“Mike, we’ve contacted the factory director’s wife. She passed along something important—the director will attend next Monday’s school anniversary. You need to head over right away and find a way to meet him.”

After hanging up, Mike gave Randy a wry smile.

“Looks like you’ll have to hold the fort here next week. The boss wants me to focus on the director. If it works, we might finally break through this stalemate.”

Randy patted him on the shoulder. “Go for it, brother. I’ll cover you.”

The moment Mike stepped off the plane, two messages reached him: the good news—Lotus was already here; the bad news—the factory director had not yet arrived.

That afternoon, in a quiet tea room awash in golden sunlight, Mike faced a woman whose presence filled the space. She sat by the window in a wicker chair, the slanting light softening her features. Nearly fifty, yet her complexion remained luminous, her fine lines not signs of age but the gentle ripples of laughter. Black hair coiled loosely at her nape, framing a smooth forehead and an aura of well-nourished fullness—ripened by years, yet vibrant.

“My name’s Rue. Just call me Sister Rue.” Her voice cut through the stillness, sharp and brisk, like a floodgate opening. “I’ll take charge of this matter for him. But, of course, I don’t work for free. How do you plan to pay my commission?”

Her tone carried a metallic edge—decisive, unyielding, yet oddly reassuring.

“Sis Rue, you can rest easy.” Mike slid a folder across the table. “Here’s a consulting contract. Your company will be our official advisor, entitled to one-thousandth of the project value as consulting fees.”

Rue’s fingers—painted a muted bean-paste pink—tapped idly on the tabletop. She didn’t touch the contract. Her smile remained radiant, but in her eyes a fleeting spark flickered, gone almost before Mike registered it—like the quiet click of a calculator resetting to zero.

“One-thousandth? Brother, I appreciate the gesture.” She raised her porcelain teacup, drained it in a single bold gulp. The motion, so brash against her refined appearance, startled him with its force. “But rules are rules. Best you discuss it again and give me a call.” She slid a card across the table, her smile returning as smooth as silk.

“Why didn’t you tell me Alex was here too?” Lotus demanded later, her tone sharp.

“Alex? He’s here?” Mike blinked in surprise. “I had no idea.”

“He skipped the chat today, so I messaged him. He said he came here to ski,” Lotus replied.

“Ski? Alone?” Mike pressed.

“He didn’t say.”

“I’ll call him.”

The line clicked, and Alex’s voice boomed through.

“Mike! I’ve got a date with a beauty. Wait—you and Lotus are here too?”

“I’m here on business. Lotus just happened to be free,” Mike explained.

“Perfect. Bring her along tonight. I’ve got a friend with me—we’ll have a barbecue together.”

That evening, the suburban barbecue restaurant was thick with smoke and chatter. The air buzzed with laughter, plates clattered, and the scent of charred meat filled the room. In a secluded private booth, Mike and Lotus found Alex—and his so-called friend.

It was Rue.

She had traded her silk blouse for a beige cashmere turtleneck that hugged her figure with understated elegance. Her makeup was lighter now, and under the amber lights, she looked softer, younger—almost transformed. At that very moment, she was leaning forward, smiling as she placed a slice of grilled beef onto Alex’s plate.

Then her gaze lifted—and locked on Mike and Lotus.

For a heartbeat, everything stilled. Her chopsticks faltered, the smile on her lips thinning, as if a gust of wind had blown through. The moment passed quickly; with practiced grace, she recovered, her laughter resuming as she slid the beef in front of Alex. But Mike had seen it—the slip, the tremor, the unguarded flash of panic.

“Alex, you’re always popping up out of nowhere!” Mike forced his voice light as he stepped forward. Lotus nodded politely, though her eyes lingered on Rue with subtle curiosity.

“I came to see a friend,” Alex declared, throwing an arm around Mike’s shoulder. His voice rang out, boisterous, with a glint of mischief. “What’s this? You two eloping? Caught red-handed!”

Mike laughed it off, but his gaze strayed toward Rue. She was smiling again, flawless and radiant, as if that moment of panic had been a trick of the light. Yet when Alex’s hand rested on Mike’s shoulder, Rue’s eyes flicked toward it—swift, instinctive, possessive.

“This is Rue,” Alex added casually. “Like a sister to me. Just happened to be here on holiday.”

“Rue, a pleasure to meet again.” Mike extended his hand.

Her grip was warm, steady, her voice smooth as velvet. “Indeed, little brother, what a small world. Alex said he had friends joining, but I never imagined it would be you two! Fate works in curious ways. Come, sit—this place is run by my sister, and her marinated meats are unmatched.”

Rue naturally took command of the grill. She moved with practiced ease, tending the meat, but her choices betrayed her: when the beef tongue reached its tenderest point, it went straight to Alex’s plate.

“Careful,” she murmured. “Eat slowly. Don’t burn yourself.”

Throughout the meal, she was lively and talkative, her laughter filling the room. But her gaze betrayed her—returning, again and again, to Alex. When he cracked a joke, she was the first to laugh, her eyes glowing with admiration, almost indulgent, like an elder humoring a child. When his gestures grew too wide and jostled the glasses, her hand instinctively twitched upward, ready to steady them—an unconscious act of protection no performance could mimic.

Mike watched it all, the pieces falling silently into place.

He lifted his glass, his smile steady but eyes sharp.

“Alex, Rue—thank you for tonight’s hospitality. Let’s put business aside. Tonight, we’re just friends sharing a meal. Cheers.”