Bruce Chen moved like someone who had rehearsed every contingency twice.
When Lina arrived at the studio at 6:45 a.m., he was already there, holding a warm cup of ginseng tea and adjusting the lighting for a spontaneous lookbook shoot.
“You didn't sleep again," he said, not accusing—just knowing.
Lina offered a small smile. “I slept… eventually."
He handed her the tea. “Let me guess—cutting until 3 a.m., then three podcasts on self-worth and one YouTube rabbit hole on bonsai pruning?"
She blinked. “How do you—?"
“Assistant's intuition." He winked. “Also, you left the 'Mindful Gardening' tab open on the main monitor."
Lina shook her head, laughing quietly. “What would I do without you?"
Bruce didn't answer.
But something in his smile lingered longer than usual.
—
That afternoon,
