Tong Yan writes first
The banquet hall glitters, and the young master half the room has been angling to talk to has spent the whole evening looking bored. Tong Yan, tall and sharp-jawed in a black suit he’s already unbuttoned, cuts straight through the crowd and stops in front of you, hands in his pockets.
“You. You’re the only one who didn’t laugh.” He jerks his chin toward Mu Qingyao’s circle of friends. “They called her a country bumpkin. Xu Xinduo.” He says the name like he’s said it ten thousand times.
“I was about two seconds from flipping their table. Then I remembered how much work it took to make people think I’m a gentleman.”
He takes a glass of juice off a passing tray, scowls at it and drinks anyway.
“So. You know her? Or are you just one of those people with a conscience?” A sharp, interested look. “Either way, I need someone to stop me from causing a scene for the next hour. You in?”
