Volume One, Chapter 23: One Step Closer to the Dream

A glass of milk in one hand, a bottle of beer in the other. Her arms were full of an assortment of snacks: a fruit platter, chips, spicy sticks—everything piled up in a jumble. Her eyes were fixed on the milk, which threatened to spill at any moment; her arms, stretched to their limits, could barely manage it all.

As Lou Ye walked forward, he called out, “Senior, give me a hand…”

She set aside the orange tabby and took the milk and beer from him. Before Sang Wan could voice her question, Lou Ye let go, and the snacks in his arms tumbled noisily onto the carpet.

“I’m exhausted!”

With a relieved sigh, the young master didn’t bother picking up the snacks. Instead, he collapsed into the massage chair, which began to hum to life. The massive screen behind them flickered on, casting shifting lights across the dim home theater.

Sang Wan gathered up the snacks and placed them on the table. Just as she straightened, Lou Ye patted the chair’s armrest and beckoned, “Senior, it’s still early. Sit with me for a while.”

The room was shrouded in darkness, with only the screen’s changing colors illuminating the space.

Just for a while, she told herself. Only a little while. By the time she left, Lou Ye wouldn’t be able to tell she’d been crying, and she wouldn’t feel so awkward.

Sang Wan turned and sat down. Her back settled into the sofa, the massage chair began its gentle rhythm. It was as if a master masseur stood behind her, cradling her head and easing the tension from her neck down to her lower back.

On the screen played a Hayao Miyazaki animation, vibrant with color and filled with lilting music. In her arms, the orange tabby curled into a perfect ball, warm and soft, pressing gently against her like a living hot-water bottle.

Sang Wan didn’t even know when she drifted off. The quiet, even sound of breathing filled the air. Lou Ye glanced over at her weary profile, then reached for a blanket and covered her gently.

He waited over ten minutes, only rising to leave once he was sure she was sleeping soundly. Soon he returned, this time carrying a first aid kit.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor, Lou Ye tenderly removed the slippers from Sang Wan’s feet. He cleaned them with a warm towel, then took a cotton swab and disinfected the tiny, splitting wounds. One by one, he applied ointment to each.

He left the room, but glanced back after a few steps to see the orange tabby rolling over beneath the blanket. Lifting the edge of the blanket, he scooped the cat up by the scruff and took it downstairs.

That night, Sang Wan slept more soundly than she had in ages—dreamless, peaceful.

The alarm rang, and she remembered her scheduled interview with Cheng Jingran that day. Sang Wan sat up with a start, surrounded by darkness.

As the massage chair began to hum behind her, realization dawned. She was at Lou Ye’s house. She checked her phone. Seven in the morning. So she’d spent the whole night here?

She hurried out, intent on leaving as quickly as possible.

“Good morning, Senior!” Lou Ye’s lazy greeting drifted from the kitchen.

She looked up to see him brewing coffee, the rich aroma filling the air. He checked his watch. “It’s seven o’clock. You have plenty of time to shower, change, and have breakfast. I can give you a ride to the company for your interview—it’s right on my way.”

“Of course, you can refuse,” he added, turning to her. “I respect whatever you decide.”

If she went back to the hotel to wash up and change, there was no telling if she’d make the ten o’clock interview. But the thought of borrowing clothes from Jiang Ke’er again made her hesitate. Last time, she could claim it was an emergency because of the rain. What excuse could she use this time? Alone with a man, borrowing clothes so early in the morning—what would Jiang Ke’er think?

Her head spun.

Lou Ye jerked his chin toward the side. “They’re washed.”

She looked over and saw a laundry basket by the sofa, filled with the jeans and undershirt she’d worn on the rainy day. Glancing down at the white shirt she had on, she finally relaxed. Grabbing the basket, she went to the bedroom to change.

She returned ten minutes later, the air fragrant with breakfast. Coffee, fried eggs, and sandwiches waited on the table. At the other end sat Lou Ye, a six-inch cream cake beside his coffee. He ate it slowly, savoring each bite.

Noticing her gaze, he explained, “Something sweet lifts the mood. Want a slice?”

Sang Wan shook her head. “Are you in a bad mood?”

Lou Ye said nothing. Last night, his mood had been terrible—especially after seeing the shocking wounds on the soles of her feet. But this morning, opening his eyes to find her still there, he felt as though he’d come one step closer to making his dream come true. The feeling was complicated; he couldn’t quite describe it himself. When he saw the caution in Sang Wan’s eyes, he denied it flatly: “No, I just… wanted some.”

Sang Wan breathed a quiet sigh of relief. She’d troubled him so much. The orange tabby kept hiding, making him worry. Putting herself in his shoes, she realized what a burden she’d been.

“Um, has the orange… 2S had all its vaccines?” she asked.

Her expression made it clear she wanted to take 2S away. Lou Ye’s mood soured again. “No. Second shot is in a week, third in a month. Then it’ll be done.”

If she passed today’s interview at Lou Group, she’d soon be able to find a place and take the cat home. If she didn’t…

Unable to promise she’d take 2S away soon, Sang Wan could only nod, even more cautious. “Sorry for troubling you.”

At those words, Lou Ye’s mood seemed to darken further. He got up and went to the bedroom to change.

Sang Wan ate her sandwich and drank her coffee quickly, then tidied the table, washed the dishes, and loaded the dishwasher.

The Ferrari pulled away from the hillside villa. When they were within sight of Lou Group Tower, Sang Wan spoke up from the passenger seat, “Could you pull over? I’ll get off here.”

Realizing she wanted to avoid any appearance of impropriety, Lou Ye said nothing. After the traffic light, he stopped at the curb.

Sang Wan thanked him, got out, and walked the rest of the way.

Lou Group Tower rose in the center of the imperial city, a glittering skyscraper reflecting the morning sun. Sang Wan went to the front desk and, after mentioning Director Cheng from the Project Design Department, was quickly handed a visitor’s pass. “Take the elevator to the 60th floor. Someone will receive you there.”

The glass elevator soared upward, the bustling city shrinking below her. The view was breathtaking.

Ding!

The doors opened. Standing there was a young woman in a chic, Chanel-inspired suit.

“Hello, Senior Sang. I’m Cheng Jingran!”

Getting straight to the point, Cheng Jingran greeted her and led her to the meeting room. After a brief chat about Sang Wan’s post-graduation experience, Cheng Jingran started the projector. Several works from a recent architectural design competition appeared on the screen.

“These were shortlisted, but didn’t win any prizes,” Cheng said. “Suppose it’s before the competition, and you’re their designer. What would you change? You have half an hour to think it over. See you in thirty minutes.”

“Alright.”

Sang Wan preferred this kind of hands-on challenge to theoretical discussion. Pen in hand, she looked up at the screen—at the design drawings and technical details—and felt her blood begin to stir.

Cheng Jingran left the room and went straight to the top floor, to the president’s office. She knocked. A cold voice answered, “Come in.”

Taking a deep breath, Cheng Jingran pushed open the door.