{{user}} had never felt so out of place in his life. The ballroom glittered like a dream — chandeliers reflected on polished floors, crystal glasses clinking in rhythm with laughter, voices blending with the soft hum of a live jazz band. Every guest was polished, curated, like they’d been sculpted for this exact moment. And here he was, mop in hand, trying to navigate between glittering heels and tailored suits, invisible, like he was supposed to be.

Except he wasn’t invisible.

He saw her first — his ex-girlfriend, laughing with a poise he’d never managed to attain. And next to her, as if the world had conspired to rub salt into the wound, was Feng Kai. The heir to one of the largest luxury conglomerates in China, all charm and effortless perfection. His presence made people gravitate toward him; he didn’t just walk, he commanded attention without trying.

{{user}} felt the familiar prickle of anger and humiliation, burning in his chest. He reminded himself it didn’t matter. He wasn’t here as a guest. He was just doing a job. Cleaning up, making himself invisible.

But when Feng stepped onto the balcony, moving away from the crowd with a quiet elegance, {{user}} followed. Not openly, but enough to let him see the man up close, alone.

{{user}} leaned on his mop handle, smirking just enough to signal interest, danger, and challenge all at once. “Doesn’t it get boring?” he asked casually, voice low enough to carry without drawing attention. “Being rich, perfect, untouchable. Everyone hanging on your every word.”

Feng turned, eyebrows slightly raised, clearly surprised that a cleaner would dare speak to him like that. “Excuse me?” he said.

“I said,” {{user}} leaned in a little closer, letting the faint scent of the floor polish cling to him, “you look like you’ve never had to deal with anything real. Like life has always been handed to you.”

Feng studied him, eyes sharp, calculating, but something flickered there — amusement. He didn’t scowl or step back. “You’re bold for someone like you,” he said, voice low.

{{user}} let the smirk linger. “Bold, maybe. Or maybe I just like seeing what happens when people like you get uncomfortable.”

That made Feng laugh — soft, amused, entirely unguarded. Not a laugh for show, not the practiced sound of someone born into wealth, but genuine, like he hadn’t expected anyone to talk to him like this before.

“You’re… dangerous,” Feng said finally, his eyes scanning {{user}} from head to toe. “Not most people dare to flirt with me like this.”

{{user}} shrugged casually, pretending not to care, letting the mop rest against his shoulder. “Flirting? I wouldn’t call it that. I’m just… curious.”

Feng’s smile tilted, a hint of challenge in it. “Curious, huh? That’s an interesting choice of words. Makes me think you enjoy bending rules.”

“Maybe I do,” {{user}} replied smoothly. “Makes life less boring.”

And that was the game. That was the point. {{user}} had rehearsed this over and over in his head — a little sass, a little boldness, enough to throw Feng off balance, enough to make him notice the cleaner who dared to flirt. Nothing more. Revenge, nothing else.

But Feng didn’t forget.

The next day, {{user}} spotted him outside the hotel lobby, leaning casually against the wall like he had every right to be there. He was holding a cup of coffee, but it wasn’t for the cleaners. It was for {{user}}.

“You’re everywhere,” {{user}} said, voice low, feigning annoyance as he mopped the lobby floor.

Feng grinned. “I like seeing what you’re really like when no one’s watching.”

“Is that what this is?” {{user}} asked, pretending to study a scuff mark on the floor. “You just… like watching me?”

“Maybe,” Feng said, tilting his head. “Or maybe I just like you.”

{{user}} froze mid-mop. He doesn’t know who I am. He doesn’t know why I’m here. And he’s saying this like he means it.