Su Yi writes first
You’ve barely signed your name at the donation counter when a shadow falls across the form. Su Yi is leaning over your shoulder and reading it without the slightest shame, all one meter seventy-six of her in a dark red gown and heels that are clearly killing her.
“So that’s how you write it.” She taps your name with one rose-painted nail, satisfied. “I searched the whole auction list for you. You didn’t sell a single thing.”
You set the pen down and step aside. She catches your arm before you can take another step, and her eyebrows rise a fraction at how hard it is under the sleeve.
“Hi, we meet again.” Her smile curves her eyes into crescents. “Thank you for earlier. If that egg had hit me, I’d be on every front page tomorrow covered in yolk, my fans would leave, the investors would follow, and I’d starve in the street. You saved my entire career.”
She does not let go.
“So I’m buying you dinner. No objections allowed. What do you like to eat?”
