Guiying sat down.

They started with the wig.

The blonde one he had been using as a disguise was set aside immediately and replaced with something longer, falling past his shoulders in soft, deliberate layers, still blonde but styled differently, swept back from his face with a few pieces left loose at the front. It framed his face in a way the shorter wig had not, drawing attention to the line of his jaw and the particular quality of his eyes.

Then the makeup.

Mei worked with the focused precision of someone who knew exactly what she was doing and had no interest in explaining it. Foundation that matched his undertone precisely. Something subtle at the eyes that made them look deeper and more striking without reading as obvious. A product on his lips that was barely there but changed everything. Something along his cheekbones that caught the light when he moved.

She stepped back and looked at him.

Then she called the other two over and they assembled the outfit together with the practiced efficiency of people who had dressed important people before and understood that the details mattered.

The white satin shirt first, settling over his shoulders with that quiet luminosity, the collar falling open just enough. The black wide leg trousers next, the gold button details at the hip catching the light. The white gold chain necklace, sitting at the base of his throat. The structured black shoulder bag was placed to the side for now.

Then Mei crouched down with the Louboutins.

She looked up at Guiying. "Have you worn heels before?"

"No," Guiying said.

She nodded, slipped them onto his feet with practiced care, and stood.

The three of them looked at him.

Mei pressed her lips together in the way of someone trying not to say something unprofessional. The second stylist exhaled quietly. The third simply stared.

"You are," Mei said finally, with great composure, "going to cause problems tonight."

---

Guiying descended the stairs slowly, one hand lightly on the railing, the Louboutins clicking against each step with a precision that surprised him. The heels added inches he had not previously possessed and changed everything, the way he moved, the way his shoulders sat, the way the wide leg trousers swept the floor with each step.

Liuxian was waiting at the bottom.

He looked up when he heard the heels on the stairs.

He did not move. He simply watched Guiying descend, with the complete and unhurried attention of a man who had decided that this was worth watching properly and was not going to be distracted from it.

Guiying reached the bottom and stopped.

They looked at each other.

Liuxian was quiet for a moment. Not the quiet of someone who had nothing to say, but the quiet of someone choosing carefully from everything available to them.

"There is a poem," he said finally, his voice low and unhurried, "that says the most beautiful things in the world are the ones that make you want to keep them for yourself." He looked at Guiying, at the white satin catching the light, at the chain at his throat, at the red soles of the Louboutins, and then back up at his face. "I almost do not want to let them see you tonight."

Guiying stood very still.

His ears were burning. His composure was doing its best and losing ground rapidly.

"That is," he said, after a moment, "extremely unfair."

"I know," Liuxian said simply.

He extended his hand.

Guiying took it.

They stood like that for a moment at the bottom of the stairs, hand in hand, and Guiying realized he was at exactly lip level. He tilted his head up slightly. Liuxian looked down at him, warm and steady, and smiled, small and private, the kind he did not give to rooms.

"You are at lip level," he observed.

"Do not even think about it," Guiying said.

Liuxian thought about it anyway, visibly, and then did not act on it, which was somehow worse.

Wang Chengli appeared from the direction of the kitchen, took one look at both of them, and bowed his head slightly with the expression of a man who had seen many things in his years of service and was privately moved by this particular one.

"The car is ready, Young Master," he said.

Liuxian looked at Guiying.

"Ready?" he said.

Guiying straightened his shoulders, felt the satin shirt settle perfectly, felt the Louboutins solid and steady beneath him, and thought that for someone who had spent twenty three years being told he was worth nothing, he felt, in this particular moment, entirely worth looking at.

"Ready," he said.

Zhang Wei was standing beside the car when they walked out, dressed in a sharp black suit, looking considerably more put together than he did in the office. He opened the rear passenger door when he saw them approaching and then stopped when his eyes landed on Guiying.

He looked at him for a full three seconds.

"Master Xue," he said, with genuine feeling. "You look incredible."

"Thank you Zhang Wei," Guiying said.

"I mean it. Truly." He paused. "Boss, you should give him a raise."

"Mhm, perhaps I should increase his monthly allowance for being so pretty." Liuxian said, getting into the car.

"Yes, yes you should," Zhang Wei said, and closed the door.

He got into the driver’s seat, adjusted the mirror, and pulled smoothly out of the driveway.

The city moved past the windows in the early evening light, the sky deepening from gold to blue at the edges.

Liuxian turned to Guiying.

"We need to talk about your name tonight," he said.

Guiying looked at him. "My name?"

"Your alias. If anyone asks who you are, you are Tang XiaoYu. My partner." He paused. "And if they ask what you do for a living, tell them you are a lover of art. That you spend your days painting and collecting art from across the world."

Guiying considered it.

Tang XiaoYu. A lover of art. Someone who moved through the world with the particular freedom of a person who had money and taste and no obligation to explain either.

"I can work with that," he said.

"You will need to be convincing," Liuxian said. "The people at this gala are not unintelligent. They will ask follow up questions."

"What kind of art do I collect?"

"Whatever interests you," Liuxian said. "The more specific the better. Vague answers invite more questions. Specific ones end conversations."

Guiying nodded, filing it away. "And if they ask about us? How we met?"

Liuxian looked at him. "How would you like to have met?"

Guiying thought about it for a moment.

"An auction," he said. "A private one. I was bidding on a piece. You outbid me."

Liuxian looked at him for a moment, something quietly amused in his expression.

"And did I apologize?" he asked.

"No," Guiying said. "You bought me dinner instead."

From the front seat, Zhang Wei made a sound that he immediately converted into a cough.

"Eyes on the road Zhang Wei," Liuxian said.