The modest apartment on the fourth floor of Block 7, Lok Fu Street, was alive with warmth and the comforting clutter of a lived-in home. The scent of jasmine tea mingled with the faint aroma of freshly steamed char siu bao, a small comfort amid the daily bustle.
Outside, the city's relentless noise was a distant murmur, muffled by thick curtains and the hum of an old fan.
Tan Meilin moved swiftly through the cramped kitchen, her hands deftly arranging the last of the steamed buns on a plate.
Her bright eyes sparkled with a mixture of determination and gentle humor, a stark contrast to the delicate, refined presence of her mother seated at the small dining table.
The elder woman, Madam Tan, was a revered matchmaker whose reputation stretched far beyond their humble neighborhood.
Her posture was straight, her hands folded neatly on her lap, and her eyes held a quiet wisdom earned from decades of reading the intricate dance of fate and human hearts.
"Mei, don't forget the tea leaves," Madam Tan reminded softly, her voice calm but firm. "A proper match requires patience and respect for tradition."
Meilin rolled her eyes playfully but obeyed, pouring hot water over the fragrant leaves with practiced grace. "I know, Ma. I know. But sometimes I think you enjoy all the fuss more than the matches themselves."
Madam Tan smiled, a rare softness touching her features. "It is not the fuss, Mei, but the hope. Every match is a thread in the tapestry of life. Even when the threads seem tangled, they can still weave a beautiful pattern."
Meilin set the tea on the table and sat down beside her mother, her expression turning serious. "Speaking of threads, have you heard from the Chia family? I know they've been contacting you about their heir."
Madam Tan's face tightened slightly, a shadow crossing her usually serene demeanor. "Yes. The Chia family elders have asked for my help. It is a great honor, but also a great responsibility. Their fortune is said to be waning, and they believe a 'lucky match' can restore it."
Meilin frowned. "A lucky match? Isn't that just superstition?"
Her mother's eyes met hers steadily. "In our work, Mei, luck and fate are as real as the choices we make. The Chia family's beliefs run deep. They trust that the right union can bring harmony not just to two people, but to an entire lineage."
Meilin sighed, running a hand through her dark hair. "I get it. But I worry about you. This kind of matchmaking, especially for such a powerful family, must be exhausting."
Madam Tan reached out, squeezing her daughter's hand gently. "I have done this for many years. But this time… it feels different. The stakes are higher. And I am not as strong as I once was."
Meilin's heart clenched. She knew her mother had been struggling with her health lately, though Madam Tan never spoke of it openly. The matchmaker's eyes, usually so sharp and clear, sometimes clouded with fatigue.
Suddenly, Meilin's phone vibrated sharply on the table. The screen lit up with the name "Madam Ling – Chia Group."
Her pulse quickened. She glanced at her mother, who gave a faint nod of encouragement.
Meilin answered, but before she could speak, a sudden cough wracked her mother's body. Madam Tan's face paled, and she slumped forward, unconscious before Meilin could catch her.
Panic surged through Meilin as she dropped the phone and caught her mother's limp form. Her hands trembled as she checked for a pulse, weak but present.
Her breath hitched as she fumbled for her phone again, dialing 999 with shaking fingers.
"Hello? Ambulance! My mother has fainted! Tan Apartment, 4th Floor, Block 7, Lok Fu Street!" Her voice was urgent, trembling, but clear.
The operator's calm reassurances barely registered as Meilin knelt beside her mother, holding her cold hand and whispering, "Ma, please wake up. Don't leave me. Please."
Tears spilled down her cheeks, blurring the room as she watched her mother's shallow breaths.
***
The wail of the ambulance siren pierced the quiet street, a bittersweet promise of help.
When the paramedics arrived, the small apartment felt suffocatingly cramped. They moved quickly, attaching oxygen tubes and checking vital signs.
Meilin explained her mother's recent exhaustion and the sudden collapse, her voice breaking with worry.
"Her blood pressure is dangerously low," one paramedic said gravely. "We need to take her to the hospital immediately."
Meilin nodded numbly, torn between the urge to follow and the nagging worry about the shop and the matchmaking business left unattended. But all else faded in the face of her mother's fragile state.
"I'll come as soon as I can, Ma," she whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to her mother's pale forehead. "I promise."
As the ambulance doors closed and the vehicle sped away, the apartment felt hollow and cold. The faint scent of char siu bao lingered, now a painful reminder of normalcy disrupted.
Meilin's gaze fell on a shattered teacup on the carpet, white porcelain fragments scattered like broken dreams.
She knelt slowly, hands trembling as she gathered the pieces. The largest shard, shaped like an imperfect chrysanthemum, she held tightly, her sobs quiet but wrenching.
The weight of responsibility pressed on her, her mother's legacy, the matchmaking role she was about to inherit, and the looming task of arranging a marriage that could change the fate of one of the most powerful families in the city.
Yet beneath the fear and uncertainty, a spark of resolve ignited. Meilin was not just a daughter in crisis, she was a matchmaker in training, ready to step into the shadows her mother left behind.
The path ahead was uncertain, fraught with challenges and ancient expectations, but she would face it head-on.
Because fate, she knew, was not just about luck, it was about the courage to weave the threads, no matter how tangled they seemed.