CH-10 No red policy

The elevator ride down was quiet—until her phone pinged again.

Wu Jian:

You're invited to tonight's formal dinner with the Lin Foundation. 7 p.m. sharp. Black tie. RSVP unnecessary.

A second message followed.

Also:

No red.

Liu Xin blinked.

No red?

Before she could even begin spiraling into a million color-coded questions, her phone rang.

"Did you just get an ominous message from your boss about dinner and colors?" asked Yao Yao, her best friend and fellow drama analyst.

"Yes. He banned red like it's cursed fabric," Liu Xin muttered, ducking into her office.

Yao Yao gasped dramatically. "Wait, isn't that the color his parents—? Oh. Ohhh."

Liu Xin winced. "Yeah. The accident. The one where they were wearing red."

"Poor guy. He must be bracing himself for a landmine of triggers tonight. And he's bringing you? Girl, you're in."

"Yao Yao—"

"No, listen. Men like him don't do casual plus-ones. He could've picked any corporate mannequin in PR. But he picked you. The girl with pork buns and chaotic parents."

Liu Xin looked down at her phone again.

The "No red" part wasn't corporate etiquette. That was personal.

And he'd trusted her to understand it.

---

At 6:45 p.m., Liu Xin stood outside the glittering Lin Foundation ballroom, tugging self-consciously at the hem of her navy-blue dress.

It wasn't her fanciest gown—just sleek, simple satin with an asymmetrical neckline and a thigh-high slit that felt way more daring than she meant it to be. Her hair was pinned loosely, framing her face in waves. She hadn't worn any red, not even on her nails.

When Wu Jian arrived, the crowd parted.

He was dressed in a tailored black tuxedo with a dark gray tie and no boutonnière. His hair was slightly tousled, as if he'd run a hand through it on the drive over. His eyes scanned the room until they landed on her—and held.

"Good evening," he said.

"You clean up well," she replied before she could stop herself.

His mouth twitched. "You look... unexpected."

"Is that your way of saying 'not horrible'?"

"It's my way of saying I'm glad you came."

That shut her up.

He offered his arm. "Shall we?"

The dinner was already in full swing by the time they stepped inside. Liu Xin instantly recognized half the faces from news articles and finance magazines. Industry giants. Legacy heirs. Old-money sharks in pearls.

"Smile," Wu Jian murmured as he leaned closer. "You're about to be introduced as our lead strategist for the gala."

"Wait, what?"

Too late. They were already being pulled toward a table of donors.

"This is Liu Xin," he said simply, without looking at anyone else. "She's the mind behind our new event direction."

Not assistant. Not coordinator. Not "part of the team."

The mind.

Liu Xin straightened unconsciously. "It's an honor," she said, trying to sound like someone who hadn't once stapled her sleeve to a board proposal.

People smiled, nodded. Someone mentioned they were excited about the shadow dancers. Another asked about donation incentives. She answered as smoothly as she could, all while trying not to glance at Wu Jian too often.

He was calm. Polished. But his fingers tapped once—twice—against his wine glass when someone in a red cocktail dress walked by.

She noticed. And nudged his leg gently beneath the table.

He blinked and glanced at her.

"Sorry," she whispered. "Didn't mean to kick you."

"You didn't," he murmured.

A faint silence passed between them, just long enough for him to steady himself again.

---

Later, over dessert, Qiao An arrived.

Of course she did.

Wearing silver sequins and a smile that sparkled more than the chandeliers. She greeted the table politely, then turned to Wu Jian.

"I didn't expect you to attend tonight," she said softly.

"I wasn't planning to," he said.

"And yet here you are." Her gaze slid to Liu Xin. "With… good company."

Liu Xin smiled, all teeth. "The bento box worked. We figured it deserved a follow-up."

Qiao An's lashes fluttered, but her smile didn't falter. "How charming. I suppose some men prefer… warmth."

She turned to greet someone else before Liu Xin could respond, but the barb lingered in the air.

Wu Jian reached for his wine, but didn't drink it. His fingers hovered for a moment before he let the glass go.

"You okay?" she asked quietly.

He didn't answer right away.

Then, almost inaudibly: "You're the first person I've brought to one of these."

Liu Xin's breath caught.

"Oh."

"I don't like events like this. Or red. Or memories."

"Noted," she said, her voice softer now. "We'll ban all three next time."

He looked at her then, something unreadable in his eyes.

"There might be a next time?"

She hesitated—then gave him the same answer he'd once given her, back when he was telling her his past in the silence.

"Maybe," she said.

---

By the time the dinner ended, her cheeks hurt from smiling, her heels hurt from standing, and her brain hurt from decoding every sideways glance from Qiao An.

In her mind "Huh!..Qiao An! You witch how dare she looks at me during this!" She sighed and drink water to soothe herself.

She stand up after the board members leave to get to her cab,

But then Wu Jian walked her to her cab himself.

"You did well tonight," he said.

"Because I didn't trip into the soup?"

"Because you made me feel like I could breathe."

She blinked at him.

"Thank you," he said. "For wearing blue."

She didn't know what to say to that.

So she smiled. "You're welcome. For the record, I also banned red nail polish and lipstick. That's sacrifice."

His lips twitched. "Noted."

The driver honked once, gently.

"Goodnight, Mr.Wu Jian," she said, stepping into the cab.

He hesitated. Then bent down, leaning just close enough for her to hear:

"Tell your mother I'm free for lunch next weekend."

Her face was slightly flushed by the sudden leaning and whispering though wu jian doesn't see it.

The door closed.

And Liu Xin didn't stop smiling the entire ride home.

---