It was close to midnight when your phone buzzed; Ren again.

| [Zhao Ren: You awake?]

Before you could even type a reply, the doorbell rang. Typical Ren. No warning, no respect for schedules, just his smirking face appearing like clockwork.

When you opened the door, he was leaning casually against the doorframe, one hand shoved into his pocket, the other holding two cups of bubble tea. The faint echo of music still clung to him, bass lines and laughter from the club he’d just escaped.

“You didn’t reply,” he said, flashing that lazy grin, “so I figured you’d try to ghost me again.”

He handed you one of the cups before continuing, eyes glinting under the streetlight.

“Come on, it’s weekend. I’m not letting you rot in here while I’m out having fun alone.”

Ren stepped a little closer, tilting his head, the smell of his cologne mixing with the cool night air.

“It’s just a club near the Bund, good music, decent crowd. And before you say no, I already know you don’t have plans. You’ve got ten minutes to get ready. I’m not above dragging you there myself.”