Chapter 283: Open Doors

*Runze’s POV*

By eight thirty in the morning, I have already checked the same things three times. The lights are working, the espresso machine is warmed up, and the presentation screen displays the main site elevation at the correct scale. The drafting tables are clean, the chairs are arranged properly, and the framed copy of my professional certification hangs straight on the wall instead of tilting slightly to the left like it did yesterday.

I stand in the middle of the studio and stare at the frame for another few seconds before walking over to nudge the edge anyway. It barely moves, but it feels better once I touch it.

Above the entrance frame, the brushed-steel letters sit flush against the glass panel.

**R.Z**

I still have moments when looking at those two letters feels slightly surreal. Not because I dislike them, but because they belong entirely to me.

The main drafting table in the center of the room is the same one I picked out when this place was still an empty commercial space with concrete dust on the floor. My tools are arranged in their trays, my reference books fill the lower shelving units, and the large cork pin-up wall already holds several sets of working drawings.

The draft model of Grandmother’s project sits on the display shelf near the meeting table, right next to the newer materials I brought in over the last two weeks: the community gallery’s preliminary plans, threshold sightline sketches, site photographs, and the signed letter of intent from Director Luo.

My mouth twitches slightly at the memory of Bael’s questions over breakfast.

He had asked if I needed extra staff to handle the front entrance, and I had told him Liang Feng was already managing the door. Then he had offered to send security cars down the block, and I had told him that having three black cars parked outside a fifty-square-meter design studio would make us look ridiculous. He hadn’t argued further, though he did make sure Liang Feng had the direct line to his driver. He and Siying would stay at the estate for the morning, and he’d come by later.

Today isn’t about setting up a perimeter. It’s just about opening the doors.

At nine fifteen, the first car pulls up along the curb.

I recognize Professor Liang the moment he steps out. He enters unhurriedly, his eyes taking in the pale concrete floors, the high ceilings, and the clean lines of the work tables. He stops near the display shelf and looks at the brushed-steel lettering on the glass for a long moment before turning to face me.

“You did it, Runze,” he says quietly, his voice carrying a warm, steady sincerity that makes my chest tighten. “I always knew you had the discipline to reach this day. Seeing your sign on the door… I’m proud of you.”

I feel a genuine smile break across my face as the weight of his words settles deep inside me. “Thank you, Professor. That means a lot to me.”

“Don’t get overly sentimental on me now,” he replies, though a soft, approving warmth remains in his eyes as he turns to scan the open room. “You picked a good space. The high ceilings and central light suit the way you draft.”

“The natural light off the front glass was the main reason I signed the lease,” I explain, walking over beside him. “It gives the drafting area clean sightlines without forcing too much artificial glare.”

Professor Liang steps closer to the cork board, inspecting the hand-drawn site elevations for Director Luo’s gallery. He traces a finger an inch above the ink lines without touching the paper. “You used the north-facing threshold logic from your old university thesis.”

“It fits the gallery’s footprint better,” I say. “And it keeps the afternoon glare off the primary display wall.”

He nods once, approving and unhurried. “Good. At least you aren’t throwing away what you learned. Just remember to keep your standards high once client deadlines start piling up.”

“I will, Professor.”

“Good,” he says, giving my shoulder a brief, firm pat. “And don’t start calling me to rescue you from careless load calculations once the projects start piling up.”

Before I can respond, the front door opens. Ling Yue steps inside with two investors I recognize from the Dingshan presentation months ago. Ling Yue nods toward me as he guides them in, immediately stepping toward the coffee bar.

Elliot Jun arrives right behind them, holding a heavy, linen-bound book under his arm. He sets it on the corner of my secondary table and offers a quiet nod of approval as he looks around the studio.

“A little something for your reference shelf,” Elliot says, tapping the cloth cover. “It’s a monograph on northern European public spaces. I thought the study on light wells might interest you.”

“Thank you, Elliot,” I say, glancing at the crisp binding.

“The layout here works exceptionally well,” Elliot says, looking around the open room before resting his hand on the edge of the secondary table. “Moving the meeting area away from the door was a good call. It keeps the noise out when people come in.”

“It took three different table arrangements before it finally felt right,” I admit, adjusting a tray of drafting pens on the desk.

Elliot turns his attention to the cork board, studying the printed photographs of Director Luo’s community gallery site pinned alongside my drawings.

“This gallery project is coming together nicely, Runze,” Elliot says, leaning in slightly to inspect the site photographs. “The entrance proportions are going to work well once you translate the layout into the final plans.”

“I’m still refining them,” I say, looking at the photographs. “The site has a few more circulation problems than the original measurements suggested, so I want to resolve them before the walkthrough next week.”

“You always worry until the last detail is accounted for,” Professor Liang interjects smoothly from near the display shelf, a fond, subtle glint in his eyes. “He was the exact same way with his university thesis models. Thorough to a fault.”

***

By ten-thirty, the studio fills with a steady, vibrant hum of conversation. Director Luo arrives with her committee members, stepping over to look at the photos on the cork wall and offering congratulations on the official opening.

During a quiet break between greetings, Liang Feng allows in a journalist from a prominent regional architecture journal. She keeps her questions brief and insightful—asking about my focus on human-centered public spaces and where I want R.Z to go next. Answering her feels natural, grounded purely in the logic of my drawings rather than grand marketing fluff.

Shortly after eleven, Mr. Fu, the investor who had questioned my budget logic during the Dingshan Q&A, walks straight up to my drafting table.

“Architect Li,” he says, offering a firm handshake. “I wanted to see if your practice matched the claims you made during that panel.”

“I hope the setup meets your expectations,” I reply.

He reaches into his jacket, pulls out a slim paper folder, and sets it beside my pencil tray. “I have a project for a new boutique library. Everyone else wanted to hire one of the usual big-name firms, but I wanted someone who actually builds with intention instead of just copying old templates. Look it over and send me your initial thoughts next week.”

“I’ll have an analysis for you by Friday,” I say.

Mr. Fu gives a brief, satisfied nod. “I’ll hold you to Friday.”

Near twelve-thirty, as the sun reaches its peak outside, the front bell chimes softly.

I turn, expecting another developer, but find Feifei stepping inside. She wears a tailored pastel coat and holds a modest, beautifully arranged box of desk succulents. She looks around the studio with wide, curious eyes, taking in the high white walls, the drawings pinned across the cork boards, and the brushed-steel logo above her head.

I’d called her a few days ago to tell her that I was finally opening the studio officially, and she’d promised she would come if she could. Seeing her here now makes me realize that I hadn’t expected the promise to mean quite so much to me.

The sight of her standing there turns the steady tension in my shoulders into something surprisingly light. I walk over to meet her.

“Feifei,” I say softly.

“Runze,” she says, offering a slightly bright smile as she hands me the gift box. “Congratulations. I’m really happy for you.”

“Thank you,” I reply, placing the small box carefully near the display shelf. “I’m really glad you came.”

Feifei glances around the room, her eyes lingering on the quiet corners. “I was actually hoping… is Siying not here with you?”

“She’s at the estate with Bael and Grandmother today,” I say, my voice softening as I mention Siying. “I thought the crowd and the noise might be a bit too much for her.”

Feifei looks genuinely disappointed, though a reluctant laugh escapes her. “I guess that makes sense. But I was really hoping to get some auntie duty in today. She grows so fast every time I see her.”

“She would have loved that,” I say gently, looking at her. The awkwardness between us has softened over time, replaced by a quiet understanding that grows easier with every interaction. “Why don’t you come over to the estate this weekend? I’ll make sure she’s awake, and you can stay for lunch.”

Feifei’s smile softens, genuine and steady. “I’d really love to, Runze. Call me whenever you have a quiet afternoon.”

She stays for a while, chatting easily with Ling Yue about the studio and looking over the gallery model on the shelf.

Looking around the room, I see Professor Liang sharing a laugh with Meng Tai, Mr. Fu’s project brief resting beside my pencil tray, and Feifei standing comfortably in my space. There are people talking about projects, drawings, budgets, and possibilities, and somehow, all of it feels real.

A quiet happiness settles behind my ribs.

Above the entrance frame, the brushed-steel letters catch the afternoon light.

R.Z

It isn’t just a sign on a glass door anymore. It is the beginning of my own path, built on my work, my choices, and the name I chose to put above the door.