Sparks Beneath the Cold Walls
The morning light spilled across the sprawling Zhu estate, filtering through silk curtains and bouncing against the polished marble floor. For Xia Lian, however, the new day brought no warmth. She sat at the vanity table in her room, her delicate fingers brushing against the comb but her mind wandering far from her reflection. Her dark eyes looked hollow, her lips pursed as though she were preparing for battle.
Last night's dinner replayed in her mind — every piercing word, every icy stare exchanged with Zhu Yichen. He had humiliated her without raising his voice, his cold indifference louder than any argument. She clenched her jaw, reminding herself why she was here: this marriage was not about love but survival, about protecting her family.
The sudden knock at her door broke her thoughts.
"Madam, Young Master requests your presence in the dining hall," a maid announced nervously.
Xia Lian's brows furrowed. Young Master? Not husband? Zhu Yichen had made it clear to everyone that she was a guest forced upon him, not a true wife. The disrespect stung, but she refused to show weakness.
She rose gracefully, smoothing her pale pink silk robe, and walked toward the dining hall. Each step echoed with defiance — if he wanted a war, she would not bow.
---
Inside the hall, the long table was already set. Zhu Yichen sat at the head, dressed immaculately in a tailored black suit. His posture was rigid, his expression unreadable, but his eyes flickered briefly when she entered.
"You're late," he said flatly.
Xia Lian stopped in her tracks, meeting his gaze. "Perhaps your clock runs too fast," she replied coolly.
The maid serving tea nearly dropped the tray at her boldness. No one ever dared speak to Zhu Yichen in that tone.
His lips twitched — not in amusement, but in irritation. "Sit," he ordered.
She took the seat opposite him, deliberately ignoring the one beside him. He noticed, of course, but said nothing.
The silence stretched between them, broken only by the clinking of chopsticks against porcelain. Xia Lian picked at the food, but her appetite had vanished. She finally set down her chopsticks and looked straight at him.
"Tell me," she began, her voice sharp, "how long do you plan to treat this marriage like a cage? If you think I will sit quietly while you despise me, you are mistaken."
His eyes narrowed. "You speak as if you have a choice."
"I always have a choice," she shot back, her fingers tightening on the tablecloth. "Even if that choice is how I endure your cruelty."
For a moment, Zhu Yichen's mask cracked. Something flickered in his gaze — anger, yes, but beneath it, a strange spark, as though her defiance intrigued him. He leaned back in his chair, studying her like a puzzle.
"You think too highly of yourself," he said finally, voice laced with sarcasm. "Do not forget — you are here because your family needed saving, not because you are indispensable."
The words sliced through her, but Xia Lian did not flinch. Instead, she leaned forward, her eyes blazing. "And do not forget, Zhu Yichen — while you may have power, I will not allow you to break me. You may have forced me into your world, but I will not be your pawn."
The room grew tense, the maids shifting uncomfortably, unsure whether to intervene or retreat. But Zhu Yichen did not lash out. Instead, he smirked, a dangerous curve of his lips.
"Very well," he said slowly. "Let us see how long your fire lasts before it burns you."
---
After breakfast, Xia Lian excused herself and wandered through the garden. The blossoms were in full bloom, their fragrance sweet and intoxicating, but her chest felt heavy. She hated the way he twisted her words, the way he dismissed her existence. Yet, for reasons she could not understand, his every glance lingered in her mind.
A sudden shadow fell across her. She turned and found him standing there, hands in his pockets, watching her silently.
"You follow me now?" she asked bitterly.
"I came to remind you of tonight," he said curtly.
"Tonight?"
"There is a banquet. Business partners, family allies. You will attend as Mrs. Zhu."
The title struck her like a cruel joke. She was his wife in name, yet nothing more.
"And if I refuse?" she asked.
He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. "Then you will prove to everyone that my words about you are true — that you are weak, unworthy, and a mistake."
Her heart clenched, fury rising again. But before she could respond, he leaned in, his voice low, almost a whisper.
"Remember this, Xia Lian — in front of the world, you are mine. Act otherwise, and you will regret it."
The words were harsh, but the nearness of his breath sent an unexpected shiver down her spine. She hated it — hated him — yet her body betrayed her with its reaction.
As he walked away, leaving her trembling under the blossoms, Xia Lian pressed a hand against her chest.
She swore to herself then: no matter how cruel he was, she would never let Zhu Yichen see her break.
But deep down, she could not shake the terrifying thought — that the more she fought him, the deeper he was carving himself into her heart.