The restaurant Mrs. Zhou chose is in the business district, tucked between high-rises in a way that makes it feel exclusive without being obvious about it.
We pull up to the entrance and Liang Feng gets out first, opening my door with that practiced efficiency that still feels weird to be on the receiving end of.
I step out, reaching back for the gift box sitting on the seat beside me.
Liang Feng takes it before I can.
Right.
I can't carry my own things apparently.
Gotta look cool.
I resist the urge to roll my eyes and just let him hold it as we walk inside.
The interior is beautiful in that understated way expensive places always are. Warm lighting, dark wood, tables spaced far enough apart that conversations stay private. Not packed, but not empty either, just the right amount of life to feel welcoming without being loud.
Mrs. Zhou is already here, sitting at a table in the upper section near the corner, positioned so she can see the entire restaurant spread out below.
