
"I'm not avoiding anything."
Summer's tone was calm.
"I've been very clear from the beginning—I'm not interested in you. Not in the slightest."
"We can build it slowly. If you don't even give us a chance, how are you supposed to 'get interested'?" he frowned. "This was decided between our families a long time ago."
"You're not a girl anymore. Time to settle down."
"You mean I should pay back some 'favor' your family did ours with my entire life?"
Summer smiled—a faint, cold thing.
"That debt—my grandfather has repaid it, over and over."
"If you actually care about gratitude, don't keep using it as leverage against me."
His face darkened.
"Summer, don't always make it sound so ugly," he bit out.
"No matter how capable you are outside, you're still a member of the Zhou family."
"You think a few projects mean you're above family arrangements?"
"You know how your grandfather's health is."
"You refusing to yield is what's stressing him out."
Summer's fingers tightened on the strap of her purse.
She'd only agreed to meet him here for one sitting in the lobby and "clear the air."
She'd chosen this hotel because it was near one of her current project sites.
She hadn't expected him to circle endlessly back to "family," "elders," "debt."
"I'll say this one last time," she said, voice dropping.
"I am not marrying you."
"If you care that much about my grandfather's health, stop bringing this up."
"Summer!"
His temper finally slipped. His voice jumped in volume.
"Are you done with this—"
He stopped.
Her gaze had flicked past him and suddenly lit up.
"There you are," she said, waving.
Her voice brightened.
"Sweetheart."
—
The word "sweetheart" froze both men for a second.
She was looking at the entrance.
Ethan stood at the automatic doors, room card in hand—clearly just back from outside.
"…"
He paused for a heartbeat.
Then his expression settled into something easy and natural, and he walked over.
"Traffic," he said smoothly, with a rueful smile. "Kept you waiting?"
Summer's shoulders loosened. She stepped forward and looped her arm through his.
"Yeah. I was about to die of boredom."
She turned to the man in front of her, smile snapping back into social mode—polite, chilly.
"This," she said, "is my boyfriend, Ethan."
"I told you I had a boyfriend. You didn't believe me."
"Rather than let you keep 'misunderstanding' and bothering me, I thought I'd invite him over today."
The other man's face shifted the moment he heard boyfriend.
"When did you…" he began.
He gave Ethan a once-over.
Simple shirt. Dress pants. Generic shoes. Clean, tidy. Nothing about him screamed money.
"Your boyfriend?" he said, letting disbelief show. "What does he do?"
"What does that have to do with you?" Summer asked, tone cool.
"Don't toss that at me," he snapped. "If your grandfather hears you've picked someone like this, you think he'll approve?"
"You're coming back with me now. We'll tell him face-to-face—"
"Sorry," Ethan cut in, voice steady.
"She already has plans tonight."
He looked straight at the man, eyes as calm as if he were reading an irrelevant memo.
"But there's one thing you should be very clear about."
"She's an adult. She has the right to decide her own relationships and marriage."
The words hit like a slap.
"Who the hell are you?" the man spat. "You think you have any say in this?"
"We have a longstanding agreement between two families," he said. "And you—you just show up from nowhere and—"
"That's enough."
Summer cut him off.
"I'll speak to my grandfather myself," she said.
He stared at her hand, wrapped around Ethan's arm.
"You'd really go against your whole family—for him?" he demanded. "You'd offend them, just to stand with him?"
"It's not 'for him,'" she said, smiling faintly.
"It's for me."
"If you're so worried about your family's 'debt,' then go talk to your grandfather. Ask him to sit down and calculate the favor from back then."
"Turn it into a number."
"Then we'll see whether the Zhou family's tab has already been paid."
"And if it hasn't—tell me the figure. I'll settle it."
His face went fully cold.
He looked at Ethan and said, in a flat voice:
"You'll regret this."
He turned and walked away, fast, as if one second longer might suffocate him.
The tension in the lobby drained away with his back.
The front desk clerk exhaled a quiet "phew."
Summer finally unwound her arm from Ethan's.
"Thanks," she said softly.
"You're welcome," he smiled. "I'm happy to help with this kind of 'good deed.'"
"Though," he added, "maybe we should discuss my appearance fee."
He grinned. "You dragged me into the role of boyfriend without warning, and I had to improvise. That's a lot of emotional labor."
Summer laughed, the last of the tightness in her eyes melting away.
"In that case…"
She pretended to consider it seriously.
"I'll buy you dinner tonight as your appearance fee. Deal?"
"Deal," Ethan said. "But I pick the place."
"Fine. You choose."
—
He chose the hotel's rooftop French restaurant.
The sunset poured in through glass walls, covering half the city in a soft orange wash.
Inside, the lights were gentle, more background than spotlight.
They sat by the window.
"What brought you here today?" Ethan asked as their food arrived.
"Project meeting," Summer said, stirring her salad absently.
"This hotel is close to my current site. It was convenient to meet him here."
"Didn't expect to be ambushed with a forced-marriage pitch—and then be lucky enough to run into you."
"That look you gave me was pretty sincere," Ethan said, thinking back. "You looked like someone who'd just seen a lifeline."
"That's exactly what you were."
Summer said it without hesitation.
"His grandfather helped my grandfather a long time ago. Their family has been hanging that favor over us for more than a decade."
"Since I was eighteen, if I so much as showed him a hint of impatience, someone would say:"
'Don't forget, without them, the Su family wouldn't be where it is today.'
"For years, for my grandfather's sake, I never cut it off too hard. I blurred the lines."
"But that young master's… track record is terrible. I don't like him. At all."
"And I've brought plenty of returns into his family's businesses through my work these past years. That debt should have been cleared long ago."
She lifted her glass, watching the red wine ripple along the surface.
"Enough about me. What about you?" she asked. "Why were you there?"
"I live there," Ethan said simply.
"You live at this hotel? You don't go home?"
"On the morning you came to discuss the acquisition," he said mildly, "I got my divorce papers."
"Because the child wasn't mine."
"I gave the old house and the car to my ex-wife."
"The kid might not be mine by blood, but I raised her. I couldn't stand the thought of her scraping by."
"So consider it my last gift to her as an 'uncle.'"
"From that day on, I've been staying here."
His tone was light, almost offhand.
"What!?"
Summer stared at him.
"No need to be that shocked. It happens all the time," he said. "I didn't expect it to happen to me, but what's done is done."
"Next time, I'll keep my eyes open."
"Honestly, I'm surprised you can sit here like this after something like that," she said. "Your heart's huge."
"Compared to some of the other things I've been through, this barely registers," Ethan replied, amused.
"Other things?" she asked, eyes widening again. "You have worse?"
He looked at her then—eyes bright, all earlier irritation gone, still unbelievably beautiful—and smiled, gentle and teasing.
"I didn't expect you calling my name would sound that good."
"Let's stick with that. I'm your boyfriend now, remember? Can't be 'Mr. Ethan' and 'Ms. Su' forever, can we?"
"That was a desperate measure," she protested. "But… yes, we should probably change how we address each other."
A faint blush crept up her cheeks.
"Summer?" he tried. "Is that okay?"
"Of course. I just… need to get used to it."
The blush deepened.
"Seriously," Ethan went on, tone light again, "if you ever need someone to play your boyfriend again, call me. Just give me a bit of notice, and I'll log the outings for you."
She laughed. "Oh?"
"How are you planning to bill me?"
"First time, like today, just a meal."
"Second time, maybe add a coffee."
"Third time…"
He shrugged.
"Depends how far you want me to go. If I have to walk through your family's front door with your arm in mine, I'll need to sit down and calculate overtime."
Summer couldn't help laughing, genuinely relaxed.
"You joke, but I really have thought about that," she admitted.
"Pressure at home isn't light."
"If I do want to kill this marriage arrangement at the root someday, I'll need a shield that looks good on paper."
"And now you're already a pretty solid candidate."
"Our connection is perfectly 'reasonable.' You're talented. You just took PeachSpring One. You look good, and you have potential. My parents would like you. My grandfather…"
Ethan grinned.
"So I'm officially part of the plan now? That was fast."
"I have one condition," he said, turning a bit more serious.
"What condition? If I can do it, I will."
Summer's gaze was steady.
"Next time I need it, you'll play my girlfriend."
"I'll give you warning."
"Oh, so you need a shield too," she said, amused. "No problem. That actually makes me feel better about using you as mine."
He, of course, didn't genuinely need a shield.
He wanted a smooth excuse—
a slope to walk down later, when he wanted to pursue her for real.
The sky outside darkened. City lights rose like a slow tide.
Soft music flowed through the restaurant.
They talked about family, about projects, about Peach Garden and what a city's future might look like. About legal structures, tax strategies, and the ways their lives had been shaped.
At some point, the wine bottle was empty and dinner was over.
Outside the hotel, her driver had the car waiting.
"Thank you for today," Summer said. "I really enjoyed this dinner."
Ethan smiled as he opened the door for her.
"So did I."
As the car pulled away, she raised a hand to wave back, eyes warm and bright.
He watched the taillights disappear, then turned and walked back into the hotel.
He slid his room card into the reader and rode the elevator up.
In a presidential suite in another luxury hotel not too far away, a certain "young master" was busy turning today's humiliation into fuel.
And in a residential building not far from there, a woman sat in front of her computer, frowning at an unread private message—
one she still hadn't answered.