Dawn crept lazily over Paris, brushing the skyline with soft apricot light. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of freshly baked bread and blooming flowers from nearby gardens. Baobao had been awake for an hour, despite having collapsed into bed late the previous night. The restless murmurs of his subconscious refused to release him from worry—Aunt Jin, Sean, and the looming whirlwind of business engagements formed a knot that he couldn't untangle.
He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and rubbed his temples, staring at the small hotel room with quiet discontent. Though modest, it was enough for him to rest, but comfort was not something he allowed himself freely. He reached for his phone, scrolling through the familiar contacts until he found the one name that mattered most. Aunt Jin. Her number stared back at him, taunting him with distance.
He hesitated. Her sleep was precious, and he didn't want to wake her. But he couldn't stand the silence. He tapped the call button, letting it ring twice before a soft, sleepy voice answered.
"Baobao? Is that you?" Aunt Jin's voice was gentle, slightly hoarse from sleep.
"Hi, Aunt Jin," he said, trying to keep his voice light. "Did I wake you?"
"Just a little," she replied, and he could hear the smile in her tone. "What time is it there?"
"Early morning," he admitted, glancing out the window at the awakening city. "Paris is… beautiful this time of day."
"You always say that about every place you go," she said, teasing, her laugh soft but sincere. "But tell me, are you eating properly?"
Baobao exhaled, realizing that despite all his worries, hearing her voice eased the tension coiling in his chest. "I am. Don't worry. I just… wanted to hear you laugh, Aunt Jin."
Her laugh came, quiet and melodic. "You worry too much. Just promise me one thing."
"Anything."
"Come home safely. And… remember, no matter what happens out there, family is always your anchor."
Baobao's throat tightened. "I promise," he said softly. He lingered on the line a little longer, basking in the familiarity of her presence before reluctantly ending the call.
Meanwhile, Sean was already awake, perched at the edge of his suite's massive bed, staring at the city through floor-to-ceiling windows. The Eiffel Tower gleamed in the morning sun, and the Seine flowed lazily below, a ribbon of silver in the light. Sean's hands were clenched into fists at his sides, the tension of the previous day still clinging to him like a second skin.
He hadn't slept well either. Meetings, investors, contracts—they were important, yes. But what gnawed at him now was deeper. Wang Jie. His brother's absence had left a hollow space in his life, one that no amount of wealth or power could fill.
Sean's phone vibrated on the nightstand. A message from his secretary: Meeting in one hour. Ready, Boss. He stared at the screen, fingers hovering above the keyboard, debating if he should respond. His thumb hovered, but he didn't press anything. Not yet.
By the time Baobao arrived in the lobby, dressed in a crisp black suit that belied the early hour, the concierge had already informed him that Sean was downstairs, waiting. He stepped into the sleek black car, sliding into the seat across from Sean, who didn't spare him a glance.
"Morning," Baobao said cautiously, breaking the silence. "How did you sleep?"
Sean's gaze remained forward. "Like I've slept a thousand times before," he replied, voice flat. His tone was casual, but Baobao recognized the weight behind it.
"I see." Baobao leaned back, glancing out at the awakening city. He remained silent for several minutes, resisting the urge to speak. Sometimes, Sean needed to navigate his thoughts alone, and he had learned patience over years of observation.
The drive to the investors' luncheon was filled with the usual hustle of Paris. Cars hummed along cobbled streets, cafés buzzed with early patrons, and street vendors arranged fresh flowers along the sidewalks. Yet inside the car, the only sounds were the subtle shifting of papers and Sean's occasional sigh.
Baobao's mind, however, wandered beyond the city. His Aunt Jin's laughter lingered in his ears, mingling with the memory of her frailty and stubborn will. He couldn't shake the fear that one day he might fail her—not in wealth, but in presence. He had spent his life careful, calculating, avoiding wealth because he feared it would change him, make him leave behind the people he loved.
Sean's eyes flickered toward him briefly, noticing the distant expression, but said nothing. Perhaps it was the shared silence, perhaps the quiet respect that had grown between them over time, but Sean allowed it.
The Grand Palais loomed ahead, its glass dome sparkling in the morning sun. Baobao straightened, preparing himself. Today's meeting was crucial, not just for contracts but for the stakes Sean carried, the legacy he built.
Inside, the room buzzed with energy. Investors moved between conversations, interpreters whispered in hushed tones, and waiters glided with trays of champagne and pastries. Sean's presence cut through it all—sharp, commanding, precise. Every word, every gesture was deliberate, calculated.
Baobao trailed slightly behind, watching, cataloguing, and silently guarding. He noted the subtle shifts—the tilt of Sean's head, the slight narrowing of his eyes, the way his hands tapped on the folder in front of him. He recognized tension, even when no one else could.
The introductions began just like always, formalities passed quickly, and then the negotiation started. Sean's French was precise, his arguments structured and persuasive. Investors leaned in, nodding at his clarity, impressed by his confidence and mastery of the details.
******
After the meeting, they walked to the car. The Paris sun had climbed higher, casting long shadows along the boulevard. Sean turned to Baobao, exhaling sharply.
"It's been a tiring day, hasn't it?" Baobao as though he had not stepped out of hell in the disguise of a meeting.
"Agh!" Sean sighed into his palm.
Shortly after, not so long after the exasperated sigh, Baobao chimed in again, voice dripping with a mischievous glint.
"I'm hungry. Let's go grab something to eat." He said, almost as if he was singing lullaby to a kid.
"Seriously? Now?"
Baobao nodded. "Yes now. You can't just starve your employee. I need to recharge."
"What kind of secretary is this?" He asked thinking about his life choices.
"What? You make me sad! How can you say that? Do you even know what I went through. The sleepless nights and hunger I tried not to show, because we were in hell? And my boss..."
Face, almost like he was facing death, was raised up.
"I'm not that cruel you know. Let's go eat. Gosh! Why are you fussing like a kid now." The last, almost sounded like a whisper.
Baobao grinned. Not because he would be taken to a restaurant for food. But because his boss, seem like he could really need a recharge. And food to him, was the best he could give.