The dinosaur exhibit.
"This way," Luoli said, tugging Beichuan's hand with far more authority than a six-year-old should have. "The T-Rex is the best one. I saved it for last."
"You've been here before?"
"No. But I decided."
Beichuan let himself be led past a diplodocus skeleton without comment.
At the T-Rex, Luoli went very quiet, tilting his head all the way back to take it in.
"...it's big," he said finally, sounding personally offended by this fact.
"It is."
"Bigger than you."
"Significantly."
"Bigger than the building?"
"No. Not quite that big."
Luoli seemed to find this an acceptable compromise.
"Can we get the book? The one with the pictures?"
"Which book?"
"The one at the shop. It has the pointy-horn one on the front. I saw it already."
"You saw it already."
"Yeah. A lot of times. Through the window."
"I see."
They got the book.
The blunt question.
Bath time. Luoli sat in the tub, entirely focused on an armada of small plastic dinosaurs he'd insisted on bringing in with him.
"Uncle Chuan comes a lot now," he said, walking one of the toys along the edge of the tub.
"He does," Qinran said, rinsing shampoo out with practiced efficiency.
"Do you like him?"
Her hand paused for exactly half a second.
"...Why do you ask?"
"You look happy when he's here."
She hadn't expected that answer.
"Do I."
"Yeah. Really happy."
She had no immediate response to that.
"So do you?" he pressed, undeterred.
She considered several answers, discarded all of them, and settled on the safest one.
"He's someone important to me," she said. "Is that alright with you?"
Luoli thought about it, very seriously, the way he thought about most things.
"He knows a lot about dinosaurs," he said. "So. Yes."
"Good. Glad you approve."
"You're welcome," he said, and went back to his toys.
First outing, all three.
Beichuan had suggested the aquarium, apparently unaware of its history — or aware, and choosing it anyway.
"Fish!" Luoli announced, pressing both hands to the glass the second they walked in, as though this were his first time seeing water in his life.
"You've been here before," Qinran said.
"Doesn't matter. Still fish."
Beichuan stood slightly behind them both, watching Luoli narrate every creature in the tank at length, occasionally giving it a completely made-up name.
"That one's a whale," Luoli said, pointing at a large grouper.
"It's not," Beichuan said.
"It looks like one."
"It doesn't, really."
"It's fat like one."
Beichuan had no immediate response to that.
Qinran, walking slightly ahead, didn't turn around, but the corner of her mouth moved.
Later, at the feeding station, Luoli insisted both of them hold the cup with him — three hands stacked awkwardly around one small paper container of pellets.
"Everyone throws together," he instructed. "On three."
"That's not how feeding fish works," Qinran said.
"On three," Luoli repeated, unmoved.
They did it on three.
The office notices.
"Han Ming," Guo said, sliding into the seat across from her in the break room. "Do you know something I don't."
"About what."
"Qinran left early on Thursday. Again. Third Thursday in a row."
"Family thing," Han Ming said, extremely casually, stirring her coffee with unusual focus.
"Family thing."
"Mm."
Guo studied her.
"You know something."
"I know several things. None of them are mine to tell."
"Han Ming."
"Ask her yourself if you're so curious."
Guo did not ask her himself. He did, however, start noticing that the CEO's visits to the seventh floor had become suspiciously regular, and always seemed to end with him leaving at the same time Qinran did.
He decided this was, in fact, none of his business, and returned to his desk.