He kept shooting.

Guiying looked at his phone on the counter beside the mirror as Lin Yansu touched up between sequences.

Liuxian had called back three times.

Three missed calls, all within the last ten minutes, and a message that said simply:

"Call me."

Guiying picked up the phone and typed: "I’m fine. Still shooting. I’ll call when I’m done."

The reply came in under thirty seconds.

"Now."

Guiying looked at it.

Then he looked at the studio floor, at Shao Mingye resetting the lighting, at Lin Yansu coming toward him with the next look, at Jiang Wenxi watching him with that new expression on her face.

He typed: "Liuxian. I’m fine. Two hours."

A pause, longer than the previous ones.

Then: "Two hours."

Not a question.

Just two words that meant he’d heard, he wasn’t happy about it, and he was going to have a great deal to say when those two hours were up.

Guiying set the phone down and went back to work.

On the other side of the city, Liuxian set his phone face down on his desk and looked at it for a moment.

Two hours.

He picked up his office phone.

"Zhang Wei."

"Already on it," Zhang Wei said. "The ShangYan file just came in. I’m sending it to you now."

Liuxian opened his laptop.

He read through the first section with the focused efficiency he brought to everything, absorbing details, cross-referencing, building the picture Zhang Wei had assembled.

Legitimate businesses first: the import and export arm, the private equity, the logistics network covering most of the southern provinces.

Clean on the surface, well documented, the kind of portfolio that said serious businessman and nothing more.

Then the second half of the file.

Liuxian read through it without stopping.

When he reached the end, he sat back in his chair and looked at the ceiling for a long moment.

Xue ShangYan wasn’t someone who had mafia connections.

Xue ShangYan ran one of the most sophisticated criminal networks in southern China, and had been doing it quietly and completely without incident for the better part of fifteen years.

His father-in-law.

Liuxian looked at the ceiling a moment longer.

Then he picked up his phone and called Zhang Wei.

"I read the file.." he said.

"Good to know.." Zhang Wei said.

"Find me everything on his network," Liuxian said. "Every connection, every operation, every person he’s moved against in the last five years." A pause. "And Zhang Wei, do it quietly."

Guiying finished the shoot at half past four.

The last frame clicked, Shao Mingye lowered his camera, and the studio let out a breath.

"That’s a wrap," Shao Mingye said.

Bai Zichen made a sound that had been building since the third outfit. "Okay, I need everyone to acknowledge what happened today because I feel like we’re all about to go home and pretend it was normal, and I refuse to let that happen."

"We’re not discussing it," Jiang Wenxi said.

"We slapped Shen Zihao."

"Mr. Tang slapped Shen Zihao," Pei Jiahao said, without looking up from his planner. "There’s a difference."

"We were all in the room. That makes it communal."

Lin Yansu was already moving through the rack resetting everything, but the corner of her mouth had moved in a way that on anyone else would have been a full smile.

Guiying was at the styling station checking his phone when it buzzed.

Liuxian.

"I’m outside."

He stared at it. Typed back: "You came yourself?"

"Yes."

He picked up his bag, told the room thank you and that he had to go, and was halfway to the elevator when he heard movement behind him. He turned around to find all five of them following him out with the coordinated energy of people who had made a silent group decision.

Bai Zichen’s hand was already in his bag. "I’ll carry that."

"That’s—"

"I’ve got it," Bai Zichen said pleasantly.

Lin Yansu had the styling bag he’d left by the rack. Pei Jiahao had his planner. Shao Mingye had his camera because he went nowhere without it. Jiang Wenxi was at the front looking purposeful, like she’d organised all of this herself.

Guiying looked at his own empty hands, looked briefly at the ceiling, and said nothing.

Liuxian was standing just inside the lobby entrance when the elevator opened, hands in his pockets, not doing anything except standing there. The receptionist had straightened in her chair, and two people crossing the floor had slowed without realising they were doing it.

His eyes found Guiying the moment the doors opened, that single look that took in everything and gave away nothing. Something in him that had been wound tight since two hours ago released by a fraction.

Then he saw the team behind Guiying, and something moved briefly in his expression.

Jiang Wenxi crossed the lobby with her hand extended. "Mr. Liu. Jiang Wenxi, head designer. It’s an honour to have you here."

"Nice to meet you," Liuxian said, shaking her hand.

"Today was exceptional," she continued. "Mr. Tang is extraordinarily gifted, and we hope to have him with us for a long time."

Bai Zichen held the door open with the focused dedication of someone who had found their life’s purpose. Lin Yansu moved ahead and loaded both bags into the boot before the driver had finished getting out. Pei Jiahao confirmed tomorrow’s fitting time with Guiying directly, twice, making sure he had heard it clearly both times.

Shao Mingye stopped beside Guiying as they reached the car and said quietly that it was the best first shoot he’d had in three years. He gave a brief nod without waiting for a response and walked back toward the building.

Guiying got in, Liuxian got in beside him, and the door closed.

Beijing moved past the windows, going amber and slow in the early evening.

"You ended the call," Liuxian said.

Guiying kept his eyes on the window.

"Something came up at the studio," he said. "One of the staff got into a situation. It got a little loud. I had to go handle it." He paused. "It’s sorted now."

Liuxian was quiet for a moment. "What kind of situation?"

"The kind that’s already handled," Guiying said simply.

He felt Liuxian looking at him, that patient, unhurried attention that didn’t move until it was ready to. He kept his face turned toward the window and his expression completely neutral.

"Is that so," Liuxian said finally.

Guiying said nothing.

Liuxian turned back to the window, and the silence between them sat with weight to it, the kind with something living inside it. Guiying pressed his thumb against his ring once and kept his eyes on the city going past outside.

Ninety days of sharing a studio with Quinn, Shen Zihao knowing exactly where to find him, and Liuxian sitting right beside him with no idea any of it had happened.

What a first day.