CHAPTER 25
The air is dense, suffocating. I stand still, fists clenched inside the pockets of my jacket. Through the café windows, I see her.
Zhi Ling, facing another man.
The unease eats away at me, a cold burn I haven't felt before. Her back is straight, her posture tense, but what truly unnerves me is what she's doing with the coffee spoon.
Circles.
One after another, pointless, aimless. An unconscious reflection of her nervousness. My eyes shift to the man sitting across from her. A stranger. Younger than me, probably her age. Tall, well-dressed, with symmetrical features, but nothing remarkable. I don't care who he is. I care about why he's there.
She speaks and he listens. That's enough to make me want to barge in right now. I breathe deeply. I must stay in control. It's always been my shield, my sharpest weapon. But now, here, watching Ling with someone else, it begins to crack.
I walk through the door.
The sound of my entrance echoes inside the café. A murmur ripples through the room. People who were chatting energetically lower their voices. Some go completely silent. I'm used to it. Used to my presence being noticed. People watch me with reverence or fear. But today, that attention means nothing.
I walk toward her table with measured steps. I don't get too close. Not yet. I stop at a strategic distance: close enough to listen, without interrupting.
"I just need that," says Ling.
Her tone is professional, but tense.
"It's a simple task, Miss Zhi," replies the man, in a neutral voice. "But if you truly want me to play the role of your fiancé, I need to get to know you. That way I can respond naturally to any questions your grandmother might ask."
Ling places the spoon on the saucer. Finally.
"This is harder than I expected," she murmurs, more to herself than to him.
The stranger gives her a rehearsed smile.
"Don't worry. I've done this kind of role many times and I assure you, with just the right amount of information, everything will go smoothly."
My lungs fill with air. The tightness in my chest eases. She's not looking for a boyfriend. She's hiring one.
The realization hits me so hard that even a flicker of amusement slips through the tension.
I'll take control of the situation in a moment.
My steps sound as I approach. Slow, but firm, as if each one were calculated not to break the fragile balance of the moment. The man lifts his gaze and, upon seeing me, his mouth parts slightly. His body tense. Ling, however, still hasn't noticed. I take advantage of that one second of lead. I place myself behind her, rest my hands on her shoulders and, with the calmest and most affectionate voice I can project, I drop the bomb:
"Wife."
Ling freezes. Her breath halts.
"Looking for actors again?"
The stranger shifts his eyes between Ling and me, clearly confused.
"I don't understand," he says, cautiously.
I ignore him. I lean in a little closer to Ling, just enough to feel her back tenses beneath my hands.
"Excuse me, you're an actor, aren't you?" I ask, without taking my eyes off his face.
He blinks, trying to process the situation.
"Yes."
"In that case, you're number one hundred and fifty-three this month."
Ling remains motionless. She can't believe what she's hearing. The man frowns.
"I don't get it."
I sigh dramatically and remove one hand from her shoulder to reach into my jacket's inner pocket. With total calm, I go on:
"My wife has a mental illness. When she doesn't take her medication, she experiences hallucinations."
The actor goes rigid. The people in the café, who until now had pretended not to be listening, hold their breath.
"This month, she's convinced she has a grandmother who needs to meet her fiancé," I explain with my best smile. "And as you can see, she's married."
I lift her left hand and place it on the table, as if an invisible ring confirmed my words. Her mouth parts, but she can't utter a word.
"And we have a beautiful child. His name is Bo. He has lovely green eyes and is gentle, affectionate."
The actor looks at me, completely disoriented.
"I… I…" he stammers.
I take full advantage of his confusion:
"I understand what you're thinking," I say politely, "and I apologize."
I pull out my wallet, slide out a debit card, and gently set it on the table.
"Here's compensation for the misunderstanding. The code is two-four-seven-nine."
Complete silence.
"Will a hundred thousand yen be enough, or do you need more?"
The man's eyes widen at the amount. Money is always the most efficient way to solve any problem. He looks at the card. His moral dilemma doesn't last more than three seconds.
"That's more than enough, thank you," he finally replies, rising discreetly.
He takes the card, gives us one last look and walks away without another word.
Case closed.
I move away from Ling and sit in the chair that imposter just vacated. Her face is pale. Her lips tremble. But it's not just tension. Not just fury.
It's something else.
Disbelief. Astonishment.
I lean back in the chair, completely at ease. I wait. I know what's coming. I know she's going to yell at me, and I'll take it. Because deep down, I know this is the price of loving her this much.
*****
The silence between us is suffocating. I feel the temperature in the café rising with every passing second. My heart is pounding out of control. I don't know if it's from humiliation, rage, or the sheer frustration of watching Han Qiang destroy everything in a matter of minutes.
He's still sitting across from me, calm, unbothered. With that damn smug smile on his lips, as if his interference were the best thing that's ever happened to me. And it's not.
I clench my jaw. My fingers curl into fists on the table. I know people are watching us, that murmurs surround us, but I don't care. Nothing matters more right now than wiping that unbearable smugness off his face.
"Who the hell do you think you are?" I snap, every word laced with the venom burning in my chest.
His smile doesn't fade. That bastard keeps smiling.
"Your husband, apparently," he replies in a low, mocking, condescending tone.
Something inside me breaks. My patience is gone.
"Enough!" I shout. The words burst out uncontrollably. The whole café falls silent. I don't care. I don't care about the scene, the stares, the judgment. I lean forward, eyes blazing with fury, and point a finger at him. "You have no right to do this. None!"
Han Qiang doesn't flinch. He doesn't even blink.
"I don't see you rejecting me, Ling."
My blood boils.
"Reject you?" I let out a bitter, incredulous laugh, shaken by fury. "I hate you! You're nothing but a self-centered, manipulative, controlling man. You think everything belongs to you, that you can barge into people's lives without consequence. But you have no power over me, Han Qiang. None!"
He folds his hands on the table, his gaze locked on mine.
"Do you really believe that?"
I open my mouth, but no answer comes. Because the truth is… he does. Since he arrived, he's crept into every corner of my life: my routine, my thoughts, my decisions. And he knows it. Damn it, he knows it. I'm burning with rage. I won't let him win.
"You have no idea what this means to me!" I scream, my heart pounding in my throat. "I didn't do it for me. I did it for her."
For the first time, his expression changes. His eyes darken; his jaw tightens. He knows who I mean. I take a breath, feeling my chest tighten.
"She's dying, Qiang," my voice cracks. "And I don't want her to go thinking I failed, that I never found someone who could make me happy."
The tears threaten, but I won't give in. I grip the table, struggling to breathe normally.
"She needs to believe she succeeded. That she didn't leave me alone. That someone will be by my side when she no longer can."
Silence.
Qiang watches me closely. His eyes are fixed on mine, and there's no mockery in them. There's something deeper. When he speaks, his voice is lower, graver.
"Then use me."
The table disappears. The background noise too. It's just him and me. I stare at him, frozen, as the weight of his words hit me with breath-stealing intensity.
"What… did you say?"
He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. His tone is calm and steady.
"Use me, Ling."
My heart stops.
"You don't need to hire anyone," he adds, with that smooth, enveloping voice of his. "I'm here. For you."
The pressure in my chest becomes unbearable.
"This isn't a game…" I whisper. My world is shaking.
Qiang tilts his head, as if studying me carefully.
"I'm not playing."
I part my lips, desperately trying to say something, anything. But there are no words. No way out. And he knows it. He doesn't give me time.
He stands up with his usual elegance and offers me his hand.
"Let's go together."
I look up. The determination in his eyes is absolute. This isn't a proposal. It's a decision already made. I remain still. My heart races uncontrollably. I know that if I take his hand, there will be no turning back.
But the alternative is staying here. Pretending. Calling another actor. Continuing this farce while he watches from afar, knowing he's already won.
My breath trembles. I lift my hand, shaking, and place it in his. His fingers close firmly around mine. A shiver runs through me. He pulls gently and makes me stand. Then he leans toward my ear. His voice is barely a whisper.
"Let's go, wife. We have a love to declare."
And I… I no longer have the strength to argue.
CHAPTER 26
Our footsteps muffled, interrupted only by the constant movement of nurses crossing the hallway without paying us any attention. Ling walks beside me, her breathing in sync with mine, and her fingers, laced with mine, feel more fragile than ever. Without saying a word, she presses the elevator button that will take us to her grandmother's room.
When the doors open, her hand trembles slightly. I don't say anything. I just squeeze it gently, so she knows I'm here. The ride is brief, but her face shifts through emotions far too intense for a simple ascent.
As soon as we step out, she lets go of my hand without warning and runs toward her parents, who are waiting in the hallway. Her mother hugs her instantly. Her father watches in silence, with that painful restraint only men of his generation manage to hold with dignity. I remain at a respectable distance, giving them their moment.
Ling gestures for me to come closer, and as I do, she takes my hand again and leads me inside. Her grandmother is awake, lying back on the white sheets. Paler than last night. Smaller. And yet, there's a firmness in her gaze that commands respect.
"Grandmother," Ling says, her voice trembling, "this is Han Qiang. My boyfriend."
The word hits me like a blessing. She says it calmly, without hesitation. I step closer, stopping at the edge of the bed.
"Grandmother," I greet, lowering my head slowly, "thank you for insisting on meeting me."
Her eyes scan me carefully, as if trying to see beyond the surface. I'm not easily impressed. Yet, for the first time in a long while, I want someone to like me. I want her to see me as more than a businessman.
"I want to speak with him alone," she says suddenly.
Ling looks at me. Her eyes search mine, as if needing a signal to obey. I stroke her hand gently, offering reassurance.
"I'll be fine," I whisper.
She nods, though not fully convinced. She kisses her grandmother's forehead and leaves the room with her parents.
I remain alone.
No. Not alone. Facing a woman who doesn't know me yet holds my fate in her hands.
"Tell me the truth," she murmurs. "Who are you, really?"
I take a deep breath. I glance toward the window, at the light filtering through the curtains. And then, with no defenses, no masks, I give her my story.
"I'm Han Qiang," I begin, my voice low but steady. "Forty years old. I've never been married. I've had no lovers, no scandals."
I lean forward slightly, as if stating my principles.
"I'm the founder and CEO of Tian Enterprises, one of the leading multinationals headquartered in Guangzhou. We operate in more than a dozen sectors, with offices in Beijing, Shanghai, Shenzhen, and Chengdu."
The old woman doesn't flinch. She watches me with a serenity that could intimidate anyone. Not me.
"I own five personal residences in various cities: in the Chaoyang District of Beijing, near Ritan Park; in Lujiazui, Shanghai, overlooking the Huangpu River; in Yuexiu, Guangzhou, inside the IFC building; by the West Lake in Hangzhou; and in Jinjiang, Chengdu, near the Funan River."
I pause briefly. She still doesn't blink.
"I also own eight residential buildings. Four in downtown Guangzhou, two in Pudong, one in the high district of Chongqing, and another in Nanshan, Shenzhen. All of them are occupied and managed by my companies."
Every word carries weight. But I don't stop.
"And even with all that, the most valuable thing I have is the love I feel for your granddaughter."
It's the first time I've said it so clearly. So plainly. She watches me with the same calmness, as if she already knew.
"I met her almost a year ago," I go on. "I had a meeting with her former boss regarding a potential investment. There was a cyberattack, a critical situation, and she resolved it with a skill that left me speechless. I thought I'd never see her again. But fate had other plans."
I remember the exact moment. The turning point.
"That same night, I saw her again. She was leaving a hotel. She was furious, disoriented, so much so that she didn't notice a car speeding toward her. I pulled her out of its path. And when I held her in my arms, I knew I wouldn't let her slip away."
My voice catches slightly. Not from weakness. From the weight of what's been unsaid.
"For months, I did nothing. I gave her space. Time to heal. But I never stopped watching her. I waited. Until I couldn't wait any longer. I needed her close."
"I suppose that's when you started planning to bring her to Guangzhou," she comments, without reproach.
"Exactly," I admit with a faint smile. "I arranged her entry into Tian Enterprises with precision. It wasn't just strategy. It was need. I wanted her close. Not out of whim…"
"Do you love her?"
I meet her gaze without hesitation.
"Yes."
"And do you intend to take care of her?"
"Until my last breath."
The old woman studies me in silence. Then, her expression softens. There's a different light in her eyes. Tired, but at peace.
"Thank you for telling me the truth," she whispers with a tenderness I wasn't expecting. "Now I know Ling will have a good future. And she'll be loved."
"I would give my life for her," I reply without hesitation.
"Mr. Han, could you tell my family to come in? I want to see them one last time."
I nod and step into the hallway. Ling, her mother, and her father are seated in silence. When they see me, she rises to her feet.
"She wants to say goodbye to you," I say calmly.
Her parents go in first. Ling searches my face, as if afraid of what might have happened inside.
"Is everything all right?"
"Yes," I reply. "Everything is all right."
She enters. I remain outside. That moment doesn't belong to me.
I don't cross that door, but I stay close. Standing still. I am simply here. As if I've always been here. Time slips by slowly, wrapped in a stillness that smells of farewell. No one speaks. No one cries aloud. But everything has been said.
Two hours later, the door opens.
Her grandmother's heart has stopped beating.
And I'm still here, with them. Not as a guest. Not as a stranger. But as part of something I've unexpectedly begun to build.
CHAPTER 27
Two months have passed since Grandma left... Life goes on. The days go by. The city doesn't stop; people don't stop. No one does. And I... I can't either.
Yet today, as I sit in my office, the digital clock casting one number after another across the glass surface, I realize that something has changed: I am no longer the same.
My reflection in the dark screen of the monitor shows a face I struggle to recognize. Not because of the features, or the neatly tied hair, or the white blouse I always choose on Mondays, but because of the way I look at him when he enters. The way I speak when he's near. The way my heart races just hearing his voice.
Mr. Han.
No... Qiang.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I force myself to lower my gaze to the system reports displayed in front of me. Routine has always been my shield, though these days, not even that protects me entirely.
He has been with me since the darkest moment. Since that phone call shattered my soul. Since the instant I collapsed in the middle of a hallway and ended up wrapped in his arms. He hasn't left my side since. Not really.
And suddenly, her last words come back to my grandmother's, just before she closed her eyes for the last time:
"Mr. Han is everything you need to be happy."
Back then, I didn't know what to say. I smiled, with my heart in pieces, pretending that Qiang had played his part well. But those words didn't fade with time. Since that day, they've been too present.
I don't know if it was because seeing her happy meant the world, or because of the support he gave me during the funeral, or the way he cared for my parents, making sure they lacked nothing… but something inside me changed.
Because now, when he walks into a room, I no longer see just the CEO. I see the man who filled my apartment with white flowers the day after the burial. The one who stopped sleeping so I wouldn't spend a single night alone. The one who stops time by simply brushing my hand.
And then, in the middle of that uncomfortable reflection, a question hits me with the force of a sudden storm:
Am I in love with Han Qiang?
I shake my head. That can't be. It shouldn't be.
To rip that idea from my chest, I refocus on the security panels blinking on the main screen. My control zone. My territory.
And then it happens...
A sharp beep cuts through the office. One. Two. Three. The monitors turn red. The LED lights shift from green to orange, then to red. The system sends an unmistakable signal: we are under attack.
I press the red phone button, and everyone hears me from the control room.
"Emergency! Attack!" I shout, my voice echoing through the already open speaker. "Stay alert for my orders!"
My fingers move faster than my mind.
"No, no, no..." I murmur, opening the firewall console. Access logs scroll across the screen like a bursting river.
"This isn't a regular intrusion. It's a coordinated offensive," I yell, so my colleagues can act on the intel I'm feeding them.
I type nonstop. My eyes scan every line of code, every remote connection, every IP address that flickers like a digital serpent.
"They're not after data," I go on aloud. "They're going straight for the financial systems. They want to break us."
I take a deep breath and look at the server map. There it is.
"The breach is in the secondary validation node. They're replicating logins through multiple proxies. It looks like a global attack, but it's a mask."
I open the terminal in admin mode. I initiate the emergency lockdown protocol.
"Protocol Zhi-L03, red level. Partial shutdown of the real-time transaction system. Reroute to secure environment number 7."
The confirmation beep sounds inside the office.
"We won't let them in," I proclaim like a warrior. "Not while I'm here."
And just as I'm about to reconfigure the encryption algorithm, I hear a held breath. I look up.
Han Qiang.
He doesn't say a word. He doesn't need to. He just watches me.
His black suit is immaculate, as always. The tie, adjusted with surgical precision. But his eyes… his eyes don't blink. They don't move. They pierce through me as if every impulse of his gaze went straight through my skin.
And I feel it. I feel his presence like an electric current. He doesn't speak, doesn't approach, but fills the office with a force that consumes everything.
I don't stop. I can't. If I lower my guard—if I hesitate for even one second—we lose.
My voice becomes a tense murmur, as if I need to speak out loud to stay focused.
"They're rewriting the validation protocol. Trying to collapse the system from within. I need to isolate the compromised cluster without affecting the rest of the network."
A sharper beep warns me of a direct intrusion into the financial server's core.
"No… not there," I type frantically. "If I can freeze that access in the next thirty seconds, I'll be able to force a restoration from the attached data. But it has to be now."
Qiang steps forward. His shadow falls across my desk.
He still doesn't move.
Still doesn't speak.
And I… I keep explaining. I don't know if I'm doing it for him or for me.
"This is going to hurt," I say without looking at him. "I'll have to isolate the whole system for forty-five seconds. That means we'll lose all operations in progress. Millions. Maybe hundreds."
His eyes tense. No other reaction.
"If I don't, we lose everything."
Silence. Only the server beeping. Only my hands and my voice. And his gaze, fixed on me, as if holding me in place.
"I'm doing it."
I hit Enter.
"Close remote access. From this moment, I have exclusive control."
My fingers fly across the keyboard. The sound is a metallic pounding echoing through the empty room. In my earpiece I hear the voices from the data center team, the connection attempts, the panic disguised as professionalism. No one can access it now. Only me.
Qiang hasn't moved. He just watches.
"They've activated an encrypted tunnel. The bursts are irregular. They're going for saturation, not destruction," I explain while analyzing the data streams. "The goal is destabilization, to collapse the core. They're not trying to steal. They want to sink us."
My throat burns. My mouth is dry. Sweat runs down my back, but my hands don't tremble. Not now.
"Can you handle this?"
His voice—low, deep—shakes me to the core.
"I don't know," I reply without stopping typing. "But if I can't, no one can."
Silence again. He doesn't approach. Doesn't interfere. Doesn't impose.
He just stays. Holding me up with his silence. The way he always does.
A new alert. This time, it's not coming from outside.
"An internal breach...?" I frown. "No. It's not internal. It's a simulated route. Fake. A tunnel disguised as internal traffic."
My eyes scan the lines of code like a scanner.
"It's a worm. Quite clever, but clumsy. It replicates signature processes to access the root server. A poor imitation. It won't make it."
I open a new window and type quickly. I know what I have to do.
"I'm going to shut down the system's heart for twelve seconds. Security's going to hate me for it, but if I don't, we'll lose everything."
"Do it," Qiang says. His tone leaves no room for argument.
I enter the master password. One no one else knows. The cursor blinks. I press Enter.
The entire network goes dark. Twelve seconds. Twelve heartbeats. Twelve lines between chaos and control.
When the system comes back… the worm is gone. The flow stabilizes. The alerts go silent.
I release the keyboard and slowly lean back. My arms drop heavily at my sides. My body, suddenly, seems to remember it hasn't breathed in too long.
"Guys, we did it," I shout, happy, though my voice barely comes out. Only the emptiness left after battle remains.
From my office, I hear an eruption of voices: cheers, clapping, whistles. I close my eyes. One second. Just one.
"Good work, everyone," Qiang says, noticing I can't speak. "You'll all get a bonus at the end of the month." And he hangs up.
Then, a hand rests on my shoulder. Firm. Steady. I don't startle. I'm far too used to his touch.
"I don't know what I'd do without you," he murmurs, so close, so soft, that only I can hear it.
I turn slowly. His eyes are fixed on mine. Dark. Vast. They don't show surprise or pride. Only that intensity that always disarms me. I want to say something. Anything. But words don't come.
Because what I just did… yes, it was for the company, to protect everything around us.
But deep down, it was for him.
The air grows thick again. The systems are back to normal, but I'm not.
My body trembles. Not from fear, but from exhaustion. The adrenaline begins to fade, leaving me hollow, as if the ground beneath my feet were starting to shake. I try to keep my back straight, to still appear professional, but my muscles are taut, my eyes burn, my throat tightens.
"Ling?"
His voice cuts through me like a thread of calm.
I blink. I look at him. He's there, so close, without invading. His eyes don't press me. They read me. And I know he's understood everything. Not just what happened to the systems at Tian Enterprises, but also what happened inside me.
"I'm… fine," I reply. It's a lie.
Qiang tilts his head slightly. His jawline tightens. He doesn't reply. He simply takes a step toward me and extends his arm. For a second, I hesitate. I wish I had the strength to reject the gesture, to keep up appearances. But I don't.
My legs begin to give out. He notices before it happens. He catches me gently by the forearm and leads me out of the office without a word. Mr. Han walks me to his office, holding my hand. But right now… he's not my boss. He's Qiang.
He settles me on the leather couch beside the large glass wall. From there, I can see the cloudy sky over Canton. Rain threatens to fall at any moment. Inside me, it already has.
He leans down, watches me silently, then disappears for a moment. He returns with a cup of water in his hands. He sets it on the low table in front of me. Looks at me as if waiting for me to shatter. As if he already knows I'm about to.
And then, it happens.
"I couldn't let it happen," I whisper. I'm not even sure if he hears me. "I wasn't going to let them destroy everything you've built."
His brows lift slightly.
"You're my great savior," he says, with a smile that undoes me.
I swallow hard. I want to hold it in, but the tears form without permission. The built-up tension doesn't vanish instantly. It's not enough to stop an attack. The real collapse comes afterward, when there's nothing left to do. When body and soul demand their toll.
Qiang sees it. He knows I'm on the edge because the adrenaline is leaving me. So, he sits beside me, opens his arms, and waits for me to settle into them. I do, as if we weren't in his office, but in my apartment, with Bo jumping around trying to wedge himself between us.
This embrace is familiar, warm, and comforting.
We say nothing more. We remain silent, wrapped in each other's arms.
I don't understand why I feel so safe. It's as if nothing bad could ever happen, as long as he's by my side.
CHAPTER 28
I don't understand why he insisted so much.
From the moment he proposed it, I knew it wasn't just a simple dinner. I sensed it in his tone; in the way he looked at me from the threshold of his office. As if he couldn't ask me with ordinary words. As if, just this once, he needed something more from me.
And here I am, standing in front of the mirror, trying not to let this night swallow me whole.
The ivory qipao drapes gently over me, outlining my figure without exaggeration. The satin fabric falls like warm water over my body, without pretension. Elegant. Simple. Harmless. The way I try to seem. I've tied my hair in a low bun, leaving a few loose strands at the sides. I've used barely any makeup, just enough so no one will notice the dark circles that have been clinging to me for a week.
The nightmares haven't let up. Not since the attack.
Over and over, I dream that I can't stop it. That everything collapses. That Qiang loses everything. And I'm there, useless, while he looks at me with disappointment. I wake up drenched in sweat. Sometimes even crying.
I walk toward the bedroom door, step by step, as if the floor could absorb my anxiety. Bo waits for me in the hallway, sitting upright with his tail curled beside him. He watches me closely, with that feline stillness that feels like silent judgment.
"Do I look pretty?" I ask, turning slowly in place. My voice comes out soft, as if afraid of the answer.
Bo doesn't reply, of course. He just blinks slowly, as if his approval were tacit. And maybe it is.
I walk to the entrance in my house slippers. The little pink kittens on each foot make me feel comfortable, even if I still have to put on my heels. I'm just slipping them on when there's a knock at the door.
I freeze, my heart pounding in my chest. I take a deep breath. I open the door. And there's Qiang.
He's not wearing a suit. That throws me off.
The white shirt he's chosen is open at the collar, no tie, as if he wanted to let go of perfection just for tonight. His dark trousers fit him perfectly, and his leather shoes gleam without a single scuff out of place. He could show up at any gala dressed like this and still look right at home.
But what takes my breath away isn't how he looks. It's the way he looks at me.
He pauses. A silent jolt. As if, for a second, he doesn't know what to say. As if I… look beautiful to him.
He doesn't say it. He doesn't need to.
I feel it in the way his eyes travel over my figure and then return to mine with a neutral expression, too carefully composed.
I don't smile. I don't move. I just feel that absurd spark running down my spine. I don't know if it's pride or vertigo.
"Shall we, Miss Zhi?" he says, offering me his arm with a touch of mock formality. "My family is waiting."
My family.
The phrase echoes in my mind, amplified by everything it implies.
"All right," I reply, with a voice I still don't know how manage not to shake.
I close the door gently. I take his arm without meeting his gaze. I just let him guide me.
And together, we walk toward the elevator. The silence between us is comfortable, almost intimate. There's no need for words. There's something about this night, about this invitation I don't fully understand, that keeps me on alert.
Even so, as we descend in the elevator, his arm brushing mine, his warmth so close… a part of me wishes this would never end.
*****
I don't like the way she looks at the mansion.
There's no judgment in her expression. No fascination either. Just that restrained silence that appears when something is so overwhelming it becomes impossible to digest. And then I know. She knows. She believes she doesn't belong here.
The way her eyes linger a few seconds too long on the marble columns, the oak door, the endless steps... it reminds me that this place isn't a home. It's a statement of power. A legacy built to impress. To intimidate. To remind anyone who enters that they are on Han territory.
Her family's house has two floors, a lovely garden, windows with white curtains and that feeling of home no mansion can ever buy. But this... this house where I was born has none of that. It's a fortress. A symbol. An inheritance.
I don't want her to feel inferior for even a second, and I won't allow this house to make her doubt her place here.
The moment the car stops, I get out without waiting for the driver. I walk to her door with firm steps. No one helps her down. Only me.
She reaches out her hand gently. She doesn't hesitate, doesn't pretend. There's a quiet dignity in her gesture that makes me feel this moment is worth more than any signature, any contract, any empire.
When she stands, her fingers slip from mine with softness. I don't like it. Not at all. But I understand why she does it. She's holding back. She's protecting herself.
So, I offer her my arm. And that... that she accepts gladly.
I'm not sure if she does it for the sake of protocol or because she needs something stronger than herself to lean on to face what lies ahead. Either way, contact comforts me. It reminds me she's here. That she's chosen me.
We cross the main garden under warm lights casting soft shadows over the bougainvillea climbing the columns. The staff lines both sides of the path, in impeccable uniforms, hands folded behind their backs. When they see us, they bow their heads.
Ling suppresses a flicker of surprise. I glance at her from the corner of my eye. This kind of welcome isn't common. It isn't for just anyone. It's for her. For my princess.
As we reach the entrance, the double doors open before we even ring. My mother appears.
She looks... stunning. Midnight blue dress, subtly tailored. Heels she had condemned years ago. Hair elegantly pinned up, sapphire earrings she saves for the grandest occasions. She smiles as if time had turned back twenty years.
"Hello, welcome!" she says, extending her hand to Ling as if greeting an empress.
My chest fills with something I can't quite name—pride, gratitude, pure emotion. Yes. That smile is for her.
I walk a few steps behind them. I watch them. I study them. My mother chats animatedly with Ling, standing taller than ever. Not a single complaint about her back, not the slightest grimace of discomfort. She glides in those heels as if age had never touched her.
I want to laugh. Not mockingly. Joyfully. Because I'm happy.
Then I hear a faint throat-clear behind me. I turn. There he is. My father. Hands behind his back, eyes fixed on us. He says nothing. Just wait.
"Come," he says at last. "Let's talk while your mother enjoys Miss Zhi's company."
I nod. I follow him down the hallway. We enter his study. I don't close the door.
He sits behind the desk and, without preamble, slides a set of documents toward me.
I step closer. I begin to read. I recognize the names. Dates. Places. Information about the Zhi family.
I swallow hard. Not because it unsettles me, but because I didn't expect to feel this. This strange mixture of tenderness and pride flooding me from the inside.
"She comes from a humble family," my father says, without looking up.
"Simple," I reply immediately. "Hardworking. Honorable..."
He raises an eyebrow and looks at me as if I've turned into a butterfly.
"She's twenty-five. You're forty."
I know what he's implying, what he's searching for, but I remain unmoved.
"I'm not her father. That much I'm sure of," I answer. My father should remember I face men far more dangerous than him every day.
"Of course, she's not your daughter..." he mutters with irony. Then he pauses, long enough to search for flaws instead of virtues.
"Besides being intelligent, what can you tell me about her?"
I look at him calmly. This answer is easy.
"Loyal," I begin. "Strong, disciplined, discreet, compassionate, sweet, brave, generous, sensible, wonderful, brilliant, joyful, tireless..." I lean slightly forward. "All of that and more is what makes me love her so much I lose my mind when she's not near me."
My father watches me silently for several seconds. For the first time in a long while, he has no reply ready.
"I never thought I'd hear you say that word," he says finally, in a low voice, almost respectful.
"The women you insisted on introducing me to weren't worth it," I answer bluntly. "They weren't meant for me."
"They were good alliances," he retorts with a hint of authority.
"I don't need a wife to increase my power. I already have it."
He studies me. I know because he's stopped blinking.
"Perhaps you're grateful to her because she saved your empire."
"My feelings for her have nothing to do with admiration. And let me remind you it was Ling who saved our empire," I correct, intentionally. I don't want him to forget that his assets are in my hands.
He leans back in his chair. He seems to weigh something.
"When are you going to ask her to marry you? When will you announce the engagement?" he asks at last. "That would solve a lot of problems."
I don't answer right away. And in that pause, he finds his victory. A smile crosses his face. It's not mockery. It's... fascination.
"Well, well. So even you can be left without a strategy," he says with a dry chuckle. "Interesting."
And at that moment, I understand. He's laughing because, for the first time, I can't predict my next move.
*****
The table is set with near ceremonial precision. Antique china, cut crystal glasses, silverware reserved only for occasions that truly matter. Everything arranged as if expecting the visit of a dignitary. Nothing about it is casual. Every element is there to send a message: this dinner matters. She matters.
We sit down. Zhi Ling to my right. My mother across from her. My father, as always, presiding at the head of the table.
I serve Ling rice without thinking. Then I offer her the fish, the steamed vegetables, and a bit of tofu with mushrooms. I do it the way I always do, when it's just the two of us. With that natural ease that's become routine. I don't realize what I'm doing… until my mother points it out.
"You never serve rice to anyone, son," she says with a soft smile, a glint of teasing in her eyes.
"I do every time I'm with her," I reply without lifting my eyes from Ling's plate. "It's just that no one's around to see it."
Ling lowers her gaze. She murmurs a quiet "thank you" barely audible, but its echo lingers in all of us. She holds her chopsticks with care, as if the simple act of eating might shatter the harmony of this moment.
My mother starts the conversation. She asks about her dress, says the ivory brings out her natural elegance, that it reminds her of one she wore to her first ball many years ago.
Ling responds with that perfect blend of courtesy and sweetness that defines her. She's not pretending. She doesn't know how. And that… wins them over.
"I've never seen Qiang so attentive," my mother adds, turning subtly to my father.
"I'm only attentive to Zhi Ling because she's the only one who deserves it," I respond calmly.
Silence. My father looks up. Says nothing. Just watches. I decide to go one step further.
"Mother, did Father tell you Ling was the one who stopped Tian Enterprises from collapsing last week?" I ask. "Thanks to her, we're still sitting here, and the world hasn't fallen apart."
My mother blinks, visibly surprised. Then she turns to Ling, as if seeing her for the first time.
"You did that?"
Ling hesitates for a second. Then she gently places her chopsticks down on her plate. Her posture remains upright. Her voice is firm. Clear.
"I was just doing my job," she replies humbly. "I couldn't let a company with so many employees fall apart. Thousands of people rely on it to feed their families. It wouldn't have been fair for all that effort to go to waste because of an attack."
She pauses briefly. Her eyes search for mine. They find them.
"And… I also couldn't let someone destroy what Mr. Han worked so hard to build."
The sentence lands in the room with a weight no one dares to disturb. It's not a confession. It doesn't sound like one. And yet… it is.
My mother looks at her as if she's just discovered a diamond in the rough. There's admiration in her eyes. Pride. Warmth.
My father remains silent, leaning back in his chair, analyzing every word as if they were puzzle pieces that don't quite fit with his preconceptions.
And I… I can't stop looking at her. Not because I need confirmation. But because I have no doubt left. She did it for me. And that… disarms me completely.
The silence lingers for just a few seconds more. Just as I open my mouth to say something, my phone vibrates on the table. I glance down and see a message from the head of security. I open it immediately. I know he's found a lead on the attack.
"We found the weasel. He's in his office. We'll hold him there until the police arrive."
My chest tightens. The warmth of the dinner vanishes. The present wavers. Ling turns her head slightly, as if she already knows what I'm about to say.
"We have to go," I murmur, just loud enough for her to hear.
My mother straightens, alarmed.
"Has something happened?"
"They're waiting for us at the company. It's urgent," I say, rising to my feet.
My father's brow furrows. His tone hardens again.
"Trouble?"
"Just a weasel."
My father understands. I don't need to say more. I take Ling's hand without hesitation. She accepts it without question, as if no explanation is needed. We rise. I bow slightly to my parents.
"Thank you for the dinner."
My mother nods, though concern has already stolen her smile. My father isn't moving. But for the first time, his eyes aren't judging me. They respect me.
We walk out together. She is by my side. Not behind. Not as a guest. As part of who I am. Of whom we'll become.
And as we cross the grand hallway in silence, her hand in mine, I can think of only one thing: I'm no longer alone to face what's coming. Zhi Ling is with me, and that changes everything.