Chapter 51: Later
Zeyu looked from her to the house. "No one should replicate this. My mother has been lost in the west wing twice."
Zhiyi ignored him. "The first heat may continue for four years. Shichen could be underground for most of that period. Psychological distress caused by confinement could reduce his ability to work and create conflict within the group."
Hanchuan’s expression remained calm. "He’ll probably like living more than dying."
Zhiyi considered the statement.
Death would eliminate Shichen’s ability to experience architectural dissatisfaction. Survival in an enclosed environment was therefore the preferable outcome, even if the environment conflicted with his established preferences.
"Yes," she said. "That is likely."
Zeyu turned his face toward the window, but not before Zhiyi saw his mouth twitch.
The vehicle reached the front of the line.
A valet approached Hanchuan’s door while another moved toward Zeyu’s side. Beyond them, two attendants waited beneath the portico to direct guests toward the entrance.
There were cameras positioned above the doors.
Additional security stood on both sides of the stairs.
A photographer waited near the top of the carpet, taking pictures as each new group arrived.
Zhiyi’s hand closed around the small evening bag the stylist had given her.
This was not a family dinner.
The car door opened beside her before she could finish determining how inaccurate the description had been.
Noise entered immediately. Water struck the fountain behind them. Engines started and stopped along the drive. Shoes crossed stone. Guests exchanged greetings while attendants spoke into discreet radios. Camera shutters sounded at irregular intervals from the top of the stairs.
Hanchuan stepped out first.
He turned and held one hand toward her.
Zhiyi looked at it.
She did not need assistance getting out of the car. The skirt allowed sufficient movement, the heels were stable and the surface beneath her was level.
Then she saw the people watching Hanchuan.
Several had already turned in their direction. Their attention moved from him to the open car door, waiting to see who would emerge after him.
Zhiyi placed her hand in his and let out a breath of air when his fingers closed around hers immediately.
She gathered the front of her skirt with her free hand and stepped from the vehicle. The concealed slit opened as she moved, exposing one leg to the knee before the fabric fell closed again.
Conversation near the entrance changed.
It did not stop completely, but the volume shifted as more faces turned toward them.
Hanchuan moved closer until his shoulder almost touched hers.
Zeyu emerged from the opposite side of the car and came around the rear, straightening one cuff as the valet drove away. He looked perfectly at home beneath the lights and the attention, his earlier amusement replaced by the easy confidence he wore in public.
Zhiyi looked up at the mansion.
From this distance, the glass entrance appeared even larger. The doors extended through two stories, revealing a white marble foyer and a chandelier composed of hundreds of suspended glass pieces.
More glass.
She began calculating how many people would be injured when it fell.
Hanchuan’s hand shifted from hers to the small of her back. "Don’t start," he murmured against her ear.
Zhiyi looked at him. "I didn’t say anything."
"You were looking at the chandelier."
"It will become dangerous during seismic movement."
"There is no earthquake in the sequence."
"Secondary geological events remain possible."
Zeyu stepped up on her other side. "If it falls, Shichen can catch it."
"The combined weight would crush him."
"He works out."
"That does not alter the load capacity of his spine."
Hanchuan guided her toward the red carpet before Zeyu could answer.
They reached the first of the seven stairs.
The photographer at the top turned toward them. A new round of camera shutters began as Hanchuan climbed beside her, keeping one hand at her back while Zeyu stayed close on her other side.
Zhiyi counted each step.
One.
Two.
Three.
By the fourth, she could see through the entrance into a second room filled with people in formal clothing.
Five.
A server crossed the foyer carrying a tray of champagne.
Six.
Someone inside noticed them and hurried toward the doors.
Seven.
Zhiyi reached the top and stopped beneath the chandelier.
A man in formal black attire bowed to Hanchuan before turning toward her with carefully concealed curiosity.
"President Pei. President Song." His gaze moved to Zhiyi without lingering on the sapphires around her throat. "Miss Qiao. Welcome to the Liang residence."
He had called her by name.
Zhiyi had never met him.
The man straightened and gestured toward the open passage beyond the foyer. "Young Master Liang and the others are in the ballroom. Please allow me to take you to them."
They followed him beneath the chandelier.
Zhiyi looked up despite Hanchuan’s earlier instruction.
Hundreds of pieces of cut glass hung from nearly invisible wires at different heights. Together, they formed a suspended spiral that began near the ceiling and descended through the open centre of the foyer. Light travelled through each piece and broke across the white marble walls.
It weighed less than she had estimated from outside.
It would still be dangerous if it fell.
Hanchuan’s hand settled against the small of her back again and guided her forward before she could determine how the ceiling mounts had been distributed.
The foyer opened into a broad gallery displaying architectural models beneath glass. Each miniature represented one of the Liang Group’s completed projects. Residential towers. Hotels. Museums. A waterfront commercial district constructed across three artificial islands.
Small plaques identified the project, completion date and charitable contribution connected to it.
Zhiyi slowed beside a model of a hospital complex.
The eastern tower had too many windows.
She leaned slightly closer to the glass case, trying to see whether the model showed enough of the interior layout to determine which departments occupied the tower.
"Later," Hanchuan said quietly.
Zhiyi looked at him. He had stopped beside her rather than continuing after their guide, but his eyes moved toward the doors at the end of the gallery. They were already expected inside the ballroom.
"Will the models still be here?"
"Yes."
"You can’t guarantee that." Zhiyi glanced back at the hospital. "Someone could move them before I finish."
Hanchuan followed her gaze to the eastern tower. He knew that telling her to forget about it would not make the unfinished assessment disappear from her mind.
"I can ask Shichen to lock the room."
That would prevent anyone from moving the models until she could return.
That was sufficient.
Zhiyi stepped away from the display and continued toward the ballroom with him.