Chapter 16: Coastal Whispers
Dawn painted the kitchen gold as my mother packed enough provisions for a military campaign - two thermoses of water, scallion pancakes, pickled vegetables, smoked fish jerky. "Typical Chinese moms," I muttered when Shangguan Zhi arrived with identical containers. His driver David became our reluctant pack mule, shoulders sagging under culinary artillery.
At the bike rental shack, the manager eyed our group suspiciously. "Foreigner rates apply," he declared, completely missing that three of us weren't local. I shot Shangguan a warning glance - his ability to pass as Chinese depended entirely on keeping that aristocratic mouth shut.
"Three locals, one visitor," I bartered, nodding at David. "Double deposit, standard rate." The man relented, though his squint suggested he knew we'd gamed the system.
We hit Binhai Road with summer warmth kissing our cheeks. The upgraded coastal route now featured whimsical topiary - stone dolphins mid-leap, bronze cows grazing asphalt meadows. At Beida Bridge, He Yi's husband frowned. "Why name it after northern Kyushu?"
"Because 'Big North Bridge' sounds like a bad martial arts flick," I deadpanned. Shangguan's quiet chuckle behind me sent unexpected warmth down my spine.
Yanwo Ridge stopped us cold. "My grandfather's watching the tides here," I explained at the cliffside vista. David crossed himself solemnly while Shangguan's gaze turned stormy. "You never mentioned family graves."
"Why would I?" The words came sharper than intended. His fleeting wounded look puzzled me - since when did my lineage matter to him?
We pedaled past Silver Beach's memory lane. "Dad and I used to bike here every Sunday," I told David. "Golden Beach was our Everest." He Yi sighed wistfully. "Father-daughter goals."
Lunch unfolded on a smuggled picnic mat, mothers' culinary rivalry on full display. Shangguan startled when I offered him a pancake slice. "You call him Shangguan?" He Yi smirked. "What should I call him? Mr. CEO?" My retort earned a noodle-snort from the man himself.
The afternoon sun worked its magic. Before I knew it, Shangguan's head rested heavy on my lap, his breathing deepening into sleep rhythms. He Yi's raised eyebrow promised endless teasing later. I adjusted my jacket over him, surprised by his vulnerability - this corporate titan reduced to a jetlagged child by sea breezes.
His fingers interlaced with mine during drowsy wakefulness. "Don't," I protested weakly as we packed up. "Your spine needs proper support."
He Yi stage-whispered, "Be nicer to your human pillow!" I glared, ignoring how his lingering warmth still tingled through my jeans.
At Xinghai Park's threshold, golden hour gilding the exhibition tents, Shangguan caught my wrist. "Come upstairs. Something to show you."
"Can't it wait for Tokyo?" I hedged, already dreading our impending return to reality.
His thumb brushed my pulse point. "Some gifts expire."
The unspoken hung between us like the gulls wheeling overhead - fragile, beautiful, destined to crash against rocky shores.