Chapter Nineteen: Who Is the Landlord?

It was an evening, a few days later.

Yu Ling was returning home from work. As she stepped out of the elevator and reached the door of 1601, she reached for her keys just as the door to 1602 opened. A young woman with a gentle temperament, dressed in silk loungewear with her hair loosely pinned up, stepped out holding an exquisitely wrapped gift box. Upon seeing Yu Ling, her eyes brightened, and she offered a friendly smile.

"Hello, are you Ms. Yu from 1601?" the woman asked, her voice soft and pleasant.

"Oh, yes, I am," Yu Ling replied, taken aback, pausing her movements.

"Wonderful! I live next door, my surname is Su." The woman walked over and handed the gift box to Yu Ling, her smile tinged with apology. "I am so sorry; the delivery person mixed up the apartment numbers and dropped this off at my place. I saw the recipient was Yu Ling at 1601 and figured it must be yours."

Yu Ling looked down at the box. It was small but elegantly packaged—a deep blue, rigid cardboard box tied with a silver-gray ribbon. On the ribbon was a minimalist, elegant gold-embossed logo: Hermès. A delivery label was affixed to one corner, confirming her name and address.

Hermès? Yu Ling was stunned. She hadn’t bought anything so expensive recently. Could Zhao Chen have bought it?

"Thank you, Ms. Su!" Yu Ling hurriedly took the box. It was heavy, with a remarkable quality to it.

"You're very welcome, it was no trouble at all." Ms. Su smiled, her gaze lingering on Yu Ling for a moment with a hint of subtle, friendly curiosity. "You haven't been here long, have you? I haven't seen you before. I'm Su Wan, and my husband’s surname is Gu; he runs a small business." She introduced herself naturally, her tone warm and approachable.

Surname Gu? Yu Ling vaguely remembered Zhao Chen mentioning that their neighbors worked in finance. It seemed they were understatedly wealthy as well.

"My name is Yu Ling, I moved in about three months ago," Yu Ling replied politely.

"Nice to meet you, Xiao Yu." Su Wan nodded with a smile. Her eyes swept over the plastic convenience store bag in Yu Ling’s hand and her plain work attire, then shifted to the striking Hermès box. There was no disdain in her eyes, only a sort of benevolent tolerance. "Do come by for a visit sometime; it gets quite lonely at home by myself."

"I will, Ms. Su," Yu Ling replied, feeling a positive impression of her gentle neighbor.

After a few more pleasantries, Su Wan returned to 1602, and Yu Ling opened her door and went inside.

Zhao Chen had not returned yet. Yu Ling put away her convenience store groceries, then sat on the living room sofa with the heavy Hermès box. She untied the ribbon and opened it.

Inside lay a neatly folded silk scarf. The pattern featured Hermès’s classic "Jungle Love" theme, rich in color and exotic flair, the silk as delicate and smooth as a second skin. Beside it was a small card with Zhao Chen’s fluid, bold handwriting:

*Lingling:*
*Passed by the window and thought these colors would suit you.*
*Zhao Chen*

Yu Ling’s fingers brushed over the cool, smooth fabric of the scarf, and a tingling warmth bloomed in her heart, as if she had been lightly grazed by a feather. This man was always like this, infiltrating her life with quiet, gentle persistence, wrapping the simplest intentions in the most luxurious manifestations.

She picked up her phone, intending to text him a thank you. Her fingertips hovered over the screen for a moment before she finally set it down. She carefully refolded the scarf and placed it back in the box. Her gaze landed on the plastic convenience store bag, and she recalled the gentle, accepting look in Su Wan’s eyes earlier...

An indescribable, complex emotion welled up within her. In this apartment complex, inside the "ordinary" fortress Zhao Chen had so meticulously constructed, she felt like an intruder—or perhaps a carefully kept... canary?

This thought reached its peak one weekend afternoon a few days later.

For once, both Yu Ling and Zhao Chen were home resting. Sunlight bathed the living room through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows. Zhao Chen, wearing a little whale-patterned apron, was in the kitchen experimenting with a new recipe, while Yu Ling was curled up on the sofa reading, a gray-blue blanket draped over her knees, with a cup of fruit tea in a Bernardaud bone china mug that Zhao Chen had prepared for her.

The doorbell rang.

Yu Ling got up to answer it. Standing outside was a middle-aged man in a crisp suit carrying an exquisite insulated case, looking professional and capable. Behind him stood a young assistant in uniform pushing a small flatbed cart.

"Hello, Ms. Yu." The middle-aged man offered a polished smile and bowed slightly. "I am the manager of Yu Shan Fang, my surname is Zhou. The afternoon tea ordered by Mr. Zhao has arrived." He gestured toward the insulated case and the cart behind his assistant, which was draped in a white cloth and held a three-tiered pastry stand.

Yu Shan Fang?! Yu Ling’s heart skipped a beat. It was the city’s most exclusive private dining establishment, which only accepted members and was so legendary that even the mayor reportedly had to wait in line for a table. Their afternoon tea was notoriously exquisite and hard to come by!

"Please, come in." Yu Ling quickly stepped aside, stunned by the realization of when Zhao Chen had ordered this.

Manager Zhou and his assistant moved efficiently, spreading a pristine white tablecloth over the large natural-wood dining table. With the solemnity of a ritual, they arranged the three-tiered gilded enamel pastry stand, the matching bone china tea set, and crystal plates filled with various delicate pastries.

Swan-shaped cream puffs, gold-leaf-dusted macarons, rose-shaped mousses, and translucent shrimp dumplings and *siu mai*... each piece was a work of art, emitting a tempting, sweet fragrance and a gentle warmth.

"Mr. Zhao, Ms. Yu, your afternoon tea is ready. Please enjoy." Manager Zhou placed the final item, bowed respectfully, and retreated with his assistant, leaving as silently as if they had never appeared.

Yu Ling looked at the luxurious spread, worthy of a five-star hotel presidential suite, and then at Zhao Chen, who was emerging from the kitchen wearing his little whale apron and holding a plate of freshly baked, butter-scented scones.

The stark contrast left her speechless.

Zhao Chen placed the scones on the table, noticing Yu Ling’s dazed expression. He offered a gentle smile, his tone as casual as if he were mentioning buying a milk tea downstairs. "It's the new afternoon tea set from Yu Shan Fang. A friend gave me some vouchers, might as well use them. Try their scones; they are exceptional with clotted cream and jam."

As he spoke, he naturally picked up the bone china teapot and poured her a cup of fragrant Darjeeling tea.

Sunlight, gourmet food, the man she loved. Everything was so beautiful it felt unreal.

Yu Ling picked up a warm scone, spread it with a thick layer of clotted cream and strawberry jam, and took a bite. It was flaky, sweet, and melted in her mouth—so delicious it made her want to sigh. Yet, the restless doubts in the back of her mind bubbled up again like air in water.

"Zhao Chen." She set down the half-eaten scone and looked up, meeting the eyes of the man across from her who was elegantly slicing a rose mousse. Her voice was quiet, but carried an unprecedented seriousness. "Tell me the truth."

Zhao Chen’s hand paused. He looked up at her, his amber eyes exceptionally clear and warm in the sunlight.

"This place we live in," Yu Ling said, glancing around the sun-drenched living room filled with understated luxury, her gaze sweeping over the top-tier furniture, appliances, and tableware before landing back on Zhao Chen’s face. "The security suddenly upgraded to the level of special forces, our neighbor leaves in a Rolls-Royce Phantom, the property management mixes up a delivery and it turns out to be Hermès, and even our afternoon tea is delivered by a private team from Yu Shan Fang... Is this really just because our 'landlord has broad connections'?"

She paused, took a deep breath, and asked the question that had been circling in her heart for so long, clearly and word for word:

"Who is your 'landlord' exactly? Or rather... who are you, really?"