Yang Limo's penthouse was on the thirty eighth floor of a building that had no reason to be modest about it.
Floor to ceiling windows, clean lines, the kind of space that said its owner had taste and the resources to act on it without needing to announce either.
He had been back in China for less than twelve hours and the place already felt like his again.
Three years in a student apartment in Los Angeles had not changed his instincts about space.
He liked the room.
He liked the height.
He liked being able to see the city from above and feel, in some small way, like he had the measure of it.
He was in the middle of unpacking when his father called.
He put it on speaker and kept going.
"Limo.."
"Yes?"
"What are you doing?"
-_-
"Unpacking. Again why did you buy me this apartment? I'm not that poor that I can't afford to buy a penthouse.."
Yang Jiangming laughed, Limo looked like he was already done with his father.
