That lame excuse made Victor rise from the sofa.
He didn't come straight to me. Instead, he walked a circuit around the store before blocking my path.
He held a red silk dress with a fitted jacket topped by a black pearl-neck cashmere cardigan.
He gazed down at me, a faint smile playing on his lips. Beneath his calm expression, something darker stirred.
I had to admit—this outfit hit my aesthetic exactly.
I pressed my lips together, suppressing a smile, and reached for it.
Suddenly, his arm clamped around my waist.
The pressure was firm, the hard buckle of his wide belt digging into my lower ribs.
I pounded his chest, asking what he was doing.
He leaned down, bringing his face close to my ear, warm breath tickling:
"I want to know what you're thinking right now."
Neither the shop owner nor the two bodyguards by the door could look away fast enough, turning their backs.
"What could I be thinking..."
Perhaps because he held me too tightly, my chest was crushed, struggling to breathe.
"I'm just thanking you for buying me clothes..."
He scrutinized my face for a long moment before finally handing me the outfit, smiling as he watched me enter the fitting room.
He murmured a line that sounded faintly familiar: "Family doesn't keep accounts with family."
Inside the fitting room, I caught sight of my own flushed face in the mirror.
Changed into the new clothes, the full skirt fell below my calves, the fine merino wool was soft and breathable, lending my flushed cheeks an air of elegance.
I'd never owned such fine clothes. Mostly, I wore cheap cotton T-shirts and oversized jeans. At home, I dressed even more casually.
Yesterday's qipao was the finest thing I'd ever worn—which was why I'd refused to take it off even though it was so tight I could barely breathe.
Today's outfit wasn't just beautiful—it was comfortable, gave me ease of movement, and even made my features look better. This must be the quality that borrowed wealth can never impart.
Looking at my reflection, joy mingled with a sense of distance.
No matter the century—a hundred years before or a hundred years after—Victor and I were from two different worlds.
If not for the spatial displacement every time he resurrected, I'd never have crossed paths with someone like him.
And the woman who truly belonged to his class was Luna.
Lost in thought, I stepped out of the fitting room and found Victor already paying.
I asked in surprise: "How do you know it fits?"
He looked at me, his tone matter-of-fact: "I just know."
After paying, he swept me up again.
I protested that my ankle was better, that it didn't hurt anymore.
He completely ignored me, striding forward as if my only proper place was in his arms.
The shop owner beamed, carrying several brown paper bags to escort us out, handing them to Jay.
"Why did you buy so many?"
"Since you're staying, you need more clothes. When there's time, Grace will take you to Zhang's for custom pieces. Their craftsmanship is even better."
A sudden, tangible sense that "staying" might be real.
Those words—not going back even if it meant him taking a bullet—had been spoken impulsively, a stopgap measure, thinking I'd find another way home. But to him, they meant staying forever.
I studied his pleased profile and held back the urge to explain.
Thinking it over, this time-travel wasn't entirely regrettable. Nor was it entirely without regret.
But if asked to stay forever... it didn't seem impossible.
At the shoe store, he picked out a pair of kidskin flats. I put them on and walked—far more comfortable than Grace's kitten heels.
But I had no idea what the future held.
Looking at my reflection, looking more and more like someone from this era, I let out a long breath.
Whatever will be, will be. Take it one step at a time.
Victor saw me sigh, and his smile faded.
A scrutinizing look entered his eyes.
"Sighing for no reason. Are you hungry?"
He took my left hand, looked at the time on my watch.
It was nearly one o'clock.
"I'm not..."
I'd been lost in other thoughts and hadn't noticed my own hunger, so I denied it reflexively.
But my stomach took the opportunity to growl.
He laughed, sent the bodyguards to order food first, then accompanied me through a few more shoe fittings, paid, and finally headed for the restaurant.
"You'll definitely like this place."
17.
The bustling street connected to the riverside dock, walking distance away.
A graceful, exquisitely crafted pleasure boat waited quietly on the water.
Victor helped me aboard.
Seven or eight small seasonal dishes, plus a labor-intensive three-shrimp noodle soup.
Just as he'd said, it suited my taste perfectly.
But with others standing while I sat, watching me eat, I couldn't fully enjoy the meal.
I tapped Victor's hand: "Should we let the bodyguards sit and eat too? They've been working hard."
He sat up straight, expressionless, and asked the two posts behind us: "Are you tired?"
They snapped to attention: "No, sir!"
But Victor's next words were: "Go eat."
They froze for a moment. Seeing Victor's patience thinning, Jay hastily exited, dragging the slow-reacting Dan behind him, and gently pulled down the bamboo curtain.
Finally, the atmosphere felt relaxed.
I was about to dive into my noodles when Victor pulled me into his arms.
I landed on his lap, hands braced on his shoulders, chopsticks clattering to the floor.
"You're so generous to others. I've been carrying you all day—why don't you have some sympathy for me?"
My heart hammered: "And... how should I show that?"
He raised a brow: "What do you think?"
I blushed and pecked his cheek, but before I could pull away, he caught my chin and kissed me hard.
Victor was like me—simple and direct.
His lips told me everything about his feelings.
He'd taken over my food, clothing, shelter, and transportation. He'd attended to my moods. From this morning onward, his affection had been entirely undisguised.
And yet, given his position, what should have been a forceful kind of love was full of tentative gestures.
"Rose, with me here, you can feel safe staying."
I didn't answer. My gaze fell on the river, the streets on both banks, and the people making a living along the shore.
Even though the boat moved slowly with the current, it didn't take long before we'd left the bustle behind, arriving at a desolate stretch lined with an abandoned factory—cold and derelict, a different world from the dock we'd departed.
This era had its prosperity, romance, and innovation. But those bright spots were like the scenery along the river—only a few, and you only had to walk a little to reach the edge. Beyond was nothing but wasteland.
Past noon, the sun weakened. The sky grew overcast.
Victor received no response. He fell silent, watching the scenery with me, then took off his coat and wrapped it around my shoulders, ordering the boat to turn back.
"This location is great. A hundred years from now, if someone built a commercial complex here, it would be incredibly popular."
I spoke without thinking, lost in thoughts of my own world, not noticing what those words meant to Victor.
His arm around me tightened: "No one can live past a hundred years. Being able to plan ten years ahead is already a fortune."
Ten years...
I remembered that history only left him less than two.
With his pride, if I told him that staying in his current position would lead to a catastrophic defeat, caught between northern and southern forces...
Would he be willing to flee and live an ordinary life with me?
He wouldn't.
Even after dying and resurrecting in my apartment multiple times, he always returned without hesitation to his own era.
If he knew the outcome two years from now, he'd prepare in advance, striking first and dismantling his enemies one by one.
But even if he defeated the other Chinese warlords, foreign invaders would come next.
That was the catastrophe nothing could prevent.
"What's wrong, Rose? I really want to know what you're thinking when you space out."
His breath was against the top of my head, carrying a note of insecurity that seemed out of place.
"Something I can't figure out..."
"If you can't figure it out, don't think about it for now."
His eyes were bright, as if he wanted to monopolize all my thoughts.
I smiled and leaned into him.
He was right. Some things were pointless to overthink. Take it one step at a time.
After some river breeze, we returned to the dock, then drove back to the General's Estate as dusk fell and the lamps began to glow.
The aroma of cooking from the estate's kitchen had reached the front hall, mingled with music and laughter.
I followed Victor inside and found a table of ladies playing cards in the inner hall.
One of them was Grace. The other three I didn't recognize.