I followed the signs, heels clicking sharply against the polished tile, pulling my sleek little suitcase like I was on a runway instead of… whatever this was.
Except there was no one waiting.
No smartly dressed driver with a little sign. No "Miss Yu" echoing in the crowd. No help. Nothing.
Just the noise. The heat. The chaos.
Of course.
Of course.
My mother said she'd help from afar, but I didn't expect that to mean absolutely nothing was arranged.
I was Claire Yuxi. I wasn't used to arriving without someone waiting. Still, I told myself I could handle it. People handled things like this every day. Right? Right.
I pulled out the address she gave me and entered it into a taxi app, waiting on the side with my phone clutched like a lifeline. After three failed attempts and one driver who canceled on me mid-route, I finally flagged down an old cab whose interior smelled like spicy noodles and cigarettes.
"Zheli," I said awkwardly, showing him the address.
He nodded without a word.
That was it. No music. No air freshener. No bottled water in the seatback pocket.
Just the drone of the engine and the blur of a city I didn't recognize.
I stared out the window, waiting for the skyline to rise. For something to feel familiar or impressive or clean.
But instead of luxury towers and five-star hotels… the road started narrowing.
The buildings began to shift smaller, flatter, more worn. City lights faded behind us, replaced by fields.
Actual fields.
My brows furrowed. I sat up straighter.
The streets got quieter. Then dustier. Shops with faded signs. Laundry hanging from balconies.
People walking slower. Chickens. There were actual chickens.
No. This can't be right.
"Excuse me?" I tapped the driver's shoulder lightly. "Is this still Shanghai?"
He didn't respond. Just kept driving, like this was normal.
My heart dropped. We turned down a narrow path not a road with gravel crunching under the tires and a dog barking in the distance.
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, crossing one leg over the other. The air was thick, too thick. My throat was dry. I hadn't had water in hours, and the heat wasn't helping.
"Can you stop at a store?" I asked the driver, voice flat, hoping he'd catch at least the word store.
He didn't react. Eyes on the road. No blink. No nod. Nothing.
"I need water. Store. Stop the car, please."
Still nothing.
I sighed and fumbled for my phone. I typed the word into a translation app, held it up to the screen.
Then I gave it a shot myself.
"Zhèlǐ… yǒu… shuǐ ma?"
His eyes finally flicked to the mirror. He nodded once, slow and expressionless. About five minutes later, he jerked the wheel and pulled over in front of a small convenience store the kind that looked like it hadn't seen a renovation since the early 90s.
I reached for my suitcase instinctively. Thankfully, I'd kept it with me in the back seat.
No way was I trusting it in that rusty trunk not that I even thought it had space to fit in the first place.
The wheels made a soft click over the uneven concrete as I dragged it along and stepped inside the store.
It smelled like instant noodles and old soy sauce. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead like they were debating whether to stay on or not.
I walked past shelves of unfamiliar packaging and faded snacks. No water in sight.
Then I heard it. An old man's voice, sharp and panicked, yelling something rapid in Chinese from the counter.
I turned toward him slowly, frowning. "I don't understand what?"
He kept pointing behind me, still shouting. I spun around. And my stomach dropped.
The suitcase. Gone. And so was the damn cab driver. That asshole robbed me. He took my suitcase which I kept near the entrance of the store and drove away with it.
The spot where I left it by the door? Completely, undeniably empty.
I turned back to the old man. His face was tight with alarm, eyes wide as he kept gesturing frantically toward the road, shouting what I could only guess was:
"Someone just took it"
And that's when it hit me. That's what this old man was screaming about. I'd just been robbed.
In the middle of nowhere. In a place I didn't even know how to pronounce. Now all I have is my purse with my phone and card.
Now all I had was my purse.
My phone. And one card.
The rest? Gone.
My suitcase with my perfumes lined up like little soldiers, my limited-edition silk scarves, my creams, my tailored blazers, my heels my shoes. Everything. Gone in less than five minutes.
I leaned against the dusty rack of canned noodles, holding back the burn in my throat.
I didn't want to cry.
But oh, I could feel it building.
I'd packed every outfit for this nightmare trip like it was a runway assignment. Folded, layered, wrapped in tissue gone. Stolen. In this… dusty village in the middle of God-knows-where.
"My Prada," I mumbled under my breath, eyes stinging.
"The Dior purse. The heels. The black coat with the golden buttons."
It felt like I'd been stripped of my identity and left here in a heatwave with a sticky forehead and a half-dead phone.
Then—The old wooden door creaked open behind me.
Heavy footsteps. Not rushed. Not loud. Just… deliberate.
I turned my head slightly, tears still glossing my lashes, and saw a man step in.
Not from around here. That was obvious.
He was tall broad-shouldered, dressed in deep charcoal. A structured coat that looked like it belonged on a Milan runway. Black dress pants that hadn't seen a wrinkle in their life. A cold air followed him in, like he didn't belong to this place either.
No dust on him. No sweat. Just pure, untouched arrogance.
He didn't look at me at first. Just walked in, unbothered. But I was standing near the freezer. And apparently, in his way.
He stopped in front of me.
Looked me up and down once slowly, judgment practically dripping from his eyes. Like I was a piece of unclaimed trash cluttering up his air.
Then he took one step forward.
His shoulder brushed mine as he passed, firm enough to make me shift slightly to the side.
Not a word. Not a glance back. Just that silent you're-in-my-way kind of presence.
I blinked, stunned, watching him open the freezer door like this wasn't the worst moment of my entire life.
And honestly?
It made me want to scream.