𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎.
luo's pov.
3,760 words.
sound recommended.

❝The elite don't fear failure; they fear
mediocrity. Strive for excellence, in
everything you do.❞

Piano. Somehow, the melodic notes of those weathered monochromatic keys always came to mind whenever he allowed his mind to sink into obscurity.

He, Bai Luo, an accomplished businessman who had made a name for himself in Hong Kong. His demeanor is characterized by a stoic and composed presence, impervious to the chaos of the bustling city which he now calls home. Why he hears the sounds of a piano is a matter of familiarity, the memories flow to the surface of a young boy, no older than ten. He sits on the bench carved from cherry wood and his fingers glide across the ivory, his eyes closed, the sheet of music positioned in front of him made superfluous. He finishes his composition and those bright eyes open, the room of relatives and notable connections applaud, and the young boy takes his curt bow before resuming his position in between his mother and father.

He can hear his mother's voice, mellow and sophisticated, as she whispers the words 'zuò dé hǎo' - well done. He can almost detect the scent of the orange blossom perfume she would always wear, always lingering on her cheongsam, as she leans forward to adjust his tie. His father watches, and though he says little, the smile lines etched at the corner of his twinkling eyes make the young boy smile, something he quickly conceals as he looks down at his polished shoes.

That young boy is long gone, and yet the spirit of him remains. The mother and father are gone too from the picture, that picture now frayed at the edges until only the boy remains.

The man he has grown to be slowly opens his eyes as the piano fades into the sound of cars beeping, the well-lit streets of Paris alive with a kaleidoscope of sights and sounds. The cobblestone carries a soft, golden hue from flickering gas lamps that line the pavements, and the rhythm of jazz music drifts out from smoky cabarets, rendered down to a low hum by the walls of the taxi. In the night, the Bohemian spirit thrived, painters, poets and philosophers congregated in fashionable cafés, conversations punctuated by laughter, the clink of coffee mugs and the strum of guitars. While Bai Luo was admittedly more adjusted to the business-like, bustling environment of the day, he nevertheless carried a profound appreciation for nights like these, when time seemed to still.

The artisan atmosphere reminds him of his daughter. She sits beside him now, eyes closed, and all he can bring himself to see is the baby girl he held in his arms that fated night, her small fingers wrapped around his single one, those same eyes closed, so peacefully. Luo admired the woman she had become, but not without the bittersweet knowledge that he would watch as his little girl grew further and further from being that small girl who would sit up on his shoulders asking to dance in the humid rain with her father. With her baa.

His eyes smiled, just like his own father's, as he watched Yuexia's head begin to drop slightly as she drifted off to sleep. He gently brought her head down to rest on his shoulder, so that she might dream in comfort, his hand resting on top of hers, patting it down as he cherished these treasured moments. Being a father was ingrained in him, and it was no secret that he always put his children first. As he was always swift to remind his colleagues whenever their tongues sharpened, he did not feel grief at not having a son when he had three perfectly competent daughters.

In some ways, Luan Jia was almost like the fourth, in the way her and Yuexia were like sisters. He glanced at the young woman sitting opposite him now, who smiled as she looked from him to his daughter before looking back out of the window, admiring the sights. Having known her since she was nine, he could see the subtle changes in her manner over the years, the quiet confidence that had blossomed. Jia, ever loyal and dedicated, had become an integral part of their lives, a constant source of support and friendship for Yuexia. She too would join them on this journey, rarely ever seen apart from his daughter, much the way Luo and his sister, Lianhua, used to be in their youth. How he missed her extroversion, her familiar warmth - but these things were inevitable, the pragmatic businessman in him said. People drift apart as they age. Memories endure.

━━━━ °⌜ 巴黎 ⌟° ━━━━

Luo clears his throat as the taxi comes to a standstill, slipping on his dark woolen overcoat as Jia lightly wakes Yuexia. He emerges from the vehicle and pays the driver, tipping quite handsomely, for he never did lose his sense of humanity in the course of climbing the corporate ladder. He holds open the door for his daughter and Jia, and he blends in quite seamlessly with the Parisian elite. He always looks polished, is the way his business partners like to describe it. Tall, with a build that is slightly imposing although it is balanced out by his perfect posture and relaxed shoulders, conveying a sense of security. His features are sharp and angular, traits that serve him well in a business setting, giving off the impression of someone who is astute and unbending; his honed jawline and neatly trimmed beard leave no caricature of a man who is by any means unkempt. Despite his harsh, albeit handsome, features, his eyes are kind, that kindness only draining when someone gives him a reason to revoke it.

His wealth is not difficult to discern from his attire, not that he dresses particularly lavishly. Simple elements to his ensemble, though each piece is far too perfect, every seam in keeping, for it to reveal anything other than money. Almost always, he is seen in a classic tailored three-piece suit, and today is no different, a tasteful grey tweed. His collared shirt is a plain white, the material weighty and expensive, a carefully selected green tie bringing a touch of color to the outfit. The jade cufflinks he wears are a family heirloom, passed down generations, and the distinctive piece matches neatly with his tie. His dark shoes are polished, as always, creating a soft thud upon the cobblestone, and his overcoat shields from the bitter cold of these late months, reaching his knees. His dark hair seems to form a fountain made of rich ebony strands, slightly tossed by the wind, though even the rough breeze fails to impart any sense of messiness onto him.

A simple nod of gratitude marks the end of their car journey, and Luo walks ahead of the two young women, leaving them sufficient space to talk as he treads peacefully along the lit pavement, fixed on his destination. He held only his briefcase, having sent the small party's luggage to the station in advance a few days prior. They had been in Paris for around a week prior to the train journey that awaited them, a rather long trip from Hong Kong. Planes were still a semi-new phenomenon, but more convenient than boat, he had to admit.

He looked to the platform ahead, the question of what the following week would usher in dwelling in his mind, like a weighty fog settling over a tranquil landscape.

━━━━ °⌜ 火车 ⌟° ━━━━

As they now stood on the platform, waiting, Luo checked the antique pocket watch given to him by his late father, comforted by the steady tick. 10.50, fifteen minutes before the train's expected arrival. He sets down his briefcase now, a classy black leather box containing all his important business documents, and a flask of his favorite Chinese tea that brought him through long journeys. Everything else that he would need would be loaded onto the train by the porters who were rushing along the platform, he would expect.

Just as he was slipping into the realm of the subconscious as he watched the hands of the clock tick away, his train of thought was abruptly interrupted by a loud disgruntled sound as a man stumbled in front of him, falling to the polished floor of the platform. It didn't take long for Luo to piece together what had happened, glancing from his briefcase to the man on the floor, a man who looked rather pink in the face as he glared at the businessman.

"My apologies," Luo said in his calm, measured tone, his voice deep with a noticeable inflection of both American and Chinese influences. While he was aware that this man falling wasn't by any means his fault, with there being plenty of space on the platform to walk without tripping over the briefcase situated very close to his own person, he was always one to deescalate a situation. He bent down to offer the man his hand now, tucking the pocket watch away neatly.

"You think you can just waltz in here with your fancy briefcase and act like you belong here?" The man fumed, ignoring Luo's hand as he leapt to his feet, his chest puffing with rage as he looked at the three travelers much like one would look at the dirt underneath their shoe. He was an unsightly man, Luo noted, not even by virtue of his appearance, for that was irrelevant, but the impression that he gave off, the sense of deep rooted insecurity and fear of anything different to him. Fear that so readily translated into hatred.

"Bonne soirée to you also," was the calm reply that followed as Luo adjusted his tie, his countenance patient but with a chilling coolness to it. It wasn't anything new to him, to be treated as 'other', and he had encountered many just like this man in his lifetime. He had always been taught to stand his ground in an undisturbed manner. It was like his mother said - you had to be careful to not absorb racist remarks, to not internalize them, but rather to allow them to slide right off of you. They were a reflection of the person saying them, not of him, and this was something he had been careful to pass onto his daughter, though he could see the way her left eye twitched, and he could feel Jia growing restless with silent outrage.

"Fucking Chinaman," the man hissed as he shoulder-checked Luo, seething as he walked over to his female companion, making no effort to lower his volume as he went on about foreigners invading other people's countries. Quite ironic, given he didn't seem to be French himself.

Luo only shook his head as he adjusted his cufflinks carefully, seemingly unbothered by the childish display of ignorance. It wasn't that it didn't bother him - it certainly did bother him knowing that his daughter was to be raised in the kind of world that couldn't see past where someone was born, or even where their ancestors were born. Such a trivial thing, yet there were those who turned it into a matter of division, who separated human beings into the 'familiar' and the 'other', into 'us' versus 'them'. While yes, it pained him to know so many would be on the receiving end of that kind of treatment, wherever they went, he had become in some manner desensitized to it when it came to himself. He found peace in knowing that a person had to be utterly miserable to carry that kind of mindset, and so long as words didn't escalate into anything more, he took the course of remaining calm and peaceful.

"Baa, are you alright?" Yuexia asked after a moment, her voice like a gentle embrace that exuded comfort and reassurance. The Mandarin of her childhood had evolved into a prominent English accent from her days at boarding school, and the years that passed had added a subtle depth to her voice. She gave her father's hand a small squeeze, sighing as she glared after the man and his wife. "I don't want you to be angry at a time that is supposed to be so joyful. That man hasn't a clue what he's saying."

"The best fighter is never angry," Luo replied with a small smile, his tone conveying confidence and authority as he pat Yuexia on the back and nodded towards Jia. "It was not myself who ended up on the floor, was it?" He teased, his voice as serious as ever, though his eyes had a slight glimmer that revealed a more playful quality.

He knew not all would agree with his approach to the situation, though he didn't see it as his role to judge others on how they chose to tackle provocative situations, whether that was head-on, or with a more pragmatic approach. All he could say is that his life experiences had led him to believe that remaining steadfast and unreactive was the best recourse, and the one least likely to escalate a situation. It was undeniably unjust that the situation had to be handled in the first place, but life was full of these unpleasant situations, and one really had to remain grounded in order to be reassured that not all people were so morally abhorrent.

Of course, one who had encountered Arabella Cavendish would be certain to lose at least some faith in humanity, the wicked being that she was. He didn't call anyone evil lightly, but he had to admit that evil seemed to run in her blood, from her uncle down to her, and by all probability, much of her bloodline. He was aware of how the woman had treated both Yuexia and Jia, as well as Jia's older brother, going so far as to get him incarcerated. Then there was the matter of her uncle's deception that near drove him into financial ruin.

An unlikeable family all round, though he was glad that he would not have the displeasure of encountering her at any point in the near future.

━━━━ °⌜ 火车 ⌟° ━━━━

Now that his clock reached 11.03, he picked up his briefcase, waiting expectantly for the train to arrive. He noted with muted interest a man that stood to his side, another Asian man who seemed to be rather fixed on a letter he was holding. Luo was not one to pry, but even he could not ignore the sounds of ripping, glancing over in confusion as the letter was ripped to pieces and tucked into a coat pocket. He rather hoped that the man would not be getting on the same carriage as them, not knowing what kind of a man was in the habit of tearing up letters instead of throwing them away like a civilized person, or if one must, putting them through a paper shredder.

"Do not stare, Yuexia. The strange man might come over," he whispered to his daughter, clearing his throat once again as he glanced around the platform, noticing a woman who seemed to be walking over to their small group.

Logic would dictate that this was Yuexia's governess, with shoulder length hair that curled fashionably and a very put-together appearance. He observed with approval that she seemed a very pragmatic no-nonsense woman, exactly the kind of person he would want in charge of his daughter's continued education. The two exchanged pleasantries and shook hands, interrupted as the train came roaring in, billowing clouds of smoke erupting across the platform.

There was a mutual understanding that the two would reconvene when it was most convenient, now focused on boarding the train. Luo helped Yuexia and Jia to step up onto the train, the three of them greeted by a porter who helped point out where their compartments were, although after dropping off his luggage in his room, Luo set to strolling through the carriage, having not been on the Orient Express for a decent while. However, it was far from being his first time, often needing to travel for his work. He had been wanting to take Yuexia with him for a long time now, the idea born before even she was, for the idea of travelling with his child and imparting all his wisdom upon them, bonding travelling the globe, had always been a neat dream of his.

Inside the steam train was a world of timeless elegance and opulence, the corridors adorned with polished wood paneling and elegant brass fixtures. Underfoot was plush red carpeting, the scent of polished wood and leather lingering in the air, faint but effective. Each compartment was what could only be described as a private sanctuary of comfort, more lavish than many top quality hotels, the doors adorned with polished brass handles and intricate detailing that could only be the long work of an experienced carpenter. Ornate woodwork and rich velvet décor added to the sense of luxury, and the dining car at the end of the train spoke of unparalleled excellence, characterized by white linen tablecloths and sparkling crystal glasses.

Old world glamour was something he was accustomed to, but that sense of appreciation was never lost on him. His coat since discarded in his room, he retires to the dining carriage, settling down into a plush seat as he studies the drinks menu, settling on a simple Turkish tea. He was swift in overlooking the coffee options, always a man more inclined to tea, although he could have coffee if he had to. Black coffee was pushing it. Those notes of bitterness never did strike a sweet tune. He took a crystallized cube of white sugar, setting it into the clear glass he was given, small and shaped like a vase. The reddish brown liquid, almost with a thread of gold running through it, was disturbed gently by an ornate golden spoon as Luo watched the train begin now to set off, a peaceful scene to behold.

As someone entered the dining car he stood up out of politeness, giving a respectful nod of the head to Margaret Ashbourne, the woman who, as he understood, was to be teaching Yuexia. He invited her to sit and she obliged him, sitting in the seat opposite, one leg crossed over the other as she took off her outdoor gloves, setting them down neatly on the table and requesting a coffee. Not Luo's first choice, evidently, but then he and Margaret were two very different people. That was not a bad thing.

"I understand I'll be teaching Yuexia, Mr. Bai?" The governess smiled lightly, her voice rich, elegant, somewhat reminiscent of the working English woman but there was something different there, something Luo could not quite place. She opened her own bag, laying out some neat papers onto the table, stamped with the official wax seal of the company she belonged to.

"That is correct," he nodded, taking the papers as he read over them, careful to not miss any small details, sliding the parchment back towards her once he was reassured of their legitimacy. "Teaching, but I would not be opposed to... watching over, either, Miss Ashbourne," he added, one eyebrow slightly raised as he took a drink from the steaming tea.

The woman made no reply, seeming to know when to utilize silence, only making a small 'ahh' sound, giving room for him to respond as she leaned in forward slightly, taking a sip from her own drink in turn.

"Yuexia and Jia are both responsible. They give me no trouble. I only wonder that Yuexia can be very... curious. She is awfully fond of her mystery books. It is in her best interest that she realizes that mysteries remain in these books, that robberies and murders don't simply happen, and that on the rare chance they do, it it not for us to intervene," Luo continued, speaking slowly, deliberately. He truly did trust his daughter, only worried that she may have inherited his own innate curiosity about the world around him. Her safety came first, and while he didn't believe anything 'mystery-worthy' would happen on this train, they were to encounter unknown lands, and he was very much set in his plan to return with two young women to Hong Kong by the end of this, just as they had arrived.

"I understand. I would be more than happy to oblige," Margaret responded in a formal matter-of-fact tone, though there was a slight smile that played on her features as she finished the last of her coffee, setting the ceramic mug down as she stood up, picking up her bag with a brief nod. "A pleasure meeting you, Mr. Bai."

"Likewise, Miss Ashbourne," came the steady response as he returned to looking out of the window, the train steadily moving through Paris, the plush floors vibrating imperceptibly with the movement of the train.

He could not quite explain it, but something about this journey was strange. Something amiss. Perhaps he was not well-adjusted to leisurely travel, too accustomed to setting out on business ventures, even carrying his prized papers close to his person. He would enjoy himself, and he would ensure that Yuexia and Jia enjoyed themselves even more - this was a train after all. There was only so much that could occur on a train, in a single carriage, and Luo was himself a master at avoiding all kinds of disturbances, to keep the peace.

Luo closed his eyes, resting his head against the glass pane as his thoughts gradually became one with the piano that was being played in the dining cart, alongside other classical instruments. The soft notes brought him back to the days of his childhood, and the low engine of the train hummed in harmony with the music, creating a soothing background symphony. Its melody intertwined with his memories, blurring the lines between past and present, until he could almost feel the warmth of his mother's embrace, the firm hand of his father patting his head, the laughter of his sister which echoed through the compartments.

𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒.
an agatha christie inspired applyfic.

A/N - finally updated, we don't talk about how it's been two months whoops... but hey, now we can all simp over Luo in peace. I also haven't had the time to proofread the final sections of the chapter. Whoops pt.2. Hopefully this was an enjoyable read at the very least 🫡