I stood there, lips parted slightly, eyes narrowing. Did he just—?
Yes.
Yes, he did.
That man just pushed past me like I was furniture. Not even a "Excuse me" or "Sorry" or even a fake polite smile. Just a cold shoulder, expensive coat, and an even colder attitude.
He opened the freezer like he owned the store, like the village, like China, and casually pulled out a bottle of something dark iced coffee, I think as if my entire life hadn't just imploded two feet away from him.
I wiped under my eyes before anything could fall. No crying. Not in front of a man like that.
I glanced at him again. Sharp jawline. Watch probably worth more than my card limit. Hair combed back so perfectly it looked illegal in this climate.
A man who clearly never lost a suitcase in a foreign place or had to beg a taxi driver to stop for water.
He didn't even acknowledge me. Just walked to the counter, set the drink down, and pulled out his wallet like this whole rustic setup wasn't offensive to his luxury.
The old man at the register the same one who tried warning me about the theft brightened when he saw him. Like they knew each other. Like this wasn't just some arrogant city man. He said something fast in Chinese and laughed.
The guy nodded faintly, muttered something back deeper voice than I expected and slid a few notes onto the counter before turning around.
For a second, our eyes met.
And it wasn't… warm.
It was that kind of stare people give you when they're trying to figure out what exactly you're doing in their world.
I straightened my posture instinctively.
I wasn't going to be seen as helpless. I was just… off guard. That's all.
He walked past again this time not touching me and exited the store with the same unbothered energy, leaving the door swinging behind him.
Silence fell again.
Then I blinked.
Wait. He was he looked clean. Rich. The watch, the tailored coat he clearly wasn't from here either.
Maybe he spoke English. Maybe he could help. My heels clicked sharply against the cracked tile as I rushed out the door, not even thinking.
"Wait—hey!" I called out, jogging slightly, ignoring the ridiculous image of myself running in heels through dust and stray dogs barking in the distance.
I spotted him just about to turn the corner, drink still in hand.
"Excuse me" I shouted again, louder this time.
But before I could reach him —
"Nǐ de qián?"
A voice behind me barked.
I froze. Turned around.
The old shopkeeper was waddling out of the store, waving a hand and pointing inside.
My brain took a second to catch up I forgot to pay.
"Oh my god—sorry! I—I completely—"
I fumbled into my purse, cheeks burning as I jogged back toward him, pulling out a few notes. I handed them over, breathless, muttering, "I wasn't stealing, I swear."
He took the cash and gave me a grunt that felt halfway between annoyance and forgiveness.
I offered a tiny, embarrassed nod and turned back around. The man in the coat was already a good distance ahead.
Still walking. Still not caring.
"Of course," I muttered, heels scraping against uneven gravel as I picked up my pace again. "Can't believe I'm doing this…"
The hem of my blouse fluttered behind me as I chased after a stranger down a quiet village road, no suitcase, no backup, just a purse and a terrible idea.
But I wasn't thinking straight.
All I saw was one potential thread one chance to not feel completely alone. I needed to catch up to this man to survive here.
"Excuse me!" I called again, breathless. "Hey sir!"
He didn't slow down. Didn't even tilt his head.
Panic prickled under my skin. If he disappeared down that alley, I wouldn't be able to find him again. And I had no one else.
So I picked up speed.
One hand clutching my purse strap, the other reaching out. To tap him, to get his attention—
But he shifted slightly at that exact second, and instead of catching his sleeve or the edge of his coat. My fingers latched onto the back pocket of his trousers.
His pants.
He stopped. Instantly.
Stiff. Still.
I froze too.
Eyes wide. Hand still—there.
My brain screamed at me to let go, but my fingers betrayed me, curling in reflex like I was trying to hold onto a cliff edge.
Slowly, he turned his head.
I looked up at him, mortified. "I—I'm so sorry, I meant to—uh—your coat. I swear."
He blinked once.
Expression unreadable. Jaw tight.
Then his eyes dropped to where my hand still was.
I yanked it back like I'd touched fire. "Sorry That was—I didn't mean to grab—that."
For a moment, the street was dead silent.
Just the soft clink of my necklace shifting as I straightened up, trying to pull every thread of dignity I had left around me like a shawl.
He stared.
Not amused. Not furious. Just… watching.
Like I was some lost foreigner who had no business being here.
Which, to be fair, I was.
"I need help," I finally said, trying to sound calm, composed, not like someone who just committed a fashion crime and social suicide simultaneously.
He didn't say anything.
Not yet.
I smoothed my blouse, stood straighter, tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear anything to feel like myself again.
"I just…" I cleared my throat, voice tight. "My suitcase got stolen. My driver barely understood me. My Chinese is well, nonexistent. And I don't exactly have a 'Welcome to Shanghai' guidebook tucked in this purse, so…"
He raised an eyebrow.
A slow, unimpressed raise.
Then finally, he said something. His voice was calm. Deep. But clipped.
"Are you done?"
I blinked.
"Excuse me?"
He looked at me again, this time properly. "You're not hurt. You're not bleeding. Your bag is still with you. So, no it's not a crisis. Just a very expensive inconvenience."