*Chapter 8: The First Cut*
Dinner that evening was a quiet affair. Mei Yan had gone home, leaving behind a strange emptiness that settled over Li Xue like a shadow. Zhao Liang's two friends lingered, their jokes now muted as they sensed the shift in the air.
Li Xue placed a dish on the table, careful to keep her hands steady. She had spent hours cooking, hoping that maybe, just maybe, he would see her effort.
But Zhao Liang barely looked at the food before pushing the plate aside. "You should've saved yourself the trouble. I don't eat this."
The words were cold, deliberate, like shards of ice sinking into her skin. Her lips trembled, but she forced herself to remain composed.
One of his friends frowned. "Come on, Zhao. That's harsh. At least taste it."
Zhao Liang shot him a warning glare, then leaned back in his chair. "This is a contract, not a love story. She doesn't need to play house."
The silence that followed was deafening. Li Xue's heart pounded painfully, each word echoing like a cruel reminder of her place.
Still, she lifted her chin, her voice soft but steady. "I didn't cook for the contract. I cooked for you."
His eyes met hers for a brief, searing moment, unreadable and yet sharp enough to slice through her fragile hope. Then, with deliberate cruelty, he turned away. "Don't waste your energy on me."
Li Xue's chest tightened, her carefully built resolve cracking. His rejection wasn't loud, wasn't violent — but it was devastating all the same.
The friends exchanged uneasy glances, their earlier banter gone. And though no one spoke, Li Xue understood something bitterly clear: this was only the beginning of his torment.