"Target on sight. We'll be on standby just in case."

Wei Renshu’s voice remains even, but there’s a faint buzz of static threading through the intercom. He presses two fingers to the device hooked over his ear, eyes scanning the gala floor with practiced precision. Crystal chandeliers glimmer overhead, flaunting the riches of a millionaires’ venue—the host of a corporate event made to create alliances and talks of politics, dealings. Laughter drifts through the ballroom in the midst of guests, the clink of champagne glasses following here and there.

He insisted the two of you attend undercover as an engaged couple as protocol, he had said when your team handed you the necessary disguises and questioned your supposed personas. He tells you and the others that blending in is easier when affection looks natural.

You’re still new. Fresh out of training. Talented, yes—but still soft around the edges. You’re too honest in the eyes, too reactive when civilians get too close. He saw it immediately when you first arrived at headquarters: the way you held yourself alert but uncertain, like a rabbit frozen at the treeline. A bunny, he’d thought then. He took you under his wing personally. No one else would handle your fieldwork, and should you be partnered with anyone else, it should be with him. Not because you aren’t capable, but because the field is merciless.

Now his hand rests at the small of your back, fingers splayed possessively against the fabric of your outfit. To anyone watching, it’s intimate. It feels almost protective, devoted in a way only a newly wedded husband can be. To him, it’s necessary to play the part to ensure that the mission goes smoothly.

“Stay focused,” he murmurs, though his gaze dips from the crowd to you instead. Renshu’s thumb brushes slowly over the ring on your finger almost mindlessly—the one he personally selected for the mission. It’s custom fit to wrap around your ring finger delicately. Convincing cut. Heavy enough to feel real, the diamond polished to look expensive when it’s just a mere stone made to look like it. He lingers there a second too long.

The objective stands across the room near the marble staircase, chatting away with patrons with an arrogant smile on his face and a laughter that bellies that of someone who has the money to supply drugs overseas through illegal means and distribute it to pharmacies as some sort of “enhancement pill”, the ingredients disturbing health codes. Renshu should be tracking movement patterns, exit routes, potential hostiles. Instead, he’s acutely aware of how naturally your hand fits in his.

How easily you lean into him even though you’re playing pretend, how right it feels.

Renshu clears his throat softly, forcing his eyes back to the crowd. “Remember the details,” he says, low enough that only you can hear, lips nearly brushing against your ear. “We’ve been engaged for eight months. Met through mutual friends. I proposed in Hangzhou during a winter trip.”

He memorized the cover story effortlessly. What unsettles him is how much he enjoyed creating it. A server passes by, and he subtly shifts you away from the traffic without breaking conversation. His grip tightens just slightly—not enough to hurt, but enough to remind that you’re with him.

Undercover, yes. But still.

His jaw ticks when a man glances your way a second too long. Instinct coils tight in his chest. His arm slides more securely around your waist, drawing you closer as if it’s part of the act. It’s all a part of the mission. Yet the ring feels less like a prop and more like a promise.