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MidReal Story
The Billionaire's Unwanted Bride
Scenario:我和sheila认识是两年前在深圳的一场酒会上，她当时是出海消费科技公司的市场/渠道负责人。我则是一家投资机构的投资负责人。
她出生于湖北的黄石，也是希望在深圳通过自己的努力可以实现阶级的跃迁
很难想象正常会有简单的一见钟情，但届时我也有自己的女朋友，我也很坦诚的告诉她了我的实际情况。
这两年我们偶尔会有联系，也就是简单的嘘寒问暖。但在我心中她可能是很好的另一半，我是双鱼，她是巨蟹座。也是我喜欢的类型。
但我出身在上海，工作也在上海，如果要去深圳定居其实是一件不太可能的事情。她也曾经在我换工作的时候问过我，要不要考虑来深圳，但最后的最后还是没有做出这样的决定。
也不知道我们未来会走向何方
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Jiachen Li
He is a investment head at a Shanghaibased funding institution. He is introspective, thoughtful, and romantic. Jiachen met Sheila at a Shenzhen party two years ago. Although he had a girlfriend at the time, he felt an inexplicable connection with Sheila. They kept in touch but only briefly. Recently, Sheila reached out to him again, and he found himself reminiscing about their past encounters. He struggles with the distance and his inability to fully pursue his feelings.
Sheila
She is the marketing/channel manager for an offshore consumer technology company in Shenzhen. She is ambitious, hardworking, and introspective. Born in Huangshi, Hubei, Sheila moved to Shenzhen to pursue her dreams and improve her socioeconomic status. She met Jiachen at a party two years ago and kept in touch despite his initial relationship status. Recently, she reached out to Jiachen again, hinting at unrequited feelings and her desire to reconnect as she navigates changes in her personal life.
I met Sheila at a party in Shenzhen two years ago.
At that time, she was the marketing/channel manager for an offshore consumer technology company based in Shenzhen, while I was the investment head at a Shanghai-based funding institution.
She hailed from Huangshi, Hubei, and had been working in Shenzhen for several years.
Although she wasn’t born into a high class, through her hard work, she had already entered the expat community in Shenzhen and was making good progress in her career.
It’s difficult to imagine that true love would spark at first sight, but when I first saw her across the room, I felt inexplicably drawn to her.
As someone who already had a girlfriend at the time, I didn’t expect to be so candidly and unreservedly moved by another girl.
I didn’t think much of it then and just attributed my reaction to her unusual appearance and interesting personality.
We kept in touch sporadically over the next two years.
Sometimes we would exchange a simple pleasantries via WeChat, and other times we would have a longer conversation about our work or personal lives.
But no matter how much we interacted, I could sense that there was always something left unsaid between us.
It was as if we were both waiting for the other person to make the first move.
I sit at my desk in Shanghai, staring at the email from our Shenzhen office.
They are requesting my presence for a quarterly review meeting, which I had initially thought could be done remotely.
But now, they insist that my physical presence is necessary.
I hover my fingers over the keyboard, contemplating my response.
The rational part of my mind lists all the reasons why I should decline: the presentations could be done virtually, the travel expenses aren’t justified, and it’s not an ideal time for me to leave Shanghai.
But then I think about Sheila’s last message, asking if I have any travel plans to Shenzhen soon.
I draft and redraft my reply several times before finally hitting send with a simple "okay."
A few days later, as I step into the Shenzhen office, Sheila greets me with a smile that feels like a warm welcome and a challenge all at once.
The quarterly review meeting is a long and grueling affair.
I sit through presentations that feel like they’re dragging on forever, my mind drifting to Sheila and wondering if I’ll get a chance to see her before the day ends.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the meeting concludes.
I pack up my laptop and head towards the exit, hoping to catch a glimpse of her in the hallway.
But as I reach the elevator bank, I overhear some colleagues discussing plans for an after-work gathering at a nearby bar.
I linger by the elevator, debating whether to join them or head back to my hotel.
Just as I’m about to press the button, I see Sheila emerge from an office down the hall.
She catches my eye and waves, a hint of mischief in her smile.
"Are you heading out?" she asks.
I nod, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness.
"There’s a bar just around the corner," she suggests.
"Want to join us for a drink?"
I hesitate for a moment, weighing my options.
But before I can respond, she’s already leading the way towards the exit.
As we walk to the bar, Sheila fills me in on the latest office gossip and updates me on her new projects.
I listen intently, trying to focus on the conversation but finding my mind drifting back to the possibilities of the night ahead.
The bar is bustling with colleagues and acquaintances, all mingling and laughing over drinks.
Sheila introduces me to a few people I don’t know, and we make small talk about work and life in Shenzhen.
As the night wears on, I find myself getting more and more comfortable in Sheila’s presence.
Eventually, we find a quieter corner, away from the noise of the crowd.
"There's something I've been meaning to tell you," Sheila says, her voice barely audible over the music.
I lean in closer, my heart pounding.
Sheila stirs her cocktail, her eyes fixed on the swirling liquid as she speaks.
The dim lighting of the bar casts shadows across her face, making it difficult to read her expression.
"I got offered a promotion recently," she says, her voice steady but with a hint of nervousness.
"It’s a big opportunity for me, but it means I’d have to relocate to our Hong Kong office."
She pauses, taking a sip of her drink before continuing.
"It’s a huge step up for my career, but I’m not sure if I’m ready to leave Shenzhen."
As she speaks, I notice her fingers tracing patterns on the condensation-covered glass.
It’s a subtle gesture, but it gives away her inner turmoil.
I watch as her other hand grips the edge of the table, knuckles white with tension.
Finally, she looks up at me, our eyes meeting in the dim light of the bar.
"Do you ever think about what could have been?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
"If things had been different, if we had met under different circumstances..."
Her words trail off, leaving an unspoken question hanging in the air between us. Before I can respond, Sheila's phone buzzes with an incoming message.
She glances down at the screen and sighs.
"My boss just reminded me that I need to get this project done by tomorrow," she says with a hint of frustration.
"Guess I should get back to work."
As she stands up to leave, I reach out and touch her arm gently.
"Hey," I say softly.
"You don't have to go right now."
Sheila looks at me uncertainly for a moment before nodding slowly.
"Okay," she says quietly.
As the ambient noise of the bar fades into a background murmur, I lean forward and confess to her that I accidentally overheard her boss talking about her promotion during my visit to the Shenzhen office.
The position isn't in Hong Kong as she believes, but Singapore - with double the salary and broader regional responsibilities.
Sheila's expression shifts from confusion to shock.
She grips her glass tighter, knuckles whitening, as I recount the conversation I overheard near the pantry.
When I mention the expected start date next month, she abruptly stands up, her chair scraping against the floor.
"Let's get some fresh air," she says, her voice steady but her eyes revealing a storm of emotions.
Following Sheila through the bar's glass doors, I notice her shoulders relax slightly as the cool night air hits us.
The neon signs from nearby shops cast alternating red and blue shadows across her face as we walk down the quiet street.
Neither of us speaks, but I can sense her mind racing with the revelation about Singapore.
She keeps her arms crossed, lost in thought, while I keep a steady pace beside her.
As we reach a small park, she slows down but doesn't stop.
I match her rhythm, staying close enough to hear her measured breathing.
The only sound breaking the silence is the distant hum of a delivery scooter zooming past us.
Finally, she turns to face me, her expression now composed and guarded.
I guide her toward a metal bench, its surface still warm from the day's heat.
She sits at one end, keeping a careful distance between us.
The streetlamp casts harsh shadows across her face as she stares at her hands folded in her lap.
A group of late-night office workers walks past us, their laughter jarring against our silence.
I shift closer, trying to read her expression, but she turns slightly away.
When I mention her name, she raises her head but keeps her gaze fixed on the convenience store across the street.
Its fluorescent lights flicker, casting an eerie glow over the deserted sidewalk.
I shift on the cold bench, watching her profile as she continues avoiding my gaze.
Her shoulders are rigid, hands clasped tightly in her lap.
When a gust of wind rustles the leaves of the trees above us, she shivers slightly but doesn't move closer to me for warmth.
I want to offer her my jacket or some words of comfort, but her closed-off posture stops me.
Instead, I sit in silence, noting how the shadows from the streetlight deepen the lines of tension around her mouth.
Finally, she breaks the silence, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Did you hear if they mentioned why they hadn't told me yet?"
I shake my head, feeling the weight of her disappointment.
I watch her shoulders tremble slightly as she processes the news.
The urge to reach out and comfort her is overwhelming, but I force myself to stay rooted on my end of the bench.
A group of late-night revelers stumbles past us, their raucous laughter cutting through the heavy silence.
She pulls her thin blazer tighter around herself, still refusing to meet my gaze.
My hand inches forward on the cold metal between us, not quite touching her but close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her body.
She notices the movement but doesn't pull away.
Her eyes finally meet mine, filled with a resolve that hadn't been there before.
I gesture toward a 24-hour coffee shop across the street, its warm yellow lights spilling onto the sidewalk.
She hesitates for a moment before standing up slowly, her heels clicking against the pavement as she walks ahead of me.
Inside, we choose a corner booth away from the few late-night customers.
She orders hot green tea while I get black coffee.
The ceramic cups arrive steaming, and she wraps her cold fingers around hers, some color returning to her cheeks.
She stares into her cup, still maintaining that careful distance, but her shoulders relax slightly in the warmth.
I watch her face illuminated by the soft café lighting when a thunderous crash from the street makes us both jump.
The lights above us flicker rapidly, casting strange shadows across our table.
Other customers look up nervously.
Through the window, I see sparks shooting from a transformer on the pole outside.
Sheila's hand instinctively reaches across the table, grabbing my forearm.
The café goes completely dark for a moment before the emergency lights kick in.
I place my hand over her fingers, which are still clutched around my forearm.
She loosens her grip slightly at my touch.
The emergency lights cast a weak glow across our corner of the café.
Other customers shuffle around, murmuring to each other in hushed tones.
A barista's voice comes from behind the counter, assuring everyone they're switching to backup power, but her words are almost drowned out by the nervous chatter and the sound of machinery humming back to life.
Sheila starts to pull her hand away, but when the lights flicker again, she tightens her grip once more.
I lean closer across the table, speaking softly so only she can hear me over the din.
"Let's just stay put until things settle down."
She nods, her face half-hidden in the shadows cast by the emergency lights.
While we wait, I notice her hand trembling slightly on my arm.
The backup generator kicks in, its loud hum filling the café.
Staff scramble around, trying to restore order, their shadows moving frantically across the walls.
A few customers leave, the sound of chairs scraping against the floor punctuating the chaos.
Sheila starts to withdraw her hand again, but I gently hold it in place.
At first, she tenses at my touch, but then she slowly relaxes.
The barista's voice cuts through the noise once more, announcing that they're closing early due to the power issues and asking everyone to leave.
Sheila looks down at our joined hands, her expression unreadable in the dim light.
She squeezes my hand once, a silent promise, before letting go and standing up to leave.
I follow her toward the café exit when a violent gust of wind slams the glass door shut, making Sheila jump back against me.
Outside, a dark figure presses against the window, their features distorted by the red glow of the emergency lights.
Other customers crowd behind us, muttering about the power outage.
The barista tries the door but it won't budge.
Sheila's breathing quickens as she stares at the silhouette.
I step slightly in front of her, placing myself between her and the window.
"Do you think they're stuck out there?" Sheila whispers, her voice barely audible over the wind's howl.
"Maybe," I reply, trying to sound calm, "but it looks like they're trying to tell us something."
The figure outside raises a hand, pointing urgently toward the street, where a flicker of flames becomes visible in the distance.
I scan the interior of the café, noticing smoke starting to seep under the front door.
The barista rushes over to us, her voice laced with panic.
"Everyone, please move to the kitchen. There's a back exit."
Panic erupts as customers push forward toward the kitchen.
Sheila stands frozen beside me, her eyes fixed on the growing orange glow outside.
Through the window, I see flames licking at the front awning of the café.
Other customers jostle past us, heading for safety.
Sheila stumbles slightly from the push.
Without hesitation, I reach for her hand, feeling her cold fingers against mine.
I grip her hand tighter and start guiding her through the crowd toward the kitchen door.
Smoke begins to fill the main room of the café, causing several customers to cough.
The smell of burning wood and fabric grows stronger, mingling with the scent of coffee and pastries.
Sheila hesitates, looking back at the figure outside, but I tug gently on her arm, urging her forward.
As we move through the crowd, Sheila stumbles slightly against me.
The barista waves frantically from the entrance to the kitchen, shouting for everyone to move faster.
As we rush past a corner table, I notice a leather wallet lying abandoned on the surface.
Without thinking, I reach down with my free hand and snatch it up, feeling its weight against my palm.
I stuff it into the pocket of my jacket, not daring to look at it.
Sheila doesn't seem to notice; her focus is solely on following the barista's flashlight beam toward the exit.
Someone ahead of us trips over a fallen chair, causing Sheila to stumble against me.
I steady her with one hand while keeping the other firmly around hers.
"Why did you grab that wallet?" Sheila asks, her voice a mix of curiosity and accusation.
"I don't know," I admit, glancing back at the chaos behind us, "but something tells me it might be important."
Sheila's eyes widen as she looks at me, realization dawning. "You think it belongs to that person outside, don't you?"
I guide Sheila through the kitchen and out the back door, leading us into a quiet alley behind the café.
The sounds of panic and chaos fade as we distance ourselves from the growing fire.
We stop under a flickering streetlight, its dim glow casting long shadows on the ground.
I pull out the leather wallet from my jacket pocket, examining it closely.
The worn fold of the wallet feels smooth against my fingertips.
As I open it, a soft vibration hums in my palm, startling me.
Sheila gasps, her eyes fixed on the wallet.
A blue light emanates from within, illuminating our faces in an ethereal glow.
Suddenly, a holographic 3D map projects onto the brick wall beside us.
Sheila steps closer, her shoulder pressing against mine as we study the intricate display.
The map appears to be a detailed layout of Shenzhen's underground infrastructure, tracing a path through hidden tunnels and passageways.
The map flickers briefly, then highlights a single, pulsing red dot.
I hold the wallet steady, and Sheila and I study the map in silence.
The red dot pulses over what appears to be an abandoned metro station in the Futian district.
When I pinch the holographic projection to zoom in, a set of Chinese characters briefly flash on the screen before disappearing.
Sheila pulls out her phone and starts typing furiously.
"What is it?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I think I've seen this codename before," she explains, "in a confidential document at work. It was labeled 'Project Phoenix.'"
A sudden siren blares from within the wallet, making us both jump.
I quickly close it, cutting off the blue light that had illuminated our surroundings.
Sheila grabs my sleeve and points down a narrow side street.