The phone had been vibrating against the hospital's chair since dawn, a persistent buzzing that Tao had ignored with indifference. It wasn't until the sun began to dip below the horizon that he finally slid the green icon to answer.
"Finally," Chen Yuren's voice crackled, sharp with agitation. "What the hell is up with you? I've been calling for ten hours."
"I'm at the hospital," Tao said. His voice was flat, devoid of the exhaustion one might expect.
There was a beat of silence. "Are you hurt? What happened?"
"I'm fine. It's not me."
On the other end of the line, Yuren let out a heavy, ragged sigh. The sound of a man who already knew he was about to inherit a disaster. "Then who? Give me the details, Tao. Now."
"Yinlin," Tao replied, his gaze fixed on the glass window of the hospital room. "And her daughter. They're both here."
"Tao..." Yuren deeply sighed, the sound of a headache forming in the other end of the call. "We talked about this. The exposure, the risk—"
"I'll handle it all myself," Tao interrupted. "Everything is under control."
"Under control?" Yuren's voice rose an octave. "You're treading on a landmine. For the last time, Tao... let nothing slip. If a single detail of how they got there leaks, I can't protect you. Do you understand? Nothing."
Tao didn't argue. "Zhengqiang knows what he's doing."
"You think your assistant can erase every trace of your criminal activity?" Yuren said flatly. "You think you're smarter than hungry journalists and backstabbing board members?"
Tao didn't flinch at the mention of criminal. He tapped on the hospital's desk as he looked at the sleeping woman. "Yuren, you're worrying too much. I don't need him to erase everything," Tao said calmly. "I need him to make it boring."
There was a sharp exhale on the line. "You can't make a woman and a child showing up at a private hospital boring," Yuren snapped. "Patterns get noticed. Timelines get pulled. All it takes is one intern with a phone and a sense of justice."
"They didn't come through my channels," Tao said. "No company card. No registered name. No direct transfer. Zhengqiang handled logistics through third parties."
"That only buys you time," Yuren said immediately. "Not immunity."
"I'm not asking for immunity."
Yuren went quiet for half a second, recalibrating. "Then what are you asking for?"
"For you to stop treating this like a weakness."
A bitter laugh crackled through the speaker. "Tao, this is your weakness. It always has been."
Tao didn't deny it. "And that's exactly why I won't lose her again."
"Listen to yourself," Yuren said, more tired now than angry. "You're making decisions like the outcome is already fixed."
"Because it is."
"Tao—"
He cut off the connection before Yuren could finish. Tao didn't care about ethics or morality. He only cared about the perception. Besides, morality could be negotiated, and perception could be managed.
If the world required him to look repentant, he would oblige. If it demanded distance, restraint, generosity—he could perform all of it flawlessly. Performance after all, was the easiest thing to master.
No matter how Yuren disagreed, Tao knew he would always be on his side.
Tao turned back to the bed. He reached out to trace the faint, old scar hidden beneath Yinlin's hairline. The proof of the accident that had stolen his name from her mind a decade ago. His touch was possessive, almost reverent.
He leaned down, his breath ghosting against her ear. "It doesn't matter if you forget everything," he whispered, a dark, quiet promise. "I will make new memories for you. I will fill your head until there's no room left for anyone else. You will remember only me."
Tao was aware he was the villain in all of this, and that was precisely why he would take 'responsibility'.
********************
Two days later, after the final checkup and a careful list of prescriptions, the doctor cleared both of them for discharge.
The hospital's revolving doors hissed open to a crisp, gray morning. Yinlin stepped out, her legs still feeling like water. The wind sliced through her cardigan, and she shivered slightly.
"Let's go," Tao said, drawing Mei carefully against his chest.
He was simply dressed by his standards; a long overcoat, a pair of clean shirt and dark slacks, with sunglasses shielding his eyes. It wasn't about style. It was about erasure. The fewer people who noticed him, the better. A Xu heir leaving a hospital with a woman and a child wasn't a scene he could afford to let exist beyond this corridor.
"Where are you taking us?" Asked Yinlin, her face was still pale.
"Somewhere you don't have to worry about broken heater again." Tao said, reaching for Yinlin's hand and led them toward his car.
She did not resist nor question. With her daughter's head resting on his shoulder as if he was the safest option, she didn't dare to examine the truth that both of their lives were already in his hands.
In the backseat of the sleek SUV, Mei climbed into her lap. The child was no longer burning, but she was quiet, her energy drained.
"Mommy, is uncle taking us back to our home?" Mei whispered, looking out at the passing skyscrapers.
Yinlin's heart squeezed. She looked out the window, her throat felt tight. She had no keys in her pocket. No lease. The landlord had already sent a final text confirming her belongings had been removed from the apartment. She was a refugee in her own city.
"No. We're going somewhere else, Mei," Yinlin said, though the words felt like ash.
Tao was driving as he heard their conversation. He had dismissed Zhengqiang to complete other more urgent tasks. He caught Mei's eye in the rearview mirror, his expression softened into a practiced, gentle warmth—the mask of a man who hadn't just systematically destroyed their lives seventy-two hours ago.
"The new place has a garden and a pool," Tao said, his voice light and friendly. "And warm carpets. I think there might even be some new toys waiting for a girl who was very brave for the doctors."
Mei looked at him with cautious, wide eyes. Children have an instinct for shadows, but the promise of toys and garden and pool was a powerful lure. "Really? A garden and a pool?"
"A big one," Tao promised.
Yinlin looked at the back of his head, her gaze cold and hollow. She saw the kind of trap he was setting this time—a gilded cage built on the ruins of her independence. All while playing the hero in a story where he was the only villain.
*******************
The elevator doors slid back with a hushed whisper. Yinlin stepped out tentatively, her hands clasped tight, as they entered the expansive silence of Tao's apartment.
The penthouse smelled of a familiar scent of cedarwood and cold, quiet wealth. It wasn't ostentatious, but it was profoundly expensive—neutral color furnishings, marble counters, and towering bookshelves. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling glass, the city skyline stretched out like a glittering snare, a frozen ocean of light far below.
Mei stirred in Tao's arms, rubbing her eyes as she took in the soaring ceilings. "Wow, uncle, you live here? It's sho... big."
Tao set Mei down gently, his movements careful. He stood tall in the center of the space, his long shadow stretching across the polished marble floors like a claim.
"I do," he said, his voice echoing slightly in the vastness. "And you both can stay here as long as you need. This is the main living area. The dining room is just through those arches, and the kitchen is right through here."
He gestured with a slow, deliberate sweep of his hand toward the sprawling layout of the penthouse. "My quarters are in the left wing; yours are on the right. You'll have total privacy there. It gets sunlight in the morning."
The structure of the home was as calculated as the man himself. It was designed for distance even under the same roof. The "sunlight" he promised felt less like a comfort and more like a spotlight, a way to ensure there were no dark corners left for her to hide in.
"If you take the elevator," He walked them through the space, his voice low and rhythmic as he showed Mei the outdoor pool and the private garden accessible a few levels down. "You can have access to the pool and walk around the garden anytime."
"Uncle, are you rich?" the four-year-old asked, her eyes wide with enthusiasm. "How do you own all of this?"
"I just work very hard," Tao replied, his expression unreadable.
Yinlin remained a statue in the center of the room, her eyes sunken and her spirit wary. Her gaze darted from the luxury to the man who provided it, her mind a storm of unasked questions. "So, this is it?" she asked, her voice brittle. "You're going to cage us here?"
Tao turned to look at her, his dark eyes lingering on the exhaustion etched into her face. "Yinlin, you're tired. Go and rest. We'll talk later about what you want to do." He gestured toward the hallway. "Your suitcase is already in the room. I'll have the housekeeper prepare a meal. Mei, do you like noodles?"
At the child's enthusiastic nod, a housekeeper appeared as if summoned from the shadows, and Tao gave his quiet instructions.
Yinlin carried Mei into the guest suite, a room that felt too large and far too comfortable. A massive teddy bear sat perched on the sprawling bed, and Mei immediately lunged for it, a small squeal of joy breaking the tension. Yinlin didn't sit. She stood by the window, watching the skyline blur behind a veil of unshed tears.
"Mommy, is this our new home? It's so big!" Mei asked, burying her face in the bear's soft fur.
"Just for a while, love." Answered Yinlin, with emptiness. "At least until we can figure it out." She brushed her daughter's hair gently. "In the meantime, you should behave and not trouble our host. Got it?"
"Got it!" The girl grinned.
Mei enjoyed the comfort of her new home and new toys while Yinlin tried suppressed the discomfort beneath her chest. She was sure he had other intentions of bringing them here.