Eden Hotel
The morning sun filtered weakly through the gauzy hotel curtains as Yinlin tied her apron in the staff lounge. Her eyes were tired, sleep stolen by a vague unease she couldn't shake.
Even in the brightness of day, she felt... watched.
It wasn't just the man from the night before — Xu Tao, as he had called himself — though he lingered in her thoughts like a thorn beneath the skin. No, this was something else. Something constant. Like eyes brushing her spine whenever she bent to wipe down a table or vanished into the back kitchen.
At first, she dismissed it as paranoia. But when she caught a man across the street — a figure in a dark coat, watching the hotel entrance too intently before ducking behind a lamppost — her breath hitched.
She hurried inside, heart pounding.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
Later that evening, the dining hall was buzzing. A new investor was scheduled to visit — big news whispered between staff with equal parts curiosity and dread. Yinlin barely paid attention until the elevator chimed and out walked the man himself.
Her heart stopped.
Xu Tao.
But this time he wasn't cloaked in the casual arrogance of a flirtatious customer. He was dressed in sharp authority: tailored charcoal suit, gold cufflinks, and the kind of silence that commanded respect. The hotel manager trailed behind him nervously, pointing things out with an over-eager smile.
Yinlin froze behind the counter.
He saw her.
And smiled — not the lazy grin of seduction, but the slow, deliberate expression of a man who had just made his move.
He walked straight up to the table. The same seat as last time.
The same intensity in his gaze.
"I told you we'd see each other again," he said smoothly. "This time, under more... permanent terms."
Yinlin's lips parted, but no words came out. She stepped forward automatically, training clashing with instinct. "You're the new investor?"
"One of them," Tao replied, sipping from a glass the manager had just poured him. "They wanted someone who understood hospitality. I told them I preferred to own the table rather than sit at it."
Her stomach twisted. This couldn't be real.
"Why?" she whispered before she could stop herself.
Tao didn't pretend to misunderstand. "Because fate cheated me once. I don't intend to let it do so again."
He took another sip, eyes never leaving hers.
"From now on," he added, "I'll be around more often. Watching. Investing. Overseeing."
His tone darkened, something cold flickering in the depths of his voice.
"Making sure... nothing else gets forgotten."
Yinlin's breath hitched. Memories tangled with fear and confusion. What did he really want from her? Whose ghost was he chasing in her?
As Tao leaned back, the manager nervously cleared his throat. "Mr. Xu, if you'll excuse me, I have reports to prepare."
Tao nodded curtly. As the manager retreated, his gaze remained fixed on Yinlin.
She forced herself to turn away, to dive into clearing plates and refilling glasses, but her hands trembled.
Was this the beginning of a storm she couldn't escape?
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
By the time Yinlin returned home, the sky outside had darkened into a slate-grey hush. She forced a small smile as she stepped into the apartment.
"Mei?" she called softly.
"In the living room," came the reply — not from her daughter, but from the teen who often watched over her. Lili, seventeen and reliable, glanced up from her phone. "She's drawing. Ate all her noodles too."
Yinlin nodded gratefully, fishing out a few crumpled bills from her apron pocket. "Thank you. I'll try to get next week's in advance."
"No rush," Lili said with a shrug, taking the money anyway. "Your kid's sweet. Doesn't cry or break stuff."
Yinlin managed a grateful smile, though her stomach was coiled tight.
She crouched beside the low coffee table where Mei sat with crayons scattered like candy. "Did you miss me?"
Mei beamed. "Mama, I drew you something. It's a flower garden. You're the tall one." Her small fingers tapped on a pink stick figure.
Yinlin kissed her forehead, letting that moment anchor her. "It's beautiful, baby."
But as Mei turned back to her drawing, Yinlin's eyes shifted to the entryway table — and her chest sank.
A pile of unopened envelopes waited for her. Plain, stamped, threatening in their silence.
She picked one up, hands trembling. Another notice from the landlord. Final reminder: Rent overdue. Electricity bills. Maintenance costs.
The others were just as bleak. She pressed them to her chest, shutting her eyes for a second longer than necessary.
Xu Tao's voice echoed in her head: I'll be around more often. Watching. Investing. Making sure... nothing else gets forgotten.
A bitter chill crept up her spine. This wasn't coincidence. It was a tightening noose.
And for the first time since she woke up in that hospital room years ago, Yinlin felt truly afraid.
Not for herself.
But for Mei.