Ruiyan sat cross-legged on the marble floor of the hotel lobby, fiddling with a set of colorful wires he'd found in the gift bag from the conference.
"Careful, little one," said the receptionist, smiling warmly. "You'll end up rewiring the entire building."
He grinned. "I only fix broken things."
A voice nearby paused mid-step.
"…Did you say that?"
The boy looked up.
The man standing there wasn't like the others who passed through the grand hotel. He didn't just glance — he saw. His dark eyes locked onto Ruiyan's face with something that felt deeper than recognition. Like déjà vu. Like grief. Like wonder.
Zeyan slowly knelt beside the boy, his heart pounding.
"What's your name?"
"Ruiyan," the boy answered, cautious but not afraid.
"That's a nice name."
"Ma gave it to me. She said it means hope. Do you know her?"
Zeyan's throat tightened. "I… used to. A long time ago."
"You look sad when you say that."
"I guess I am," he said softly. "I didn't know she had a son."
"She doesn't talk about my dad," Ruiyan added, not looking up. "I think it hurts her."
Zeyan blinked, stunned by the boy's emotional intuition. "Do you want to know about him?"
"I do," he whispered. "But every time I ask, Ma's eyes get wet… and she changes the subject."
Zeyan swallowed hard.
This boy… the sharp jawline, the tilt of his head, the way his hands moved when he was thinking — it was like watching a younger version of himself.
He wasn't ready to say it aloud. Not yet.
But in his bones, he knew.
Upstairs, Ruoxi stood at the edge of the balcony, watching the golden city lights reflect across the Seine. Her chest ached with a strange weight.
That man — Mo Zeyan.
Why did he feel like a missing piece of her?
She was still adjusting to life as a mother, as a CEO, as a daughter to a father who had only recently entered her world. She had no space for another mystery.
And yet…
When he'd spoken her name earlier, it had sounded like a prayer.
And her heart — her stubborn, guarded heart — had trembled.
Later that evening, she stepped into the hotel lounge to meet a few investors. Ruiyan trailed behind her, clutching a toy in one hand and his backpack in the other.
When she spotted Zeyan near the piano, she paused.
He didn't rush over.
He simply looked at her the way someone looks at a sunset they thought they'd never see again.
"Ma," Ruiyan said, tugging her sleeve. "He helped me fix the wires downstairs."
Ruoxi blinked. "You two met?"
"We did," Zeyan said gently. "He's… incredible."
Ruoxi nodded slowly. "He's the reason I wake up every day and keep going."
The unspoken truth between them lingered in the air. Zeyan knew. She could feel it in the way he looked at Ruiyan — with awe, affection, and a pain so deep it didn't need words.
"I'm sorry," she said suddenly. "I don't remember our past, but… I feel like I owe you an explanation."
Zeyan shook his head. "You don't owe me anything, Ruoxi. I'm just… glad you're here."
She looked at him for a long moment. "Would you… like to join us for dinner?"
It was the smallest invitation.
But to him, it felt like a second chance at a life he thought he'd lost.
Dinner was gentle. Awkward in parts. Beautiful in others.
Zeyan didn't push. He asked about Ruiyan's hobbies, his school, the cartoon he liked. And the more he listened, the more his heart ached.
Ruiyan looked at him like he was a superhero in hiding.
And Ruoxi… was beginning to laugh again.
She didn't remember their nights spent under rain-soaked roofs, or the way he'd once held her like she was the only thing keeping him alive — but she was beginning to smile in his presence.
And it gave him hope.
That night, Ruiyan slept curled against Ruoxi's side. The city lights twinkled outside.
She whispered into the dark, not sure if she was speaking to herself or the man still waiting just outside her door:
"I don't know what we were. But somehow… I feel like you've always been part of me."
And somewhere down the hall, Mo Zeyan whispered back, even though she couldn't hear him:
"You were mine before memory, Ruoxi. And you'll be mine again."