Chapter 2.1 Meeting

Shi Miao quickly received a reply.

Min Ting: Did you send this to the wrong person?

Shi Miao: ?

She was utterly confused.

Min Ting: I’m not on a business trip.

Shi Miao: “…”

Then who was on a business trip?

She explained: I’ve been working nonstop for the past two weeks and got things mixed up in my head.

Min Ting: It’s fine.

He then asked: Are you off today?

Shi Miao: Mm. Are you working overtime? If you’re free, let’s grab lunch.

Whether Min Ting worked overtime on Saturdays depended entirely on whether his younger sister, Min Xi, came home for a meal. If she did, no matter how busy the company was, he would take the day off. If she didn’t, holidays didn’t exist for him.

Their parents had always been tied up with official duties, leaving just the siblings at home for most of their childhood. Now that Min Xi was married, the house felt even emptier. Even though it was early Saturday morning, Min Ting was already at work.

Min Ting: I’m free. Where do you want to eat?

Shi Miao: Somewhere with more people.

The last time they dined together, it was at a Michelin three-star restaurant. That evening, the restaurant only served their table. The extended dining experience didn’t feel enjoyable to her.

Five minutes later, Min Ting sent her the restaurant address and the table reservation details.

Shi Miao: Ok.

Since they weren’t very close, the conversation ended there.

She put away her phone just as the taxi stopped in front of her apartment complex.

The complex was near the hospital, and Shi Miao had been renting a unit there since she started working. Her brother rented a place directly across from hers—each had their own space but could look out for one another. Their grandparents had left them a house in another district, but it was too inconvenient for commuting.

Before she reached the building, she noticed her mother’s car parked near the entrance.

A moment later, the car door opened.

Her mother stepped out, carrying a bag. From her demeanor to her attire, every detail exuded elegance and refinement, a sharp contrast to the old and worn surroundings. Standing by the car, her mother habitually extended a hand, waiting for Shi Miao to take it.

Shi Miao quickened her pace. “Mom, what brings you here?”

Zhao Moyin: “I had the housekeeper prepare a few dishes. I’ll join you for lunch. They’re not as good as fresh out of the pot, but they’ll do.”

Only then did Shi Miao notice the insulated bag in her mother’s hand.

As they chatted, the mother and daughter entered the building.

“Mom, I already made plans with Min Ting for lunch. He’s not on a business trip—I got that wrong.”

Zhao Moyin glanced at her daughter. She’d held back her curiosity all morning but didn’t expect Shi Miao to bring it up so directly.

She had spent the entire night coming to terms with her daughter’s flash marriage to Min Ting. The disparity between their families was simply too great. “Do Min Ting’s parents know about your marriage?”

Shi Miao: “I haven’t asked him. They might not know yet.”

Zhao Moyin’s heart was full of worry, but she didn’t voice it.

Shi Miao could see her mother’s concern. Min Ting’s family and her stepfather’s family belonged to the same circle of elites, but Min Ting’s family sat at the very top. Their marriage was far from an ideal match and unlikely to gain his family’s approval.

“Mom, I didn’t rush into this marriage. I thought it through carefully. Min Ting said I don’t need to worry about his parents or family—he’ll handle it. You don’t need to worry either.”

Zhao Moyin smiled warmly. “Let’s not dwell on it. No matter what happens, you’ll always have me.”

Once inside the apartment, Zhao Moyin unpacked four or five insulated containers, letting the dishes cool before storing them in the fridge.

Shi Miao couldn’t help but feel guilty. “Mom, I’ll come over next week on my day off and have lunch with you.”

Zhao Moyin suspected this plan would fall through. Next Saturday, the Ye family was hosting a gathering. Her daughter usually avoided Ye family events because of the crowd and her discomfort.

“Xicun is back from his trip, and your Uncle Ye wants him to join the family dinner next Saturday. If you don’t mind the crowd, I can have the driver pick you up from the hospital.”

Ye Xicun was Uncle Ye’s son from his first marriage—an older brother she had no blood relation to.

Shi Miao: “It’s their family gathering. I’ll pass.”

This was the response Zhao Moyin had expected. “Alright, once your residency is over, you won’t be as busy. You can visit whenever you want.” Her tone was gentle and cheerful, though her heart ached with guilt. Her remarried household hadn’t given her daughter a true sense of belonging.

“How’s your brother doing?” She shifted the topic to her son.

Shi Miao: “He’s been busy. I haven’t called him in three or four days.”

Her brother, Shi Wenli, was a neurosurgeon at the same hospital.

Two months into her residency, he had secured a year-long opportunity for further training abroad.

On the balcony, her mother collected the dry laundry.

Shi Miao reached out to help. “I’ll fold it.”

But Zhao Moyin stopped her. “You go take a shower and get some rest.”

Shi Miao hadn’t had a proper rest in two weeks. After a shower, she set an alarm for 11 a.m.

When the alarm rang for the second time, she reluctantly got up.

Her mother had already left. The clothes were folded neatly on the sofa, and a plate of freshly washed fruit sat on the dining table.

She applied light makeup and left at 11:30.

In the car, she rested her head on her hand and dozed off again.

At the restaurant, Shi Miao gave her table number to the server, who led her to her seat.

The restaurant manager happened to pass by Table 9 and paused briefly. Min Ting, the owner of Jinghe Group, always sat at Table 9 when he dined at the restaurant. Over the years, he had only ever brought his sister, Min Xi, with him.

Two hours earlier, Min Ting’s secretary had called to reserve the table.

The manager suddenly doubted whether he had reminded the staff to hold Table 9.

He went to the counter to ask the lead server, “When was Table 9 reserved?”

The lead server replied, “It was reserved along with Mr. Min’s guest.”

That settled his worries.

The manager said, “Carry on.”

After he left, the lead server instinctively glanced at Table 9. Sitting on the leather sofa was a woman in a black camisole layered under a loose, silky white shirt. Her long hair flowed naturally over her shoulders, her delicate features exuding understated elegance.

For some reason, the lead server was reminded of the moon in the depths of winter—bright and radiant, yet distant and cold.

The woman sipped a glass of water, and the server refilled it.

She held the glass leisurely, her gaze wandering around the restaurant. The two-story space, with its high ceilings and dim lighting, exuded understated luxury. Several vintage crystal chandeliers cast flickering candlelight, making it even more atmospheric in the evening.

Floor-to-ceiling windows framed lush greenery outside.

Turning her head slightly, she saw a tall man approaching her table. Dressed formally in a crisp white shirt and a tailored black suit, his entire demeanor exuded a chill.