Turning a City into Her Own Living Room

The courtyard house's renovation plan went through seven versions before the final one was settled. Su Jin reviewed it on her phone at the construction site of the Dali guesthouse.

The designer's surname was Sun. Shen Che had introduced him; he had graduated from the Academy of Arts & Design, Tsinghua University and spent three years in Italy studying the restoration of historic buildings. After returning to China, he specialized in renovating old houses. He was not particularly well known in the field, but his work was exceptionally meticulous.

The plan's central idea could be summed up in one sentence: restore the old to its original appearance, and tuck modern life inside the shell of an old building.

Not a single weathered gray brick in the courtyard was replaced. Instead, craftspeople specializing in historic restoration cleaned, filled, and reinforced them one by one, turning the pits and cracks left by a century of wind and rain into the grain of time.

The faded paintings on the beams and crossbeams were not repainted, either. They received only the lightest dusting and protective treatment. The indistinct clouds, flowers, and birds appeared and vanished in the shifting light, like something from another era seen through a thin veil of mist.

The wraparound covered walkway was repaved with the same kind of bluestone slabs as before, brought from an old mining area in Shanxi. Each slab was molded and fired anew to match the dimensions and thickness of the old ones that remained.

The doors and windows of the main house were replaced with double glazing. The outer layer had antique-style latticework, while the inner layer used modern soundproofing and insulation. From outside, they looked exactly as they had before. Once shut, they immediately blocked out the traffic and voices in the hutong, leaving only the faint sound of wind in the courtyard and the occasional call of a bird.

The interior, by contrast, was simple.

Three of the partitions between the main house's five rooms had been removed, creating one enormous living space. Only a few golden-thread nanmu pillars stood where divisions were needed.

The floor was laid with the same golden bricks used in the Forbidden City. They were not made of real gold, but were the square bricks fired at the Suzhou Imperial Kiln. Their texture was as fine as black jade; footsteps made no sound on them, and they felt smooth and warm underfoot.

The furniture was old rosewood sourced from Fujian and Guangdong, restored and polished by veteran craftspeople, then fitted with custom ivory silk cushions. It was equal parts rustic and comfortable.

The study was at the easternmost end of the main house. Its wall-spanning bookcase had been handmade by woodcarvers from Dongyang, its flowers and birds layered in intricate patterns that never looked cluttered;

The desk was a single great slab of rosewood, holding only a Duan inkstone, a Hu brush, and a small bronze incense burner.

The western wing had been converted into a tea room, with woven rush mats laid over the tatami. The window looked straight out at the old pomegranate tree in the courtyard.

The eastern wing was the dining room. An old elm dining table, two meters long, could seat twelve. Above it hung a custom glass pendant light from Italy, blown into an irregular circle like a crumpled moon.

The rear building housed the bedroom and dressing room. The bedroom's bed had been made from the frame of an old canopy bed, retaining its carved lintel and rails, with a Hästens mattress inside. Old and new had reached a delicate balance in that space.

The garden lay behind the last courtyard. It was small but exquisitely arranged.

There was a rockery made of Taihu stones and a small pond, with a few koi swimming in it and several water lily leaves floating on the surface.

A row of green bamboo grew along the base of the wall, still green in winter and rustling whenever the wind blew.

A stone lantern stood in the corner of the wall. It had been brought over specially from Kyoto, Japan, and when it was lit at night, its light was as gentle as a layer of gauze.

On the day the renovation was completed, Su Jin went there in person.

She stood in the middle of the courtyard, looking at the old pomegranate tree. Its trunk was so thick it took two people to put their arms around it, and its bare branches stretched into the winter sky, though one could imagine how lush they would be in summer.

Sunlight filtered through the branches, casting dappled shadows on the gray-brick ground. A faint scent of wood came from the old furniture and timber, mingling with the smell of soil and plants in the courtyard and bringing an inexplicable sense of peace.

[Host,] Little Golden Egg said, poking half a head out from behind her shoulder, [do you like it?]

Su Jin did not speak. She simply stood under the pomegranate tree, looking up at the branches reaching toward the sky.

She remembered that many years ago, there had been a pomegranate tree in the orphanage's back courtyard, too. Every autumn it had been laden with bright red fruit. The children had raced to pick them, but she had never managed to beat the others and could only gather the ones that had split open on the ground. Their seeds had still been sweet.

"I like it," she said with a smile.

Zhou Ye came through the ornamental gate, carrying a bunch of keys.

He handed them to her. There were twelve in all, made of copper and heavy in her hand, each one corresponding to a door in the courtyard house.

"President Su, all the keys are here."

Su Jin took them and weighed them in her palm. The copper felt smooth and heavy.

She slipped them into her pocket and turned to leave.

"Come on," she said. "Let's go to Dali."

II

Three days later, Shuanglang, Dali.

When Su Jin stepped off the private jet, the sunshine in Dali was just right, spreading bright and dazzling across the entire tarmac.

She wore an embroidered cotton maxi dress from Ulla Johnson that day. Tiny blue flowers covered its creamy white fabric, and its wide skirt moved like a drifting cloud when she walked. Over it she wore an oversized oatmeal-colored Loewe wool coat, loose enough to fit two of her, yet effortlessly stylish on her.

On her feet were Ancient Greek leather sandals. Although it was winter, the midday temperature in Dali was eighteen degrees, just right for sandals.

Her hair was in a loose side braid over her left shoulder, with a thin dark-green velvet ribbon tied at the end, unexpectedly echoing the tiny blue flowers on her dress.

A pair of Marlo Laz pearl earrings hung from her ears. The vintage baroque pearls were each irregularly shaped, glowing with a soft iridescence in the sunlight.

On her wrist was a watch from the Hermès Cape Cod Collection, its double-wrap strap wound around her wrist. The silver-white face was so understated it was almost invisible, but anyone in the know could recognize it at a glance.

Shen Mingwei and Lin Man were already waiting at the exit.

Shen Mingwei wore a sharp camel-colored Max Mara suit. Her hair was a little longer than the last time they had met, tucked behind her ears, and she looked capable enough to hold a board meeting at any moment.

Lin Man wore a relaxed white Chloé cotton-and-linen shirt with wide-leg trousers. In her hand was a bouquet freshly picked from the growing base: Dali wintersweet and winter cherry blossoms tied together, yellow and pink, with a faint fragrance.

"President Su," Shen Mingwei said as she came forward, using the title out of habit even though Su Jin had told her many times to use her name. "The car's outside. Shall we go straight to the inn?"

Su Jin nodded, took the flowers from Lin Man, and lowered her head to smell them.

The wintersweet had a crisp, sweet fragrance. The winter cherry blossoms were subtler; together, they smelled like the winter wind in Dali.

"How's the base coming along?" she asked Lin Man.

Lin Man's eyes lit up. She took Su Jin's arm and began telling her: the first batch of seedlings at the flower-growing base had been planted, with more than twenty varieties, mostly local flowers alongside some new varieties imported from France and Japan. The first harvest was expected in three months. The floral design for the inn had also been finalized, with seven themes for seven courtyards: one in white and green, one in pink and purple, one in warm autumn colors, and another dedicated to a wildflower style, combining flowers from the local hills in a rugged yet powerful arrangement.

Su Jin listened and nodded, occasionally asking a question or smiling.

She noticed that Lin Man seemed to glow all over when she talked about flowers. That kind of focus and love could not be faked.

The car followed the lakeside road toward Shuanglang.

The scenery outside the window was as it had always been: Cangshan Mountain on the left, with a little more snow on its summit than on her last visit, and Erhai Lake on the right, its surface shimmering as a few gulls circled low over the water.

Most of the winter cherry trees by the road were in bloom. Clusters of pink flowers crowded their branches against the blue sky and white clouds, like a watercolor painting that had not quite dried.

Forty minutes later, the car stopped at the entrance to the seven-building inn.

The moment Su Jin pushed open the car door and stepped out, several staff members standing at the entrance all froze.

They had seen photos of their boss-Shen Mingwei had sent some to the group chat-but the distance between a photograph and the real person was perhaps as wide as the whole of Erhai Lake.

The woman before them wore a creamy white maxi dress, an oatmeal-colored coat draped loosely over her shoulders, and a braid hanging down her chest. With a bouquet of wintersweet and winter cherry blossoms in her hand, she stood in the Dali sunshine as though she had stepped out of a magazine called South of France Holiday.

The first to recover was the manager, a local Yunnan woman in her early thirties surnamed Yang. She had worked at Aman for five years before Shen Mingwei had recruited her away.

She hurried over with a perfectly measured smile. "President Su, welcome home."

Su Jin looked at her and smiled.

"Show me around."

III

The seven courtyards stood in a row along Erhai Lake, each independent yet connected to the others.

Manager Yang showed her through the buildings one by one, explaining as they went: the first was called Viewing the Waves and housed the public areas, including the lobby, restaurant, and coffee bar. Its design made extensive use of floor-to-ceiling glass, and from inside, Erhai Lake lay at their feet.

The second through fourth buildings contained twenty-four guest rooms in total. Each had its own small courtyard planted with different things: osmanthus in some, wintersweet in others, and bougainvillea in still others;

The fifth and sixth buildings held eight suites in total, each with a terrace facing Erhai Lake and the best views;

The seventh building, at the far end, was for the owner's private use and was not open to the public. It had a separate living room, study, bedroom, and small garden.

Su Jin went through them one building at a time, inspecting them carefully.

She felt the guest-room bedding, custom-made by Frette in soft ivory fabric; examined the bathroom amenities, Le Labo's Santal 33, her favorite scent; and tried the lounge chairs on the terraces, woven Dedon models with ergonomic curves that made her reluctant to get up.

When they reached the largest suite on the second floor of the fifth building, she stopped on the terrace.

All of Erhai Lake lay before her, its surface shattered into countless golden pieces by the afternoon sun. In the distance, the outline of Cangshan Mountain was as crisp as if cut with a knife.

A few gulls skimmed over the water, their wings flashing in the sunlight before they vanished at the edge of her view.

"Keep this one for me," she said. "I'll stay here whenever I come."

Behind her, Manager Yang nodded and made a note in her book.

The last stop was Lin Man's flower-growing base. It was on a slope behind the inn, covering twenty mu and divided into dozens of growing areas of various sizes.

Although it was still winter, Dali's climate was mild, and many varieties were already in bloom: wintersweet, winter cherry blossoms, camellias, and magnolias. Early-spring tulips and hyacinths were also being raised in the greenhouse.

Lin Man crouched in the soil and pointed to a patch of newly sprouted plants. "These are Kawazu cherry trees from Japan. They'll bloom next spring. Those are a French rose variety called 'Monet.' The flowers have a gradient of pink, orange, and yellow mixed together. They're especially beautiful."

Su Jin crouched beside her and reached out to touch the tender shoots.

The soil felt damp and soft, and dew still clung to the tips of the shoots, sparkling in the sunlight.

"Senior Sister," she said, "are you happy?"

Lin Man turned to look at her. Her eyes were a little red, but she was smiling. She said, "Xiao Jin, you know, I never imagined that one day I'd have such a large piece of land and grow so many flowers.

"Back at the little shop, I had to count every penny just to bring in imported flowers. Now I can grow whatever I want and arrange them however I like. This kind of freedom makes me even happier than earning money."

Su Jin patted her shoulder and stood up.

"The ribbon-cutting is tomorrow. Are you ready?"

Lin Man nodded vigorously.

IV

At ten the next morning, the ribbon-cutting ceremony was held at the inn's entrance.

It was Su Jin's first time appearing before the public as the owner. Her outfit was more formal than the day before, but it still had Dali's distinctive relaxed air.

She wore an oatmeal-colored Gabriela Hearst cashmere-blend dress with a high neck, fitted but not tight. The hem reached mid-calf, and a small slit at the side gave a glimpse of the curve of her knee as she walked.

Over it was an oversized gray-white wool coat from The Row, reaching her ankles. On her feet were caramel-colored Loro Piana Open Walk ankle boots, their soles soft enough to roll up. They were among the most comfortable shoes she had ever worn.

She wore only one piece of jewelry: a Bird on a Rock brooch from Tiffany & Co.'s Schlumberger collection, pinned to the collar of her coat.

It was a small bird set with platinum and gold, standing on an octagon-cut citrine, its wings slightly spread as though it might fly away at any moment.

Cheng Yan had helped her buy it at Sotheby's the previous week. It was an antique from 1965, with fewer than ten in existence.

Her hair was neither braided nor tied up; she had simply washed and blow-dried it, leaving it loose over her shoulders.

When the Dali wind blew, strands of her hair lifted and turned into golden threads in the sunlight. Her makeup was a little heavier than the day before: a light sweep of apricot eyeshadow at the outer corners of her eyes and Chanel matte liquid lipstick in shade 176, a warm muted red that suited the Dali sunshine perfectly.

Shen Mingwei had invited more than twenty media outlets, some local and some from elsewhere, as well as several national travel and lifestyle magazines.

Seventy or eighty guests attended: fellow guesthouse owners, partners from the tourism industry, Lin Man's friends in the floral world, and several people who had flown in specially from Beijing-Meng Qi, Xu Yanqiu, and Jiang Yao. Even Zhao Yu had sent an assistant to take photographs and gather material.

The ribbon-cutting itself was simple.

Su Jin stood in the middle, with Shen Mingwei and Lin Man on either side, each of the three holding a pair of golden scissors.

Manager Yang read a brief speech beside them, and then the three cut the red ribbon together.

As the applause rang out, Su Jin sensed Meng Qi clapping hard in the crowd, looking at her with shining eyes.

After the ribbon-cutting came an open tour and luncheon.

The luncheon was held in the lobby of the first building, Viewing the Waves. Long tables were adorned with floral arrangements Lin Man had made herself: white hydrangeas, green anthuriums, eucalyptus leaves, and a few branches of wintersweet freshly cut from the base. They stood at varying heights, with a measured balance of dense and open spaces, like a three-dimensional still-life painting.

The dishes were prepared by a team of local Bai chefs from Dali: sour-and-spicy fish, rushan cheese, Erhai Lake shrimp, steamed pork with preserved carved plums, and wild mushroom hot pot. Every dish used the freshest local ingredients, but the plating had the refinement of French cuisine.

Su Jin moved through the crowd with a wineglass, speaking to everyone.

She discussed operating experience with her fellow guesthouse owners, future plans with partners from the tourism industry, and design concepts with reporters. Everyone who spoke with her came away with the same impression-

This woman was not only beautiful, but also intelligent and sincere, and being around her felt like bathing in a spring breeze.

At three in the afternoon, the guests began to leave.

Meng Qi lingered on the terrace, unwilling to go, lying on a lounge chair in the sun with a straw hat over their face.

Xu Yanqiu sat nearby drinking tea, occasionally chatting with Shen Mingwei about investments.

Jiang Yao was taking pictures everywhere, saying she wanted to post an extra-long update on Moments. She had already thought of the title: "I found a heavenly place in Dali."

Su Jin leaned against the railing, looking at Erhai Lake.

The sun had begun to sink westward, scattering fragments of gold across the water. In the distance, the outline of Cangshan Mountain grew ever clearer in the gathering dusk.

Her phone buzzed. It was a message from Zhou Ye: President Su, everything at the courtyard house is finished. I've emailed you the photos.

She replied: Okay.

It buzzed again. This time it was Cheng Yan: The catalog for Poly's spring auction has been delivered to the house. Shen Nian's Place of Return is in it too, with an estimate of eight to twelve million.

She replied: Keep an eye on it for me.

The third message was from Chen Shen: I saw the news. The inn in Dali has opened? Congratulations. That photo of you cutting the ribbon in the middle is unfairly beautiful.

She looked at the message, the corners of her lips curving, and replied with one word: Thanks.

Jiang Yao leaned over from beside her and saw the message. Her eyes lit up. "Chen Shen? Who's that? A man, right? Is he pursuing you?"

Su Jin put her phone away and ignored her.

A muffled chuckle came from beneath Meng Qi's straw hat. "Don't bother asking, Jiang Yao. She won't tell you."

Jiang Yao pursed her lips but did not press further. She went back to taking pictures.

That evening, #Dali Seven Rooms# reached number thirty on Weibo's trending list.

The topic was full of photos from that day's ribbon-cutting: the inn's views of Erhai Lake, Lin Man's floral arrangements, and the Bai chefs' wild mushroom hot pot.

The most reposted image was a profile shot of Su Jin standing on the terrace. She wore the oatmeal-colored Gabriela Hearst dress with The Row's gray-white coat over it, her hair blowing in the wind. The Bird on a Rock brooch at her collar had flashed in the sunlight at just the moment the photographer captured it.

The comments under that Weibo post fell into two camps: one praised the inn, and the other asked, "Who is this woman?"

"It's her again!! Su Jin from Vogue!!"

"A Poly shareholder, owner of a Paris buyer's boutique, and owner of a Dali guesthouse-what kind of heavenly résumé is this?"

"So does she work in hotels? Or investment? Or fashion?"

"She works in 'doing everything and doing everything really well.'"

Su Jin lay in bed scrolling through the comments, a slight smile on her lips. She did not reply to anyone.

V

On the flight back to Beijing from Dali, Su Jin reclined on the bed in the master suite and used her iPad to look at the photos of the completed courtyard house.

Designer Sun had photographed it thoroughly, with close-ups of every detail: the gray-brick courtyard floor, the painted beams and crossbeams of the covered walkway, the golden-thread nanmu pillars in the main house, the rush mats and paper windows in the tea room, the converted old canopy-bed frame in the bedroom, and the stone lantern and green bamboo in the garden.

The last few were night shots. Warm yellow lights glowed in the courtyard, the stone lantern was reflected in the pond, and koi swam slowly beneath the surface, breaking the pool of light and shadow into pieces.

After looking through them, she sent Designer Sun a message: Very good. Thank you.

Designer Sun replied instantly: It's what I should do. When would you have time to come and inspect it, President Su?

She thought for a moment and replied: The day after tomorrow.

The plane passed through the clouds, and the sky outside the window was a transparent blue. She leaned back against the pillow and closed her eyes.

Little Golden Egg squeezed out of the air and floated beside her without speaking, simply keeping her company in silence.

VI

Two days later, Su Jin stood at the entrance to the courtyard house and opened the main gate with the first of the twelve copper keys.

Her outfit that day suited the courtyard. She wore an undyed white linen maxi dress from Zimmermann, with delicate openwork embroidery at the hem and cuffs through which the tone of her skin could be seen in the sunlight.

Over it she wore a light camel-colored Brunello Cucinelli alpaca coat, lighter and warmer than cashmere and as soft to the touch as a cloud. On her feet were dark-brown Church's brogues, their intricate perforations giving them a touch of vintage British style.

Her hair was arranged in a low bun, secured with a Ming-dynasty white jade hairpin.

Cheng Yan had found the hairpin in Poly's storeroom. It was a mid-Qing piece of Hetian white jade, carved into a magnolia bud about to bloom, smooth and finely textured. She had casually taken it to use.

A pair of Vhernier shell-pearl earrings hung from her ears. The Italian brand's design was extremely minimalist, the pearls cut into irregular shapes that swayed gently beside her ears.

Designer Sun was waiting for her by the ornamental gate, with another person standing beside him: Shen Che, who had flown in from Chengdu, saying he had "come to see a friend's work."

Su Jin glanced at him. He smiled, offering no further explanation.

The three of them entered the courtyard.

Su Jin stood beneath the old pomegranate tree, looking up at the daylight filtering through its branches. Sunlight passed through the bare limbs, casting flecks of light and shadow on the blue-brick ground. The golden-brick flooring reflected a soft glow, and the whole courtyard was as still as a meticulous Song-dynasty painting.

"Here," she said, pointing to a spot beside the pomegranate tree. "A stone table and two stone chairs. We can sit here and drink tea in the summer."

Designer Sun immediately made a note in his notebook.

She entered the main house and walked back and forth across the golden-brick floor several times. Her footsteps were completely absorbed, leaving only the soft rustle of fabric in the silence.

She sat in the old rosewood chair, tested the cushion for comfort, nodded, and stood up. In the study, she stopped before the large slab desk of huanghuali wood and ran a hand over its surface. The wood was smooth and warm, its grain as beautiful as an abstract painting.

She lifted the cover of the Duan inkstone. There was no ink in it yet, but the stone was so fine and smooth that it invited a touch of the fingers.

The tea room was where she spent the most time.

She sat down on the tatami and looked at the old pomegranate tree outside the window. Sunlight slanted in, casting a long band of light and shadow across the floor, while the faint, intermittent fragrance of rush matting hung in the air.

Shen Che sat opposite her and poured himself a cup of tea.

"What do you think?" he asked.

Su Jin looked at him and said, "The person you recommended is very good."

Shen Che smiled, a little pleased at the acknowledgment, but said nothing more. He simply raised his teacup and clinked it against hers.

The stone lantern in the garden would only light up at night, but Su Jin could already picture it: night falling, light shining through the lantern onto the surface of the pond, koi swimming beneath the water, bamboo rustling in the wind. She stood in the garden for a long time, then turned and walked out.

"That's everything," she told Designer Sun. "It passes inspection."

Designer Sun breathed a sigh of relief, a smile spreading across his face.

Seven

The day after the courtyard house passed inspection, The Star's Wangfujing boutique officially opened.

Su Jin had barely stopped since returning from Dali, but she was doing better and better. The sunshine and Dali's air had given her skin a clearer glow, and there was no fatigue in her eyes, only a luster polished by a full life. On opening day, she chose a style entirely different from her previous looks.

She wore an embroidered Oscar de la Renta dress that fell a fist's width above her knees. The dress was a deep midnight blue, covered in stars and moons embroidered in gold and silver thread. Its off-the-shoulder neckline exposed her delicate collarbones and shoulders, and two tulle bows at the shoulders fluttered gently as she moved.

The dress was a signature piece from Oscar de la Renta's 2025 resort collection. Only fifteen existed worldwide, and Asia had received just two: one in Shanghai, and the other on her.

She wore no coat over it. Beijing's winter was cold, but it was only a few steps from the car to the store, and she wasn't afraid. On her feet were black patent-leather Christian Louboutin studded heels, twelve centimeters high, their red soles flashing as she walked.

She had chosen jewelry from Buccellati's Opera collection: a white-gold necklace with a flower pendant made in the openwork Tulle technique, tiny diamonds set along the edge of every petal; and a pair of earrings from the same collection to match the necklace;

On the ring finger of her right hand was a ring from the same brand, yellow and white gold woven together like a small length of lace frozen in place.

Her hair was swept up and secured with an antique tortoiseshell comb, revealing her whole face and the pair of Buccellati earrings. Her makeup was heavier than usual: eyeliner tilted slightly upward at the outer corners, smoky dark-brown eyeshadow, and Pat McGrath Labs matte lipstick in Elson, a classic, vintage true red that looked like a burning flame against the midnight-blue dress.

The moment she stepped out of the car at the store entrance, everyone around her fell silent.

Photographers crouched on either side of the red carpet, their flashes turning the scene as bright as day. Someone in the crowd gave a soft gasp, as though something had struck them in the chest.

Su Jin didn't pause. In her twelve-centimeter heels, she walked steadily onto the red carpet as though she had done it countless times before.

Zhao Yu was already at the entrance, wearing a Bottega Veneta woven-leather dress, her short hair combed impeccably into place. She looked as sharp and capable as a freshly honed blade.

When she saw Su Jin, her eyes lit up. Then she smiled and reached out to take her arm.

"You're dazzling today." Zhao Yu leaned close to her ear, her voice very low but her tone utterly sincere.

"I've shot so many covers and seen so many beautiful women, but you're the kind of beautiful people want to keep looking at. Not the kind that stuns you at first glance and that's all, but the kind where you see something new every time."

Su Jin smiled without replying and walked into the store arm in arm with her.

The opening reception was even larger than anticipated.

Store Manager Chen had opened the entire fourth-floor art gallery. The first floor housed ready-to-wear and jewelry, the second held VIP rooms and the bespoke area, the third contained offices and the media reception area, and the fourth was the art gallery, where a small contemporary jewelry exhibition was underway. The pieces had been borrowed from the Paris headquarters; all were one-of-a-kind creations by independent designers, and every one was worth a considerable sum.

More people came than she had imagined.

Zhao Yu brought an entire Vogue team to shoot material, Jiang Yao brought more than a dozen blogger friends to show their support, Meng Qi flew in from Chengdu, and Xu Yanqiu hurried over from Shanghai. Song Huai brought two friends from the film and television industry to "see if there are any opportunities to collaborate." Even Director Cheng came, saying he had "come to show Ms. Su some support."

Surrounded by people, Su Jin made her way from the first floor to the fourth, stopping on every floor to talk, pose for photos, and drink champagne.

Her smile was always just right, neither warm nor cold, like a slender crescent moon hanging in the sky, visible but out of reach.

When she reached the VIP room on the second floor, someone stepped out of the crowd and stood before her.

Ji Yunshen.

He wore a dark-gray Lemaire wool coat over a white cotton shirt, its collar unbuttoned to reveal a small patch of skin below his Adam's apple.

His hair was a little longer than when she had last seen him, his fringe falling slightly over his forehead and making his deep-set eyes look even more serene.

He stood there with a glass of champagne in his hand. Unlike the others, he was in no hurry to speak; he simply looked at her, his gaze calm and intent.

Su Jin looked at him and asked, "What brought you here?"

"Chen Shen sent me," Ji Yunshen said. "He said he couldn't make it, so he asked me to check on you for him." He paused, the corners of his mouth curving slightly. "But I wanted to come and see for myself, too."

Su Jin raised an eyebrow. "See what?"

"You," he said, as casually as if he were remarking on the fine weather. "See what kind of person you really are. Running a hotel in Beijing, a guesthouse in Dali, a boutique in Paris, and studying artificial intelligence at MIT-I wanted to see how one person could do so many things at once and still dress like this for an opening reception."

Su Jin looked at him without speaking.

He went on, "I've looked, and I still haven't figured it out." He raised his champagne glass and clinked it against hers. "But it's very interesting."

His words made Su Jin laugh, an irrepressible smile curving her lips. She raised her glass and took a sip.

Ji Yunshen didn't stay long. After a couple of sips of champagne, he said he had something else to do and left.

At the door, he looked back at her, his gaze resting on her for a second. Then he pushed through the door and disappeared into the crowd.

Eight

The reception lasted until ten at night.

After seeing off the last guests, Su Jin sat on a sofa in the fourth-floor gallery, took off her Christian Louboutins, and rested her bare feet on the carpet.

Store Manager Chen came over carrying two glasses of water and sat down opposite her.

"President Su, more than three hundred people came today. Over forty media outlets reported on it, and social media exposure is estimated at more than twenty million." She paused and looked at Su Jin. "You must be tired?"

Su Jin shook her head and took a sip of water. She leaned back against the sofa and closed her eyes, her face looking especially serene in the gallery's soft light.

Her makeup was still intact, her true-red lips still full, her eyeliner unsmudged. Only a faint trace of fatigue had appeared beneath her eyes.

"Sister Chen," she said, "thank you for all your hard work today."

Store Manager Chen was taken aback for a moment, then smiled and shook her head. "It was no trouble. It's an honor to work on a store like this."

Her phone buzzed with a message from Shen Mingwei: Dali is trending, and bookings have exploded. The next three months are completely booked.

Su Jin looked at the message, smiled slightly, and replied: Good.

It buzzed again. This time it was Cheng Yan: Someone offered fifteen million for Shen Nian's Place of Return. Do you want to sell?

She replied: No.

It buzzed again, with a message from Zhou Ye: President Su, should I take you to the airport tomorrow? Your schedule at MIT has been arranged.

She replied: No need. I'll go myself.

The last message came from the system.

[Host, it's time for today's check-in.]

Su Jin opened her eyes and checked the time on her phone: 10:58. In two minutes, a new day would begin.

She leaned back on the sofa and closed her eyes, waiting for that familiar voice.

[Ten, nine, eight, seven...]

Store Manager Chen didn't know what she was doing, but she didn't disturb her and quietly slipped out.

[Three, two, one-ding!]

[Congratulations, host, on completing your fifty-eighth daily check-in!]

[Today's check-in reward: 51% equity in Huace Starlight Entertainment Media Co., Ltd. (valued at 1.2 billion, equity transfer completed; controlling shareholder with absolute voting rights on the board of directors)]

[Artists under the company: 4 popular actors, 2 high-traffic idols, 3 powerhouse singers, and 12 rookie trainees. The company has its own film and television production team, music production team, and publicity and marketing team. It has produced 7 drama series over the past three years, with a cumulative 18 billion views.]

[Additional unlock: Entertainment Empire resource package: strategic partnership agreements with the three major video platforms, priority purchasing rights with five major satellite TV stations, and an extensive network of close partnerships with more than twenty film and television production companies.]

After listening, Su Jin lay on the sofa for three seconds, then slowly sat up.

A few strands of long hair had come loose from her bun and hung beside her ears, framing a profile that looked all the more fragile with fatigue. She gazed at the night view outside the window. Wangfujing Street was still ablaze with lights in the darkness, while the distant direction of the Forbidden City was pitch-black, save for the lights on a corner tower, like a pearl suspended in the dark.

An entertainment company.

The corners of her mouth curved slightly.

Her empire had grown another piece larger.

[Host,] Little Golden Egg squeezed out of the air and floated in front of her, speaking softly. [Aren't you happy?]

Su Jin shook her head.

"I am," she said. "I'm just tired."

She stood, her bare feet on the carpet, and walked to the window. Outside, Beijing spread out beneath the night sky, countless homes lit up and traffic flowing endlessly. She stood there for so long that Little Golden Egg thought she wasn't going to speak.

Then she spoke, her voice very soft, as though talking to herself:

"Tomorrow, I'm going to Boston."