Bai Yue arrived at the café ten minutes early, heart fluttering. She chose the same corner table where Chen Jue had once shattered her almost-kiss dreams, ordered her usual overpriced matcha, and stared at the foam like it held answers.

Twenty minutes, she reminded herself. In and out. Whatever urgent "family stuff" he has to say about Han Shān, I listen, nod politely, and never speak of it again.

The bell above the door chimed. She looked up, smile already forming—

And froze.

Han Shān walked in.

Not Chen Jue.

Tall, immaculate in a charcoal suit, snow-white hair catching the afternoon light like it had been personally styled by winter itself. His eyes locked on her immediately, and her heart stuttered so hard she nearly dropped her glass.

Oh no. Ground, swallow me. Again.

He crossed the café in three strides, pulled out the chair opposite her, and sat.

"Miss Bai," he said, voice low and even, the same winter-steel tone from the conference room. No greeting. No apology for the bait-and-switch.

"Mr. Shān." Her voice came out a little squeaky. How wouldn’t it?!

She cleared her throat. "I... was expecting Chen Jue."

"He sends his regrets. Urgent board call. He asked me to deliver the message in person." A pause. "And to handle the actual conversation."

Bai Yue blinked. The knot of nerves in her stomach twisted even more. What could he possibly want to talk to her about? She sipped her matcha to buy time. "So... the urgent family stuff?"

Han Shān leaned back, fingers tapping once against the table. The movement was small, but she noticed everything, the faint scar on his knuckle, the way his cufflinks caught the light like tiny stars. "Zhen."

"Zhen," Bai Yue repeated, smiling before she could stop herself. "The tiny chaos goblin who declared me her favorite person in under thirty seconds."

A ghost of something crossed his face.. "She’s stubborn. Five years old and already negotiating bedtime like a hostile takeover. Her last nanny lasted four days. Rui Xuě tries to keep her in line, but he’s nine. He shouldn’t have to."

"Oh...." Bai Yue said stupidly, unsure of what to say.

Han Shān continued, gaze never leaving hers. "I need someone part-time. Evenings, occasional weekends when I’m buried in the merger. Someone who doesn’t flinch when a toddler uses them as a jungle gym. Someone who smells like vanilla and carries glow-in-the-dark stickers."

She nearly choked on her matcha. "You...want me to nanny?"

"Part-time," he clarified, as if that made it less insane. "You would still have your position in marketing. Flexible hours. Competitive pay. And Zhen already decided you’re hers." His voice softened a fraction, just enough that the ice king sounded almost human. "She asked for you this morning. Called you ’the cookie lady who doesn’t mind sticky hands.’"

Bai Yue stared at him, her eyes widening. Why did this seem...

A faint whisper echoed in her head, but she couldn’t remember what exactly it was. "Oh," she said. Then, because her brain had apparently short-circuited, "Sure."

Han Shān’s eyebrows lifted a millimeter. The closest thing to surprise she’d ever seen on him. "Sure?"

"I mean, yes. I’d like that. Part-time nannying. For Zhen. And Rui Xuě, if he needs it." She smiled at him.

He nodded his head and slid a sleek black card across the table. "My direct line. Text me your availability. We’ll start this weekend if you’re free."

She took the card. Their fingers brushed. Electricity. Or maybe just static from the café rug. Either way, her cheeks warmed.

Han Shān stood. "Thank you, Miss Bai." He paused at the door, glancing back once. "And... the stars were particularly clear last night. If you ever want to see them properly, the penthouse terrace is quiet."

Then he was gone, leaving her staring at her half-finished matcha like it had personally betrayed her.

What the hell just happened?

She paid quickly, legs a little unsteady as she walked the three blocks back to the office.

~

The merger floor was buzzing, analysts hunched over spreadsheets, the faint smell of burnt coffee in the air. She made it to her desk before the group chat exploded again.

Lila appeared first, leaning over the partition like a gossip gremlin. "Spill. You were gone an hour. Was it Chen Jue? Did he grovel?"

Mei popped up next, eyes wide. "Wait....before you go into detail, there’s a red-haired guy in the lobby right now. Tall. Smirking. Sophie says he’s Zhao Yàn, CEO of Crimson Peak Holdings. Han Shān’s biggest rival. What is he doing here?"

Bai Yue’s stomach flipped for the third time that day. She glanced toward the glass-walled lobby. Sure enough, a man with fiery orange hair and a crimson tie that screamed expensive trouble stood near the elevators, hands in his pockets, looking every bit like he had stepped out of a cologne ad.

Sophie slid into the chair beside her, whispering dramatically. "He asked for a tour of the merger floor. Said he’s ’interested in friendly competition.’ But he keeps staring toward Han Shān’s private elevator like he’s waiting for a showdown."

Bai Yue didn’t have time to answer. The elevator dinged.

Han Shān stepped out, tablet in hand, heading straight for the conference room.

Zhao Yàn’s smirk deepened the second he spotted him. He pushed off the wall and sauntered forward, voice carrying just loud enough for the entire floor to hear.

"Well, hello, old friend."

The air between them crackled like the moment before lightning. Han Shān stopped, eyes narrowing a fraction. The two men faced each other, ice and fire, in three-thousand-dollar suits.

Bai Yue’s phone buzzed in her hand. A single text from an unknown number.

Unknown: This weekend. My place. Stars optional. —H

She looked up just as Zhao Yàn’s smirk widened, and Han Shān’s jaw tightened like he was calculating exactly how many board votes it would take to ruin the man’s day.

The merger had just gotten a lot more complicated.