CHAPTER 5: THE ENGAGEMENT

THE SAKURA BETWEEN US

CHAPTER 5: THE ENGAGEMENT

Painting number eleven was ugly.

Xiuying loved it.

She had painted through most of the night after returning from the restaurant.

No Jian.

No Mika.

No expensive private room.

Instead, she painted the untouched bento that had sat in front of her.

Perfect grilled fish.

Perfect white rice.

Perfect pickles arranged exactly where they belonged.

Then, across the center of everything, she painted one long black hair.

One flaw.

One lie.

Enough to ruin the entire meal.

At the bottom, she wrote a single English word:

PERFECT.

Ren arrived at eight the next morning.

On time.

Shoes off.

No surprises.

Xiuying noticed.

She didn’t mention it.

He entered the studio and stopped in front of painting eleven.

For almost a minute, he said nothing.

Xiuying crossed her arms.

“Well?”

Ren crouched.

“The hair is disgusting.”

“Thank you.”

“The fish looks expensive.”

“It was.”

“The composition makes me uncomfortable.”

“Good.”

Ren glanced at her.

“You are learning to be cruel.”

Xiuying frowned.

“Is that a compliment?”

“Sometimes art should make people uncomfortable.”

He stood.

“But don’t become cruel just because someone was cruel to you.”

Xiuying looked back at the painting.

That sentence stayed with her long after he left.

⸻

Tanaka arrived an hour later carrying groceries.

And an envelope.

Xiuying immediately disliked the envelope.

Cream paper.

Gold lettering.

A family crest stamped into the corner.

“What is that?”

Tanaka hesitated.

That made her dislike it more.

“Sakura-san…”

“Tanaka.”

He handed it over.

Xiuying opened it.

The invitation was written in Japanese and English.

THE SATO AND TANAKA FAMILIES

CORDIALLY INVITE

LIN XIUYING

TO THE ENGAGEMENT CEREMONY OF

MIKA TANAKA AND JIAN LIN

Day Twenty

Sato Family Villa, Arashiyama

Xiuying read it twice.

Then a third time.

“Why Tanaka?”

Tanaka blinked.

“Mika.”

“Kenji Sato is her father.”

“Yes.”

“But she’s Mika Tanaka.”

Tanaka nodded.

“She uses her mother’s family name. It was decided when she was young. The Tanaka family is also influential, and maintaining the name was important to her mother’s side.”

Xiuying looked at him.

“Japanese rich families are complicated.”

Tanaka considered this.

“Yes.”

She almost laughed.

Then she looked at the invitation again.

The laughter disappeared.

“Arashiyama.”

Tanaka nodded.

“The Sato family villa.”

“Ren’s family home.”

“One of them.”

Of course they had more than one.

Xiuying lowered the invitation.

“When?”

“Five days.”

She looked at him.

“Five?”

“The ceremony is on day twenty. The families are already staying at the villa for preparations.”

Xiuying stared at the gold lettering.

“So Jian is going to be here until then.”

“Yes.”

“And Mika.”

“Yes.”

“And Ren?”

Tanaka hesitated.

“Chairman Sato is expected to attend the family preparations.”

Xiuying looked toward the studio.

Ten paintings leaned against one wall.

Number eleven was drying.

Eighty-nine remained.

“Does Ren know they invited me?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“He said the decision is yours.”

Xiuying looked at Tanaka.

“He said that?”

“Exactly.”

Something in her chest loosened.

Ren was learning.

Tanaka continued.

“He also said if you don’t attend, no one will question you.”

Xiuying folded the invitation.

Slowly.

Carefully.

Then pinned it to the studio wall beside painting eleven.

Tanaka watched her.

“What are you doing?”

“Painting.”

⸻

Kyoto suddenly became very small.

On day twelve, Xiuying went to an art supply shop and saw Jian examining brushes.

She turned around before he noticed her.

Not because she was afraid.

Because she didn’t owe him a conversation.

Painting twelve became a row of brushes with one missing.

She titled it What You Take.

On day thirteen, she stopped at the tofu shop.

Mika was there with two friends.

“Sakura-san!”

Xiuying considered pretending she hadn’t heard.

Too late.

Mika hurried over.

Despite everything, she seemed genuinely pleased to see her.

“Are you coming to the engagement?”

Xiuying looked at her.

Mika didn’t know everything yet.

Perhaps she knew Jian had lied.

Perhaps she didn’t know how much.

Xiuying couldn’t tell.

“I haven’t decided.”

“You should come. Arashiyama is beautiful.”

Xiuying almost laughed at the absurdity.

“I’m sure it is.”

Mika smiled.

Then hesitated.

“About the restaurant…”

Xiuying waited.

Mika looked uncomfortable.

“Jian and I argued.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

Xiuying blinked.

Mika smiled sadly.

“No.”

Xiuying admitted it.

“I’m not.”

For some reason, Mika laughed.

And for one strange second, Xiuying wondered whether she had been thinking about Mika incorrectly.

Then Mika’s friends called her.

She bowed.

“I hope you come, Sakura-san.”

Xiuying watched her leave.

Painting thirteen became two women standing on opposite sides of a paper door.

She didn’t title it.

⸻

Day fourteen was worse.

Nothing came.

Xiuying sat in front of blank paper for four hours.

Every color became red.

Mika’s kimono.

Jian’s lies.

The engagement invitation.

She hated that Jian could still enter her paintings without permission.

By midnight, she gave up.

Painting fourteen remained blank.

The next morning, Ren arrived.

He looked at the empty paper.

Then at Xiuying.

“Bad day?”

“Don’t.”

Ren sat across from her.

He didn’t critique.

Didn’t challenge.

Didn’t tell her to paint the truth.

He simply poured tea.

Xiuying looked at him suspiciously.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You always have something to say.”

“I’m growing.”

“Terrifying.”

They drank tea.

Eventually, Xiuying picked up her brush.

Painting fourteen became an empty chair.

⸻

On day fifteen, Ren didn’t come at eight.

At first Xiuying assumed it was another family obligation.

At eight-thirty, a message arrived.

Family meeting. Sorry. —R

That was all.

No mystery address.

No surprise Jian.

Progress.

Xiuying smiled despite herself.

She spent the day painting.

By eleven that night, she was sitting on the engawa staring at painting fifteen.

A man stood beneath an umbrella.

The umbrella covered everyone except himself.

She hadn’t decided what it meant yet.

Then the gate rattled.

Xiuying frowned.

No one visited at eleven.

“Who’s there?”

The gate slid open.

Ren.

Xiuying stared.

His formal kimono was slightly disordered. His hair was untidy. His steps weren’t quite straight.

He removed his shoes at the entrance.

At least he remembered that.

Then he sat heavily on the engawa.

Xiuying smelled sake.

“Oh no.”

Ren looked at her.

“What?”

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m not.”

“You missed the floor when you put your shoe down.”

“The floor moved.”

“The floor is three hundred years old.”

“Then it should know better.”

Xiuying covered her mouth.

She was not going to laugh.

She failed.

Ren looked offended.

“You’re laughing at me.”

“Chairman Sato, defeated by stationary flooring.”

“Former Chairman.”

“Drunk former Chairman.”

He leaned back against the wooden pillar.

For a while, neither spoke.

Then Ren said:

“They spent four hours discussing marriage.”

Xiuying’s smile faded.

“Mika and Jian?”

“Everyone.”

He looked toward the garden.

“My brother believes marriage is another department of the company.”

Xiuying sat beside him, leaving space between them.

“He asked when I plan to marry.”

“And?”

“I told him I don’t know.”

Xiuying waited.

“He gave me a list.”

“A list?”

“Six women.”

She laughed.

Ren didn’t.

“Oh.”

“All Japanese. All from families he approves of.”

The garden seemed quieter.

Ren continued.

“He said Mika understands duty better than I do.”

Xiuying looked at painting fifteen.

The man beneath the umbrella.

“What did you say?”

Ren was quiet.

“I asked him whether duty had ever made anyone in our family happy.”

That didn’t sound like the Ren she had met fifteen days ago.

Or perhaps it did.

Perhaps she was only beginning to see him.

Ren looked at her.

“He mentioned you.”

Xiuying’s fingers tightened.

“What did he say?”

“Nothing worth repeating.”

“Ren.”

His jaw tightened.

“He said the Foundation should remember the difference between supporting an artist and bringing her into the family.”

Xiuying stared into the garden.

There it was.

The invisible wall she’d known existed from the beginning.

Chinese artist.

Japanese dynasty.

Chengdu apartment.

Arashiyama villa.

Two completely different worlds.

“And what did you say?”

Ren looked at her.

“I told him Lin Xiuying isn’t asking to join our family.”

She blinked.

“Good answer.”

“Then I told him our family would be lucky if she ever wanted to.”

Her heart stumbled.

Ren seemed to realize what he’d said a second too late.

Maybe it was the alcohol.

Maybe it wasn’t.

“Ren…”

He looked away.

“I shouldn’t have come here tonight.”

“No.”

He nodded.

“No?”

“You definitely shouldn’t have.”

“Right.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Apparently.”

“And whatever you’re trying to say…”

She swallowed.

“…you can say it when you’re sober.”

Ren looked at her.

Something passed between them.

Warm.

Dangerous.

Unfinished.

Then he smiled faintly.

“You’re very strict.”

“You gave me one hundred paintings in one hundred days.”

“Fair.”

A voice suddenly came from the gate.

“Ren-uncle?”

Xiuying’s stomach dropped.

Mika stepped inside carrying a lantern.

Jian followed.

Mika stopped when she saw them sitting together.

Her eyes moved from Ren to Xiuying.

Then to the unfinished painting.

“Oh.”

Ren stood.

His expression changed instantly.

Not cold exactly.

Controlled.

“Mika.”

“We were looking for you. Father said you disappeared.”

“I went for a walk.”

Jian stared at Xiuying.

“You’re living here?”

Xiuying stood.

“Yes.”

“With him?”

“No.”

Jian’s expression shifted.

Xiuying hated that she still recognized every version of his face.

Suspicion.

Jealousy.

Control.

“You’ve known him for two weeks.”

Xiuying almost laughed.

“And?”

“I’m just saying you should be careful.”

That made her laugh.

Actually laugh.

Jian frowned.

“What?”

“You.”

“What about me?”

“You stole my work, lied to your fiancée about who I was and slept with my best friend while we were engaged.”

Her smile disappeared.

“You don’t get to warn me about men.”

Mika looked sharply at Jian.

Ren said nothing.

Xiuying was glad.

She didn’t need him to.

Jian’s face hardened.

“You’re still doing this? Xiuying, art is competitive. Tokyo happened. Move on.”

Xiuying stepped closer.

“No.”

Jian stared at her.

“I spent days wondering whether you were right. Whether I wasn’t talented enough. Whether my paintings were too sad. Whether losing Tokyo meant I had failed.”

She shook her head.

“But you know what I’ve realized?”

Jian said nothing.

“You needed my work.”

His expression changed.

“I never needed yours.”

Silence.

That one hurt him.

Xiuying could tell.

Good.

She pointed toward the gate.

“Leave.”

Jian looked at Ren as though expecting him to intervene.

Ren simply said:

“You heard the artist.”

Mika grabbed Jian’s arm.

“Come on.”

They left.

The lantern disappeared beyond the gate.

Silence returned.

Ren rubbed his face.

“I apologize.”

“For them?”

“For arriving here drunk.”

“Good.”

“And for discussing you with my brother.”

“Better.”

“And for the floor.”

Xiuying stared.

“The floor?”

“It moved.”

She laughed again.

Ren stood.

“I should go.”

“Yes.”

He reached the gate.

“Ren.”

He turned.

Xiuying pointed toward painting fifteen.

“Before you go.”

He walked back.

She lifted the painting.

A man beneath an umbrella, holding it over everyone except himself.

Ren stared at it.

“Who is that?”

Xiuying shrugged.

“A man who spends so much time protecting everyone else that he doesn’t notice he’s standing in the rain.”

Ren’s expression changed.

“Is that me?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“It looks like me.”

“It doesn’t have a face.”

“I recognize the shoulders.”

“Go home, Ren.”

He laughed.

A real laugh.

Then he left.

⸻

The next morning, exactly at eight, the gate slid open.

Ren entered.

Perfectly sober.

He carried two coffees.

Xiuying looked at the clock.

“Eight.”

“I promised.”

He placed one coffee beside her.

Then looked at painting sixteen.

He didn’t mention what he’d almost said the night before.

Neither did she.

Not yet.

There were some things that shouldn’t be said because of sake.

Some things deserved daylight.

⸻

Day twenty arrived beneath a clear Kyoto sky.

Xiuying stood in front of her mirror wearing pale blue.

On the wall behind her were twenty paintings.

Beside them hung the engagement invitation.

For five days, she had considered throwing it away.

She never did.

Now she took it down.

She looked at herself.

Not Sakura.

Not Jian’s abandoned fiancée.

Not Ren’s mysterious painter from Chengdu.

Lin Xiuying.

An artist.

She slipped the invitation into her bag.

Then she picked up her blank sketchbook.

Whatever waited in Arashiyama, she would not go there to win Ren.

She would not go there to defeat Jian.

She would go because twenty days ago she couldn’t make a single stroke.

Now twenty paintings stood behind her.

That was hers.

No Sato could give it to her.

No Jian could take it away.

Outside, Tanaka’s car was waiting.

Xiuying closed the gate behind her.

Twenty paintings finished.

Eighty to go.

And somewhere beyond the bamboo forests of Arashiyama, the Sato family was waiting.

END OF CHAPTER 5