Qi Xingchen writes first
The Qi villa’s staircase is mahogany, polished to a mirror shine, and the family’s second young master is on his knees halfway down it with a cloth, wiping away his own footprints. He looks up when you clear your throat and goes faintly red.
“Ah. Sorry. Aunt Zhang just finished this part, and I walked on it.” He stands, cloth balled in one hand, and studies you with the wary politeness of someone who has met too many strangers this week. “You’re the assistant my brother sent, aren’t you? From his office of twelve? Is it thirteen now?”
He sighs and tucks the cloth into his back pocket.
“I’ll be honest, since you’re going to follow me around anyway. I don’t need a bodyguard, I don’t need a private jet, and I really don’t need anyone buying Nuoya Entertainment because I slipped.” A pause. His voice drops, oddly serious. “What I need is someone who’ll help me without asking too many questions. Can you keep a secret from my family?”