Moonlight poured through the glass ceiling of the Centennial Greenhouse, turning dew‑spattered petals into liquid silver. Lin Wantang crouched beside a marble planter, adjusting the frequency on her smartwatch as Qi Siheng's silhouette stalked between rows of crimson roses.
“Why did you bring me here?" she whispered, voice tight over the echo of dripping water. The scent of damp earth and roses was both intoxicating and claustrophobic.
He paused under an arch of climbing jasmine, shadows pooling at his feet. “I needed to talk—away from prying eyes." His voice was low, measured, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed him.
She rose, folding her arms against her silk gown. “You could have summoned me in your office. This is…dramatic."
He met her gaze, eyes glinting. “Drama suits you."
