His Treasure

Shadows & silk at the gallery

Xia Ling burst into Zhi Rho's dorm room, waving two glossy tickets like a battle standard. "Guess who got us into *the* art event of the season?"

Lina looked up from her sketchbook.

"If it's another one of those

'immersive experiences' where people cry into microphones about capitalism, I'm out."

"It's Lu Mei's *Metamorphosis* exhibition at the Celestial Gallery," Xia Ling announced with relish.

Zhi Rho's paintbrush froze mid-stroke. Crimson acrylic bled across her canvas like a fresh wound.

Lina's eyes widened. "*Yang Chen's* Lu Mei? The woman who-"

"—tried to claw my eyes out at the lounge? Yes." Zhi Rho set down her brush with deliberate calm. "We're going."

Xia Ling blinked. "Wait, you *know* her?"

Lina groaned. "She's the ex-fiancée who-"

"-deserves to see me standing in front of her artwork, smiling," Zhi Rho finished, dabbing her lips with vermilion pigment.

The Celestial Gallery glittered like an ice palace, its glass corridors

reflecting the sharp angles of Lu Mei's sculptures-twisted metal figures frozen in agonized contortions. The centerpiece, *"The Cage of Promises, "* loomed over the champagne fountain: a gilded birdcage containing hundreds of shattered porcelain rings.

Xia Ling whistled. "Someone's working through some stuff."

Lina elbowed her. "That 'stuff' is heading our way in four-inch Louboutins."

Lu Mei descended the spiral staircase in a dress made of knife-pleated silk, her smile as welcoming as a scalpel.

"Zhi Rho. How..*unexpected*."

Zhi Rho sipped her champagne. "Your invitation list must have been *so* selective." She gestured to Xia Ling.

"And yet, here we are."

Lu Mei's manicured fingers tightened around her flute. "I heard you dropped out of business school to finger-paint with toddlers.

Admirable...for those who need participation trophies."

Xia Ling choked on her drink.

Lina stepped forward, but Zhi Rho laughed-a sound like shattering crystal. "Funny. Yang Chen said you'd call my work 'juvenile.'" She tilted her head. "Though he used *much* cruder terms when describing your... "technique"

The crowd within earshot froze.

**Lie.**

But Lu Mei's porcelain complexion flushed scarlet.

As they circulated, Xia Ling gaped at a particularly violent sculpture-a marble hand gripping a rose made of rusted nails. "This is next-level bitter.

. "

Lina snorted. "That's nothing. Check the placard."

*"For Y.C. - Who Prefers Thorns to Petals"*

Zhi Rho's phone buzzed. A text from Zhi Lay:

**Heard you're at the viper's nest.

Don't get bitten.**

Before she could reply, the lights dimmed. A spotlight hit the central podium where Lu Mei stood, her voice dripping honey.

"Tonight's surprise piece was inspired by...*transparency*."

The velvet curtain fell away to reveal a glass sculpture: two figures entwined in combat, their faces eerily familiar.

Xia Ling gasped. "Is that-?"

"Yang Chen," Lina confirmed. "And that's clearly Zhi Rho."

The crowd murmured. The sculpture

-*"The Drowning Garden"*—showed

Yang Chen's likeness pulling Zhi Rho's under by her hair, bubbles of silver rising from her parted lips.

Lu Mei's gaze locked onto Zhi Rho.

"Some creatures belong in cages.

Others…in the depths."

Zhi Rho's pulse roared in her ears.

Then-

A deep voice cut through the tension like a blade.

"Charming."

**Yang Chen** stood at the gallery entrance, his black overcoat dusted with rain, his presence sucking the oxygen from the room.

Lu Mei's champagne flute slipped from her fingers. "Y-Yang Chen? You weren't-"

"Invited?" He strode forward, the crowd parting like frightened fish. "I own the building."

Xia Ling whispered, "Holy shit."

He stopped before the glass sculpture, examining it with detached interest.

"Fascinating interpretation." His gloved finger tapped the drowning Zhi Rho figure. "Though you've made one error."

Lu Mei swallowed. "Oh?"

Yang Chen turned his glacial gaze on her. "She doesn't drown." He leaned closer. "She *burns*"

With that, he shattered the sculpture with a single kick.

Shards rained down like diamonds as he turned to Zhi Rho. "Leaving?"

Every cell in her body screamed *no*.

But Xia Ling was gripping her arm, Lina's eyes were wide with warning, and the room smelled like blood and champagne.

Zhi Rho smiled sweetly at Lu Mei.

"Do send my regards to your

*therapist*"

Then she walked out-back straight, head high-with Yang Chen's dark laughter following her into the night. +

Rain slashed at their faces as they spilled onto the sidewalk.

Xia Ling was vibrating. "WHAT JUST HAPPENED."

Lina flagged a cab. "We're leaving.

Now."

But Zhi Rho's gaze was drawn to the black Maybach idling across the street. Through the rain-streaked window, she could just make out Yang Chen's profile-watching, waiting.

Her phone buzzed. An unknown number:

**"Next time you use my name as a weapon, little storm, make sure I'm not holding the blade. -YC"**

She deleted it.

**But her fingers trembled.