The next day, I woke up and lay in bed, bored out of my mind while scrolling through my phone. Honestly, I didn’t wanna get up—but remembering I had to make breakfast for Minghai and the others, I dragged myself out of bed with a sigh.

I opened my door. For some reason, Lao Han was up unusually early. She stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, staring outside. Hearing the click of the door, she turned, gave me a small smile, then went back to watching the view.

I scratched my head, peeked into the fridge, and called over my shoulder, “What do you want to eat?”

“Just fry a couple of eggs,” Lao Han said.

I yawned, nodded, washed my hands, and got to work. I grabbed a few eggs, pulled a bowl from the cabinet, and cracked them in. Turned on the gas, heated the pan, then added a thin layer of oil—too much oil in the morning gives you a stomachache.

When the oil started to smoke slightly, I slid two eggs in and sprinkled a light pinch of salt. Then I made portions for Minghai and Long Ge too, each topped with a squeeze of ketchup.

Minghai had woken up by now and sat silently on the sofa, watching me cook. Her hair was a mess, still in her little bear-patterned pajamas. I glanced at her and almost laughed. I set the fried eggs on the coffee table, served her half a bowl of rice, then headed to wake Long Ge. Seriously, felt like I was raising three kids. Only Lao Han acted halfway responsible. I was basically a single dad.

I pushed open Long Ge’s door. Chaos. Her beach shorts were tossed on the floor, a crumpled tracksuit and T-shirt dumped in a heap, ash smeared all over the desk. My head spun—how was I supposed to clean this later?

Suddenly, Long Ge yelled, “This spot! Anyone else left?!” The shout jolted me. I blinked—she was sprawled on the bed in *my* boxers, slowly rolling over. That scream wiped out my last trace of sleep. No wonder Lao Han woke up so early. Others mumble in dreams. Long Ge *shouts* in hers.

Her sleep pose was wild: the thin tank top hiked halfway up, one hand resting on her pale stomach, the soft curve of her chest partially exposed…

I hesitated, then tapped her arm. “Hey… time to rise and shine!”

She buried her face deeper into the pillow, mumbling, “Five more minutes…”

“Five minutes? It’s almost ten! Everyone’s waiting on you!”

Bleary-eyed, she rubbed her gem-red eyes and just stared at me. We locked eyes for thirty seconds. Then she sat up, blinked at her own legs, leaned toward the edge of the bed—I thought she was finally getting up. Nope. She snatched the blanket off the floor and yanked it over her head. The lump of blanket scrambled backward to the wall!

I stared at the wriggling bundle, utterly defeated. After a silent sigh, I went to peel it off. Damn, she was gripping tight—but thankfully, after becoming a woman, Long Ge was featherlight… Wait, why *is* she lighter? Does that even follow physics?

I yanked the blanket down—*thud!* I’d pulled her right off the bed. She clutched the blanket, shrieking, “Just two more minutes! I’ll get up in two minutes!”

Grunting, I dragged the blanket-and-Long-Ge bundle toward the living room. “Two minutes? I’ll freeze time first! Eat now, sleep all afternoon after!”

“Fine! Fine!! Stop pulling—my leg’s gonna get scraped raw!” she wailed.

I let go with a cold glare. She grumbled, crawled up slowly, shot me a look, and stomped the blanket back to her room. I almost followed to make sure she wouldn’t flop back into bed—but she emerged, hair tousled, plopped onto the sofa with a huff.

Lao Han watched us, chuckling quietly.

Minghai was gone from the sofa—probably back to bed. That girl sleeps all day.

Long Ge slowly picked at her rice. I stood nearby, eyes locked on her bowl, ready to grab it for washing later. Damn, my days are packed.

Then my phone rang. Who else would call during vacation besides these three? I glanced at the wall clock and answered, “Who is this?”

A pause. “It’s me. Liu Renfeng.”

Liu Renfeng? The voice sounded familiar—like a high schooler—but I couldn’t place it. He added, “We’ve met. People call me Young Master Feng.”

I set the phone down, took a deep breath, scanned the room: Long Ge still poking at rice, Lao Han wrapped in a blanket scrolling her phone. I lifted the phone again. “Who gave you my number?”

A cold chuckle. “None of your concern.”

“What do you want?”

He hesitated. After a long silence, Liu Renfeng said carefully, “I just… wanted to ask. That white-haired girl yesterday. What’s your relationship with her?”

I nearly facepalmed. So this rich kid’s really chasing Long Ge? After sending a dozen guys to ambush her outside the internet café?

I glanced at Long Ge. Go on a date with a guy? Only if a mortar shell scrambled her brain mid-fight.

No need to ask. I shut it down flat. “She’s my wife. Don’t even think about it.”

Lao Han looked up, puzzled. “Who’s calling?”

I waved her off. She kept watching me, confused.

On the line, Liu Renfeng softened his tone. “No need to be hostile. Just lunch… My people were out of line the other day. I’ll cover it. Consider it an apology.”

I listened, watching Long Ge slowly nibble her sunny-side-up egg. She rarely eats breakfast—this habit took me forever to fix.

I weighed the invite. Bringing Long Ge wasn’t impossible… but I feared she’d slip up. Lao Han or Minghai? Maybe manageable. But Long Ge? That white hair, the scar over her right eye—way too distinctive. One wrong word from this Liu guy, and with Long Ge’s brain? Total exposure.

Long Ge finally finished, shoved the bowl at me with a glare. I took it, cradled the phone on my shoulder, carried the bowl to the sink. “I’ll think about it. She’s not coming—she’s on her period.”

Long Ge, stretching her ankles, yawned and turned to Lao Han. “You on your period?”

Lao Han rolled her eyes. “Period? What—oh, not yet.”

Liu Renfeng sounded disappointed. “Oh… Well, you come then. Huixing Grand Hotel. Noon today. Call when you arrive. I booked a private room. Need to talk.”

“I’ll see. Maybe.”

He rushed, “Don’t worry—I’ll come alone. Or… bring the white-haired girl. Safety in numbers.”

I almost laughed. *Bait so obvious it squeaks.* I shook my head with a smile. “Nah. She’s really on her period.”

He sighed. “Fine. I’ll reserve it. Noon. Don’t be late…” Then, remembering my beach shorts from last time, he added, “Wear proper attire. The doorman won’t let you in otherwise.”

He hung up.

I set the phone by the sink and sighed, starting the dishes. One headache after another. Long Ge tilted her head. “Who was that? Where you going today?”

“Some trap disguised as lunch. Urgent.”

She grinned. “Go! Don’t chicken out! You’re a guy—stand your ground! Call me if trouble hits. Don’t back down, just go in!”

Easy for you to say. *Go in* where? *Who* gets taken down? At this rate, *I’m* the one getting taken. He’s waiting at a fancy hotel. What if he says “Room 303”? Long Ge won’t even make it in time.

But honestly… this lunch probably means nothing deep. He just wants Long Ge. No real blood feud—his side provoked first. I only trash-talked a bit. His move’s simple: acknowledge I’m close to her, avoid burning bridges, chat over food, maybe throw in some intimidation. He doesn’t believe she’s my wife anyway. Scare me off, or at least feel better after yesterday’s clapback.

So I’d go. Lay cards on the table. Swallow a little pride. Move on. I’d stick to “she’s my wife.” What’s he gonna do—steal her? With that twig body? One flying kick from Long Ge and he’s hospitalized.

I tidied up and headed out—no fancy outfit, just regular streetwear. Didn’t even know where Huixing Grand Hotel was. Hopped in a taxi. Twenty bucks gone. *Damn. I’m eating every penny back.*

At the hotel entrance, I finally got why he insisted on formal wear. Holy crap. Gilded lobby, parking lot full of Hummers, Porsches, Mercedes—the cheapest car there cost more than my life savings.

I stood there like a lost tourist. The doorman watched me just as long. Finally: “Need assistance, sir?”

I waved him off. *Yeah right—“assistance” probably costs ten bucks. I’ve got thirty total.* I stood firm, ready to call Liu Renfeng down.

The doorman, probably never seen someone this underdressed here, blinked. “Call if you need anything,” he said politely, then returned to his post. *Wow. Service with a smile.*

Liu Renfeng rushed out minutes later, scanning the crowd—and spotted me instantly. My puffy down jacket screamed “out of place” among the suits.

He strode over. The doorman bowed deeply. “Young Master Feng!”

I shoved my hands in my pockets. Liu Renfeng wore a crisp white suit—definitely old-money vibes. *What does his family even do?*

He muttered, “I told you to wear formal wear. Why the down jacket?”

“This jacket cost over a grand. Isn’t that formal enough? At least I’m not in beach shorts.”

He covered his face, exasperated.

We took the elevator to the tenth floor. Two elegant women in crimson qipaos greeted us with slight nods and led the way.

We sat at a window-side table. A white porcelain vase held a single fragrant blossom.

I plopped into the chair, glancing around. Liu Renfeng sat opposite, arms crossed, avoiding my eyes. *Yep. Thinks I’m a country bumpkin.*

Seconds later, a qipao-clad server approached with a delicate menu. “Young Master Feng, the usual? The 1992 Eagle’s Cry?”

He didn’t look up, gaze fixed outside. “Not today. Bring the 1994.”

This qipao-clad young lady wasn’t nearly as perceptive as the two girls by the elevator, just curiously staring at me the whole time—as if stepping out without washing my hair today was some unforgivable crime.

She waited quietly nearby. Liu finally looked up, sighed, and asked, “What about you? Want some red wine?”

Truth be told, I’d never tasted red wine. But I was done playing country bumpkin. With a grand wave of my hand, I declared, “Bring me a bottle of 1982 Lafite!”

The young lady smiled politely and glanced at Liu Renfeng. Liu covered his forehead again and muttered, “Just do as he says.”

She nodded with a gentle smile and turned to leave. I quickly called out, “Wait—hold on! Is the 1982 Lafite actually any good?”

Liu stared up at the chandelier in utter despair, practically rolling his eyes. I got it—I’d embarrassed myself again. *Can’t even ask if I’ve never tried it?* I’d heard Lafite cost a fortune. If it tasted bad, I’d switch.

Ever courteous, the young lady smiled and said, “Sir, we offer tastings. If it doesn’t suit your palate, we can change it.”

I hesitated a moment, then tentatively added, “Then… how about a two-yuan sample first?”

She gave an understanding smile and headed toward the front desk. The second she left, Liu’s face twisted. “Are you… *deliberately* trying to humiliate me?” he groaned.

If he weren’t trying to impress Brother Long, I swear he’d have yanked my collar and tossed me out the tenth-floor window. I shrugged helplessly. “You’re paying anyway. Think Lafite’s too pricey? We’ll just get draft beer.”

Liu slumped into his chair, clearly done with me.

Soon, the qipao-clad young lady returned, placing an elegant stemmed glass of deep red wine before me. I downed it in one gulp, smacked my lips twice, and frowned. *This is bitter? I thought wine was sweet.*

Liu had already given up, staring blankly out the window like a dead fish. The young lady waited patiently beside me. Honestly, I wanted to order a Sprite right then—but this was business. Ordering cheap was *for his sake*, saving him money. Though judging by his flashy vibe… maybe he didn’t care.

Still, too much shame wasn’t good. I decided: something tasty *and* expensive. I turned to her tentatively. “Uh… tried it. Not really my taste. Skip the Lafite. Do you have ‘Brave the World’?”

Liu shot straight up from his chair—*again* with the dramatics? Was cheap beer *that* shameful?

I jumped up too, slammed the table, and yelled, “Fine! Bring the 1982 Lafite—we’ll sip once and dump the rest! And two bottles of Brave the World!!”

Young Master Feng stood frozen, face contorted. Then, as if remembering something, he slumped back down dejectedly.

Shameless? Absolutely. I pointed at him. “Deal! He pays for the Lafite. I cover the Brave the World!”

As I spoke, I fumbled in my pocket for the ten yuan left from my taxi fare—and a fifty-cent coin clinked onto the floor. I reached to pick it up.

Flustered, Young Master Feng shoved two hundred-yuan bills toward the young lady. “Just… buy it. Please… run to the supermarket…”

She accepted the money with a serene smile, gave a slight bow, and turned away.