šChapter 6: The Unraveling and the Proposition (Boys' Love Version)
The engagement party trickled into its quiet end, leaving behind half-drunk champagne flutes, scattered petals, and the lingering scent of lilies that Lin Yuhan was starting to hate. It reminded him of grief. Of pretending.
He waited near the coatroom deliberately. A calculated move. Wei Meilin always lingered after events ā she liked to bask in praise and clean up loose narratives.
And sure enough, there she came, arm looped with an older aunt who gushed without shame, "Meilin, you've outdone yourself. The decorations, the playlist, the photos ā you think of everything! And poor Yuhan is so lucky to have you looking after the details, especially with his delicate health."
Yuhan didn't blink. He just smiled, soft but unnerving.
"Indeed, Auntie," he said smoothly. "Meilin's always been so generous with herā¦ image management. I remember when I first stepped back from the public eye, she insisted on running my social accounts." He turned slightly to Meilin, his eyes glinting. "You remember the charity gala? You posted that photo of me looking practically half-dead, with the caption about me being 'too unwell' to attend. Very thoughtful. Veryā¦ subtle."
The color in Meilin's face dropped like spilled wine on white silk. She opened her mouth, but no words came out.
Yuhan's tone remained gentle ā dangerously so. "That photo helped a lot. I got three brand deals canceled that month. But I'm sure it wasn't on purpose."
The aunt gave a nervous little laugh. "Ah, dear, these things happenā"
"Oh, of course they do," Yuhan continued, barely glancing at her. "Like the tech startup Meilin advised me to invest in. The one that crashed within months. She even offered to handle the paperwork for me ā what initiative."
Meilin stiffened. Her mask was cracking now. "Yuhan," she said, too quickly, "that was justā¦ a miscalculation. Everyone lost money."
Yuhan looked directly at her. His voice was soft, his expression calm. "Except you didn't."
Silence.
Meilin let out a strangled chuckle and excused herself, muttering something about the valet. The aunt stood awkwardly for a moment before hurrying after her.
Lin Yuhan didn't smile. He didn't need to. The seed was planted.
---
That night, after the guests had gone and the house grew quiet, he sat alone in the grand, empty living room. A cool breeze slipped through the half-open window, stirring the silk curtains like ghosts from another life.
On the table before him was a tablet ā brand new, slick, and untraceable. Not a toy. A tool. On the screen, a spreadsheet glowed with tabs titled things like "Project Rebirth," "Venture Capital 2025," and "Targeted Allies."
Names. Patterns. Market shifts he remembered from his past life.
> "Feelings won't build my future. Plans will," he muttered under his breath.
His fingers moved swiftly over the glass, drafting an email to an old contact in Shanghai ā someone who, in two years, would become a tech billionaire. But this time, Lin Yuhan would be there first.
He was deep in thought when a shadow fell over the room.
Qi Chen.
He stood in the doorway, suit still on, tie loosened slightly. His usual air of untouchable calm was tinged now with something unsettled. He looked like a man who had stumbled upon something he wasn't sure how to handle.
"You're still up?" he asked quietly.
Yuhan didn't look away from his screen. "Plans don't draft themselves."
Qi Chen stepped into the light. His eyes flicked to the tablet, then back to Yuhan's face. "That's new. Theā¦ tone."
"People change."
"You used to talk about rest. About balance."
Yuhan finally looked up, meeting his gaze with cool precision. "I used to believe things that turned out to be lies."
Qi Chen didn't flinch, but something tightened in his expression.
"You were different tonight," he said after a pause. "Sharper. You never used to talk to Meilin like that."
Yuhan tilted his head slightly. "Maybe I used to be soft. Now I'm smart. The world doesn't reward quiet sacrifices."
Qi Chen moved closer. "You think I wanted you to be quiet?"
Yuhan didn't miss the way he said wanted ā past tense. It stung more than it should have.
"I think you liked me silent enough to ignore. And desperate enough to keep."
Another pause.
Then Qi Chen's voice dropped low ā not angry, but intense. "So what now? You've found your fire again. Good. But where does that leave us?"
Yuhan let the question hang. The weight of it was heavy, real.
He stood slowly, closing the tablet. The faint sound of the lock clicking echoed between them.
"It leaves usā¦ at a choice," Yuhan said. "You can watch me rise, or you can try to keep up. But one thing is certain."
He stepped forward now, close enough to feel Qi Chen's breath.
> "I don't go backward. And I don't cry over boys who couldn't see my worth the first time."
Qi Chen stared at him, jaw clenched.
Yuhan smirked faintly. "Do I look like a fool to you?" he whispered. "Better check again."
And just like that, he walked past Qi Chen, leaving behind a silence that wasn't empty ā but charged. With regret. With desire. And with the threat of a man finally becoming dangerous.