The email arrives at 9:47 AM.

I’m in the study when my phone buzzes, half-focused on a sketch that isn’t going anywhere, and I almost don’t check it.

Almost.

But my hand moves automatically, picking up the phone, unlocking the screen.

And there it is.

Subject: Dingshan Real Estate Master-Planned Community Design Competition - Results Announcement

My heart stops.

Actually stops for a second before slamming back into motion, too fast, too hard.

I stare at the subject line.

Don’t open it, can’t open it.

I need to open it.

My thumb hovers over the screen.

This is it.

Two months of work, weeks of waiting, everything I’ve been thinking about obsessively condensed into whatever is inside this email.

I open it.

The first line is standard professional language, thanking all participants for their submissions, acknowledging the high quality of entries received.

I skip past it.

My eyes catch on the next paragraph.

We are pleased to announce the results of the competition:

First Place: Elliot Jun

Second Place: Li Runze

I stop breathing.

Read it again.

Second Place: Li Runze

Again.

Second Place: Li Runze

My name.

Right there.

I placed second.

In a professional competition.

Against actual architects with degrees and experience and portfolios full of completed projects.

I placed second.

My hands start shaking.

I set the phone down on the desk carefully because I’m not entirely sure I can hold it steady anymore.

Then immediately pick it up again because I need to keep reading, need to make sure I didn’t misread, need to confirm this is actually real.

*The top two designs demonstrated exceptional innovation and technical proficiency. As outlined in the competition guidelines, the first and second place winners will collaborate over the next two months to develop a final integrated design proposal combining the strongest elements of both approaches.*

I have to read that sentence three times before it actually registers.

Collaborate.

With the first place winner.

For two months.

On an actual professional project.

This collaboration will include:

Regular working sessions with Dingshan Real Estate’s development team

Presentations to senior management and stakeholders

Opportunities to interact with industry professionals and consultants

Professional mentorship throughout the design development process

The final integrated design will be presented to the Dingshan board for approval and potential implementation.

Potential implementation.

As in, they might actually build this.

Something I helped design might actually get built.

Exist in the real world.

Not just as a portfolio piece or a theoretical exercise, but as an actual place where people will live and work and move through spaces I created.

I read the entire email again from the beginning.

Then a fourth time.

Making absolutely certain I’m not misinterpreting anything, not missing some clause that says "pending further review" or "subject to additional evaluation" or anything else that would make this less real than it appears to be.

But it’s there.

Clear and official and completely unambiguous.

Second Place: Li Runze

I have to sit down.

Except I’m already sitting.

So I just... stay there.

Phone in my hands.

Staring at the screen.

At my name.

At the word "collaboration" and "working sessions" and "industry professionals."

At the fact that this is actually happening.

My hand moves to my stomach without me deciding to do it.

The bump is real now.

Not just subtle changes I could ignore or dismiss as bloating.

An actual visible curve that’s been growing steadily, that I have to accommodate when I get dressed now, that Mrs. Wen noticed last week even though she didn’t say anything directly.

Almost four months.

Four months pregnant.

And I just placed second in a professional architecture competition.

Did I just do that?

Did I actually accomplish something real?

The thought sits there, almost too big to fully process.

Because this isn’t like passing an exam or completing an assignment where the standards are clear and the path is defined.

This is professional work.

Real architects with real credentials and real experience competed in this.

And my design was good enough.

Good enough to place second.

Good enough that they want to use elements of it in the final proposal.

Good enough that I’m going to spend the next two months working alongside someone who came in first, someone who presumably knows what they’re doing, and I’m expected to contribute as an equal.

As a professional.

The realization keeps hitting in waves, each one slightly different from the last.

I did this.

Nobody handed it to me, nobody arranged it behind the scenes.

I submitted under my own name—Li Runze, not Runze Wuchen—and my work stood on its own merit.

The Wuchen name didn’t help me here.

Bael didn’t make calls or pull strings or smooth any paths.

Grandmother’s expectations didn’t carry me across the finish line.

This was just me.

My work, my ideas, my execution. 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

And it was good enough.

I press my hand more firmly against the bump, feeling the solid warmth of it beneath my palm.

The baby is growing.

My design placed second.

Both things are real, both things are happening simultaneously, and for the first time since transmigrating into this body, since the scandal broke and everything fell apart, since I woke up in a life I didn’t choose and had to figure out how to survive it—

For the first time, I feel proud of something I’ve accomplished entirely on my own.

Not relief that I didn’t fail.

Not gratitude that someone helped me.

Not the absence of shame.

Just... pride.

Pure and uncomplicated.

I did this.

And it was good.

My phone buzzes again.

Another email, this time from Dingshan Real Estate with more details.

Subject: Competition Results - Next Steps for Top Two Finalists

I open it.

Dear Mr. Li,

*Congratulations on your second-place finish in the Dingshan Real Estate Master-Planned Community Design Competition. Your submission demonstrated exceptional innovation in sustainable design integration and pedestrian circulation planning.*

*As outlined in the competition guidelines, you and the first-place winner, Mr. Elliot Jun, will collaborate over the next two months to develop an integrated final design proposal. The collaboration process will include:*

Bi-weekly working sessions at Dingshan headquarters (Mondays and Thursdays, 10 AM - 2 PM)

Monthly presentations to senior management and key stakeholders

Access to our technical consulting team and industry mentors

Site visits to comparable developments for reference and analysis

*Your first working session is scheduled for Monday, May 18th at 10:00 AM. Please confirm your attendance by responding to this email. Finalist portfolios and detailed collaboration guidelines will be distributed at the first session.*

We look forward to seeing what you and Mr. Jun create together.

Best regards,

Peng Hao

Project Manager, Dingshan Real Estate Development

I read through it slowly, absorbing the details.

Bi-weekly sessions.

Monthly presentations.

Access to consulting teams and mentors.

Site visits.

This isn’t just a token collaboration where they take elements from both designs and call it done.

This is real work.

Structured, professional, ongoing work.

The kind of thing that goes on a resume.

The kind of thing that builds credibility.

I lean back in the chair, phone still in my hand, and just sit with it for a moment.

Monday.

The first session is Monday.

Five days from now.

Five days to prepare, to review my own work with fresh eyes, to figure out how to present my ideas professionally to someone who came in first place.

Someone who presumably knows what they’re doing better than I do.

But I placed second.

My work was good enough to place second in a competitive professional process.

That means something.

That means I *do* know what I’m doing, even if I didn’t get here through traditional channels.

My design was strong enough to stand alongside work from people with degrees and experience and established practices.

That’s not luck.

That’s not a fluke.

That’s competence.