POV: Shen Yuxin
The first thing I noticed was the silence.
Not the absence of sound, but the kind of silence that only exists in places where noise is carefully controlled. Soft footsteps on marble. Low voices that never rose above a polite murmur. Even the music drifting from hidden speakers felt restrained, as if it knew it did not have permission to dominate the room.
I stood just inside the entrance of the top floor reception hall, my back straight, my breathing steady, my hands clasped lightly in front of me. Floor to ceiling windows revealed the city far below, lights scattered like a living constellation. This was not a place meant for hesitation. And yet, hesitation was exactly what settled in my chest.
I reminded myself to stay calm.
Panic would not help me here.
People moved around me in expensive suits and evening gowns, their laughter measured, their smiles practiced. Everyone seemed to know where they belonged. I was painfully aware that I did not. My dress fit well enough, tailored just right, but it did not erase the fact that I was an outsider walking into someone else's world.
His world.
Lu Chengye.
I had heard his name long before I ever saw him. Everyone had. He was not just wealthy. He was powerful in a way that did not require explanation. The kind of man whose absence was felt as strongly as his presence.
And he was here.
I could feel it before I saw him. Conversations softened. Movements slowed. Even the air seemed to adjust, as if the room itself was aware of who had entered.
I turned slightly, my gaze lifting despite myself.
He stood several steps away, tall and composed, dressed in a dark suit that looked custom made without trying to be impressive. His expression was calm, unreadable, his posture relaxed in a way that suggested complete control. People greeted him with polite deference, their smiles sharper, their words more careful. He acknowledged them with brief nods, nothing wasted.
When his eyes met mine, the room seemed to narrow.
It was not an intense look. Not sharp. Not probing.
It was assessing.
I felt as if I had been placed under a light, examined for flaws I could not hide. My instinct was to lower my look, but I did not. I met his eyes steadily, reminding myself that I had not come here to be intimidated.
This was a meeting. Nothing more.
At least, that was what I told myself.
A staff member approached him, speaking quietly. He listened, then glanced at me again. This time, he inclined his head slightly, a wordless signal. The staff member immediately changed direction, guiding me toward a private sitting area separated from the main hall by a glass partition.
As I walked, I could feel eyes on me. Curious. Appraising. Some were openly dismissive.
I kept my expression neutral.
I had learned long ago that looking uncertain invited judgment. Looking composed at least made people hesitate.
He joined me moments later, dismissing the staff with a single gesture. The glass walls dulled the sound of the event outside, leaving us in a bubble of controlled quiet.
"Miss Shen," he said.
His voice was low, even, without warmth or hostility. Just a fact.
"Mr. Lu," I replied.
I sat when he did, smoothing my skirt as I crossed my legs. I was aware of every movement, every breath. He did not rush to speak. Instead, he studied me for a brief moment, as if confirming something internally.
"You were recommended to me," he said finally.
"I was told this was a business discussion," I replied carefully.
"It is."
That single word carried weight. Assurance. Finality.
He folded his hands loosely on the table between us. Up close, he was even more unreadable. No visible tension. No obvious tells. He was the kind of man who did not need to prove he was in control. He simply was.
"I value efficiency," he continued. "So I will be direct."
I nodded once. My heartbeat remained steady, though my instincts were screaming for caution.
"I require a partner for a specific period of time," he said. "Someone who can accompany me to public events, fulfill certain social expectations, and remain discreet."
The words landed softly, but their meaning did not.
I did not respond immediately.
A partner.
The implications settled slowly, like ink spreading through water.
"This is not a romantic proposition," he added, as if anticipating my reaction. "It is an arrangement."
An arrangement.
I exhaled quietly through my nose, grounding myself. This was not what I had expected, but it explained the setting, the secrecy, the careful selection.
"And why me?" I asked.
His gaze did not waver. "You are intelligent. You understand boundaries. You are not connected to the circles I need to navigate."
Translation was unnecessary.
I was disposable.
The realization did not hurt as much as I thought it might. I had lived most of my life being overlooked. Being chosen for convenience was not unfamiliar.
"There will be a contract," he continued. "Clear terms. Compensation that reflects the inconvenience."
Inconvenience.
I almost smiled.
"And what happens when the arrangement ends?" I asked.
"It ends," he said simply.
No lingering attachment. No complications.
That, at least, was honest.
I studied him now, not as a man, but as a situation. This was not a story about love or rescue. It was a transaction offered by someone who was used to people saying yes.
I thought of my current circumstances. The pressures waiting for me outside this building. The limited options I had been pretending were choices.
I thought of the city lights below us, distant and uncaring.
"I assume there are rules," I said.
"There are," he replied. "No emotional involvement. No public scenes. You will follow my lead in social settings. In return, I will ensure your privacy and security."
Security.
The word echoed.
"And if I refuse?" I asked, not because I intended to, but because I needed to know.
He did not threaten. He did not persuade me.
"You are free to leave," he said. "This offer does not repeat."
I believed him.
Silence stretched between us again, heavier this time. I was acutely aware of the line forming in my mind, dividing before and after.
If I agreed, my life would change. Not dramatically, perhaps not visibly, but fundamentally.
If I refused, nothing would change at all.
I had never believed change was always good. But stagnation was worse.
"I want to see the contract," I said at last.
Something shifted, subtly. Not satisfied. Not triumph.
Acknowledgment.
"It will be sent to you tonight," Lu Chengye said. "You may take your time to review it."
I stood, signaling the end of the meeting before my resolve could waver. He rose as well, offering a polite nod.
As I turned to leave, his voice stopped me.
"Miss Shen."
I looked back.
"This arrangement will alter how people see you," he said. "And how you see yourself."
His look was steady, unreadable.
"Do not misunderstand what that means."
I inclined my head once, then walked away, my steps measured, my posture unchanged.
But as the noise of the reception washed over me again, my chest tightened.
Because somewhere between the city lights and that quiet room, I realized something I could not ignore.
If I signed that contract, nothing in my life would ever be simple again.