Chapter 53: The Interpretation Was Reasonable
Someone approached behind Hanchuan as he was hovering behind Zhiyi’s chair.
"President Pei."
The urgency in the unfamiliar voice made Hanchuan straighten. His hand remained near Zhiyi’s chair, but his attention shifted away from her for the first time since they’d entered the ballroom.
A man in a dark suit stopped beside the table, one hand closed around his phone. He glanced at Zhiyi and apologized for the interruption before bending closer to address Hanchuan in a lowered voice.
"The owner of the Qingshan building received another offer. He’s given us fifteen minutes to exceed it before he signs," the other man whispered frantically.
Hanchuan’s expression cooled and the messenger turned pale. "He accepted our terms this morning."
"The competing buyer offered cash and waived the inspection. The owner wants an additional thirty percent."
Zhiyi looked at Hanchuan, a flash of worry crossing her face.
The Qingshan building was one of the safe houses that they needed for the flood event.
It sat above the projected flood line, contained an independently reinforced basement and possessed two underground water tanks that didn’t appear on the municipal records. The access road could support the mobile base after several narrow sections were widened, and the surrounding land offered enough elevation to remain usable during the first months of the flood.
Of course, there were weaknesses.
The southern retaining wall required reinforcement. One water tank had remained unused for six years and would need to be inspected for contamination. The electrical system depended entirely on the regional grid.
But none of those problems made the building easily replaceable.
The inspection mattered less than acquiring it before another buyer altered the agreement or discovered why Pei Holdings wanted an otherwise unremarkable building badly enough to pay above its market value.
Hanchuan took out his phone.
"Authorize it," he said.
The man didn’t move. "There’s also a dispute over the eastern access road. Legal needs your approval on the amended boundary before the transfer can proceed. The owner’s attorney is waiting in the library."
That required more than a signature sent through his phone.
Hanchuan looked toward the ballroom entrance, then toward Zeyu.
His mother had now brought a young woman in a pale-pink gown into the conversation. Zeyu stood with both hands in his pockets, staring past both women with an expression suggesting that the introduction wouldn’t improve.
Jingwei still hadn’t reappeared.
Shichen had almost reached their table before an older couple intercepted him near the garden doors. Qinghe remained beside the silver-haired man who’d been speaking to him when they entered.
All four men were inside the ballroom, but none of them were close enough to take Hanchuan’s place.
His attention returned to Zhiyi. "I need ten minutes," he said, his voice resigned. This involved their future, and it had to be dealt with as soon as possible.
"The property is necessary," she agreed with a nod of her head.
"I know," grumbled Hanchuan, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "But that doesn’t mean I have to like it."
"You should go."
He didn’t move.
Zhiyi understood the problem after a short delay.
Hanchuan had spent the afternoon waiting to see her after she stopped breathing at the boutique. He’d guided her through the ballroom with one hand around her waist and had only just seated her somewhere the noise and movement were marginally easier to manage.
Now he had to leave her.
"I’ll remain here," she assured him. "I’ll be safe."
His gaze moved over her face as if checking whether anything in her answer concealed a problem she hadn’t identified.
"Don’t leave the table."
"All right."
"If you need anything, call me."
"You’ll be inside the house."
"Call me anyway."
The instruction didn’t depend upon distance. Zhiyi nodded.
Hanchuan looked as though he wanted to issue additional instructions. His eyes moved toward the open garden doors, the ballroom entrance and the groups of strangers surrounding their table.
Instead, he placed one hand against the back of her chair. He bent close enough that his shoulder blocked part of the ballroom from view and spoke beside her ear.
"Ten minutes."
His breath moved against her temple as he quickly gave her a second kiss. Then he straightened and followed the man through a side door.
Zhiyi sat alone for a while as people continued moving around her.
Three guests paused to greet one another beside the empty chair on her left. Their conversation concerned someone’s recent engagement, although none of them identified the people involved clearly enough for Zhiyi to understand why the marriage was surprising.
A server filled the remaining water glasses and moved away.
The quartet finished one piece and began another without a break. The change in music caused several conversations to increase in volume before settling again.
Across the ballroom, Mrs. Song continued speaking to Zeyu while the young woman in pink smiled at him.
Zeyu didn’t smile back.
He looked toward Zhiyi twice during the first minute. The second time, his mother stepped farther into his line of sight.
Zhiyi drank some water.
She’d been instructed not to leave the table.
The instruction was clear enough. Remaining seated required no decisions, and Hanchuan had provided a defined estimate for his return.
Ten minutes.
Zhiyi placed her hands in her lap and watched the side door.
Three minutes passed.
Then five.
Shichen was pulled toward the platform by an older man Zhiyi assumed was his father. Their similar height and the shape of their faces supported the conclusion, although Shichen’s expression contained considerably less pleasure about the interaction.
Qinghe had finally escaped the silver-haired man only to be stopped by a woman pressing one hand dramatically over her chest while asking him questions. Qinghe’s attention moved toward the hand before returning to her face. He appeared to be determining whether she required medical assistance or merely wanted a doctor’s attention.
Jingwei still wasn’t visible.
At seven minutes, a group of women passed Zhiyi’s table carrying small white plates.
One contained a square of dark chocolate cake.
Another held two cream-filled pastries and a strawberry dipped in white chocolate. A third carried a fruit tart arranged with slices of peach, kiwi and berries in precise overlapping circles.
Zhiyi watched them cross the ballroom.
The women stopped beside a long table near the eastern wall. From where she sat, Zhiyi could see several raised silver stands covered with miniature cakes, fruit tarts, pastries and rows of chocolates.
No one had told her there would be desserts before dinner.
That was unusual.
Dessert generally followed the main meal. Serving it earlier increased the probability that guests would eat less of the food prepared for dinner, although the small portions might have been intended to prevent that outcome.
Another server placed a tray on the table.
The new pastries were covered in dark chocolate with a pale cream layer through the middle.
Zhiyi looked toward the side door.
Hanchuan hadn’t returned.
Eight minutes had passed.
The dessert table was approximately eighteen meters away. She would remain inside the same room, within sight of her chair and close enough to return before Hanchuan reached the table. The route contained no stairs, closed doors or areas obstructed from view.
She examined his instruction again.
Don’t leave the table.
It could mean that she shouldn’t leave the ballroom table unattended.
But the table already contained six place cards and no possessions requiring protection. Five other seats belonged to members of the core unit, and at least one of them would probably arrive before dinner began.
It could mean that she shouldn’t leave the ballroom.
She had no intention of doing that.
It could also mean that she shouldn’t physically move away from the chair.
If Hanchuan had intended that interpretation, he could have said, Remain seated until I return.
But he hadn’t.
Possibly because the distinction had seemed obvious to him.
It wasn’t obvious to her.
Zhiyi waited another thirty seconds.
The side door remained closed.
Someone selected the final dark chocolate pastry from the nearest tray. A server immediately replaced it, but there was no guarantee that another replacement waited beyond that one.
Zhiyi checked the ballroom again.
Zeyu was still with his mother.
Shichen was beside the platform.
Qinghe remained trapped by the woman with the apparently healthy heart.
Jingwei remained absent.
Her chair would stay visible from the dessert table.
She would remain in the same room.
She would be gone for less than three minutes.
That interpretation was reasonable.
Possibly.
Zhiyi stood, gathered the skirt of her dark-blue dress and walked toward the desserts.