Hearing this hesitant yet determined question, Michael looked up, his fingertips unconsciously stroking the zipper of his sports backpack. The woman in front of him was surprisingly tall, wearing a Lululemon black tight sports suit that outlined her smooth muscle lines. Her hair was wet with sweat and stuck to her shiny forehead. The red blush after exercise dyed her cheeks, which made her skin look like a newly opened Hermès scarf. Her eyebrows were sharp as a knife. It was the business mortal enemy that Sophia had been talking about since college - Vivian Song.
He had no impression of this face. In the past five years, his world was filled with West Elm kitchenware and Sophia's Chanel laundry labels. Those names mentioned at the Upper East Side cocktail party would always remain in the words of his wife's complaints. At this moment, Vivian took the initiative to reach out her hand, and the Tiffany HardWear bracelet on her wrist shone coldly in the sun: "Mr. Michael, I've heard a lot about you. I'm Vivian Song, the founder of Vogue Advertising."
"Ms. Song." Michael shook her hand, and his fingertips touched the thin calluses on her palms - those were the marks left by years of holding a badminton racket. He noticed that the side of her sneakers was stained with grass clippings from Central Park, probably from falling when chasing robbers.
"That side kick just now was very neat." Vivian suddenly laughed and tapped his right leg with the racket. "I heard that you used to be a househusband? It doesn't seem like it." Her tone was direct, unique to Manhattan elites, and very much like the sharpness of Wall Street traders when analyzing K-lines.
Before Michael responded, a girl with a Chibi Maruko hairstyle suddenly jumped out and grabbed Vivian's sleeve and shook her: "Sister! Do you think this gentleman looks like Bucky in "The Falcon and the Winter Soldier"? That flying kick just now was so cool!"
"Olivia!" Vivian slapped her sister's hand away, but couldn't help curling her lips, "My sister just finished her AP exam, and her mind is still floating in the Marvel Universe."
Lillian immediately came over to talk, and the two girls were chatting enthusiastically about "Which roller coaster in the park has the strongest sense of weightlessness." Michael stepped aside and watched Vivian squat down to straighten her sister's hair rope. Suddenly, he thought of Sofia - she always wore Manolo Blahnik high heels, and even bent down to pick up a pen, she had to worry about the hem of her custom skirt getting wrinkled.
"Mr. Michael," Vivian handed over her phone as she turned around, the screen stopped at the Instagram QR code interface, "I owe you a favor. There will be a mixed doubles invitational tournament at the city gym next week. Would you like to come?"
Michael scanned the code and noticed that her phone wallpaper was a ginger cat squatting in a Prada briefcase: "My tennis skills are average."
"Me too." Vivian blinked, and her diamond earrings turned in the sun, "But I know which gym provides Ethiopian hand-brewed coffee, and the beans are limited edition Blue Bottle."
When bidding farewell to the Song sisters, Lillian grabbed his arm and shook it: "Brother! The way she looks at you is the same as the way I look at the newly released joint Supreme model! And her sister said she is single--"
"If you keep talking nonsense, you can only eat instant pasta from Trader Joe's tonight." Michael pinched his sister's cheek, but when he looked down, he saw the message sent by Vivian: [Remember to wear a wrist guard next Monday, my smash is very fierce. ]
He deleted the "understand" he had typed and retyped: [I am good at defensive counterattacks. ]
It was already dark when he returned to his apartment in Tribeca. Michael opened the foreign exchange trading software, and the exchange rate of Snow Dollar against the US dollar was fluctuating by 0.03%. The countdown on the system panel showed that there were still 17 hours left - the news of the neighboring country's military exercise would be released on time at zero o'clock Greenwich time, and the Snow Dollar would experience a cliff-like drop of 37% within 48 hours, and then the exchange rate would rebound to a historical high due to the lifting of the embargo on key resources.
He transferred the last five million US dollars to the trading account and increased the leverage to 1:500. The blue light of the screen reflected his profile, and the corners of his mouth still had ketchup on them when he was eating Shake Shack burgers with Lillian just now - the little girl insisted on challenging the signature "spicy to the point of soul leaving the body" chili ring, and finally stuck out her tongue because of the spiciness.
"It's time to rest." Michael sent a message to his sister and turned his phone to flight mode. The night outside the window was as dark as ink. He took out the business card Vivian handed over. It was printed with "Vogue Advertising" in gold font. On the back, a cartoon cat holding a badminton racket was scribbled in pen. There was a small smiley face on the tip of its tail.
Tomorrow, it's time to close the net. At this moment, Sophia was sitting in a townhouse in the Upper East Side, watching the newly released commercial of Vivian's company on her tablet. Her fingertips unconsciously slid across the familiar figure on the screen. Michael flashed in the corner of the screen, picking up the badminton that Vivian had dropped. This shot was processed into slow motion by the editor, just like the last glimpse of him packing his suitcase on the day of their divorce.