“Once I start working?” Xingyu looked sideways at Xiaokai. “What makes you think I’m going to start working?”

“I’m not naïve. Why else would Fuqin have asked you to return?”

“He said he wanted me back because of some kind of charity event?” This ended in what sounded like a question, as if Xingyu himself wasn’t sure that this was the proper answer. Xiaokai glanced back at him; he was looking around the elevator, taking in every little detail, his hands clasped in front of him.

“The Chen’s event?”

“Yeah, that sounds right. Something about making sure people still know I’m alive and haven’t abandoned the family.” He let out a little laugh, but Xiaokai wasn’t amused. He had abandoned the family. And if he really thought the only reason Liu Baiyan wanted him back in the country was to make an appearance at some insignificant charity event, he’d lost his touch. Liu Baiyan never just wanted one thing from anyone. He’d called Xingyu back because his youngest son had disappointed him, and Xingyu was always his first choice anyway. “Hey, question.”

The elevator door slid open. Xiaokai stepped out and Xingyu followed closely behind, waving a hand at Xiaokai’s secretary as they passed.

“What is it?”

“The gallery showing tonight—my friend is free for lunch, if you’d like to meet him before we go.”

“I don’t have time for that.”

“Not even for a little bite to eat?”

Xiaokai pushed the door to his office open. Xingyu made an impressed sound.

“You remodeled. It looks nice.”

“I don’t have any need, nor do I have any desire to meet your friend.”

“What, Ba never taught you to prepare as much as possible before meeting anyone new?”

Xiao-Xiao just looked at him for a long minute. He looked almost regal sitting in that chair, and so much like their Ba that it made Xingyu’s chest hurt. It also made him want to run. The suit, the office, the way his expression was utterly unreadable—it was like Xingyu was looking at a younger version of his father. At last he answered Xingyu, his voice absolutely even: “Fine. If you insist. Just make yourself comfortable.”

The office while Ba had occupied it had been dark and unapproachable: it was well-designed, certainly—Ba wouldn’t settle for anything less—but it had also been industrial and functional only in the business sense. This had perhaps been on purpose; although Ba had valued business connections, he usually left the socializing to Xingyu’s Laoma—gentle, patient Laoma who could play customers like a fiddle. If he felt he needed to meet with any partners, this office served to intimidate them, and it almost always did. Ba was intimidating on his own, and this office amplified that.