The dining hall of the Li estate was a cathedral of intimidation. A single, long table of polished mahogany stretched forty feet, reflecting the candlelight like a dark, stagnant river. At the head sat Li Zhen, the patriarch, his presence a heavy atmospheric pressure that made the air feel thin. To his right was Lu Yan, and directly across from him sat Meilin.
Shanshan had been placed at the far end of the table, near the heavy velvet curtains—a calculated insult. She was physically present, yet socially invisible, a "ghost" guest the servants served with practiced indifference.
The only sound was the rhythmic, metallic clink of sterling silver against fine bone china.
Meilin stared down at her plate. A delicate portion of sea bass sat untouched, glistening under a lemon glaze that looked like melted wax. She felt the weight of Lu Yan's gaze on her—a heavy, oily sensation that made her skin crawl.
"You've been very quiet since the balcony, Meilin," Lu Yan said, his voice cutting through the silence like a dull saw. He took a slow sip of a deep red vintage, his eyes never leaving her face. "One might think the night air didn't agree with you. Or perhaps... the company?"
Meilin didn't look up. She meticulously cut a tiny piece of fish, her movements clinical. "The air was refreshing, Lu Yan. It's the indoor atmosphere that feels a bit... recycled."
Li Zhen cleared his throat—a sound like grinding stones. "Lu Yan is concerned for your health, Meilin. And for the 'image' of the family. There are rumors starting to circulate among the staff. About your 'closeness' with the contestants. It's unbecoming for a judge's fiancée to be seen as... overly sentimental."
Meilin felt a sharp, sudden heat rise in her chest—not anger, but a protective instinct she didn't recognize. She risked a glance toward the end of the table.
Shanshan was sitting perfectly still. She wasn't eating. She was staring at a point on the tablecloth, her posture so rigid she looked like a marble statue. In the dim light, the violet of her dress looked black, and her face was cast in deep shadows.
She's terrified, Meilin thought. And I'm sitting here eating with the man who terrified her.
"I'm not sentimental, Father," Meilin said, her voice dropping an octave. "I'm observant. If I spend time with the contestants, it's to ensure the 'Genesis' brand remains high-quality. Shanshan, for instance, has a vocal range that is statistically superior to seventy percent of the roster. It would be poor business to let such an asset be... mismanaged."
"An asset," Lu Yan repeated, his tongue darting out to lick a drop of wine from his lip. "Is that what you call her? I call her a distraction."
He turned his head toward the end of the table. "Wouldn't you agree, Shanshan? You've certainly distracted my fiancée from her duties tonight. You haven't said a word. Is the food too rich for a girl of your... background?"
Shanshan looked up. Her eyes met Lu Yan's, and for a second, Meilin saw her flinch. But then, Shanshan's gaze drifted to Meilin.
There was a silent plea in those amber eyes—a desperate search for a tether.
Meilin felt a strange, painful tug in her heart. It wasn't the cold, logical empathy she had felt on the balcony. It was something visceral. It was a physical ache, a sudden, irrational urge to stand up, walk the length of the table, and shield Shanshan's eyes from the monsters in the room.
What is this? Meilin wondered, her grip tightening on her fork until the silver bit into her palm. It's just adrenaline. I'm just agitated because the merger is at stake.
"I'm quite full, thank you," Shanshan said, her voice barely a whisper but steady. "The hospitality of the Li family is... unforgettable."
"I'm sure it is," Li Zhen remarked, his eyes narrowing. "Meilin, after dinner, Lu Yan would like to walk you to the lake. He has a gift he's been waiting to present."
Meilin's stomach turned. "I have a headache, Father. I'd prefer to retire."
"The lake, Meilin," Li Zhen repeated. It wasn't a suggestion. It was a command that echoed off the high ceiling.
Meilin looked back at Shanshan. The girl was looking down again, her fingers twisting a linen napkin beneath the table.
In that moment, Meilin realized something terrifying. She wasn't just protecting Shanshan because it was the "right" thing to do or because it was a tactical move against her father. She was doing it because the thought of Shanshan being alone in this house—being vulnerable to the shadows and the men who inhabited them—felt like a personal failure.
It wasn't love. She wouldn't call it that. Love was a fairy tale told to children to make them easier to control. This was... a duty. A high-stakes guardianship.
I will get her out of here, Meilin promised herself, ignoring the way her heart hammered against her ribs at the sight of Shanshan's pale neck. I will break this table, this house, and this merger before I let them break her.
But as the servants began to clear the plates for the dessert course, Meilin didn't see the way Shanshan was looking at her. Shanshan wasn't looking at an "Ice Queen" or a strategist. She was looking at the only person who had ever looked at her like she was a human being.
The dinner ended in a heavy, suffocating silence.
As they stood to leave, Lu Yan moved toward Meilin, his hand reaching for the small of her back. Meilin pivoted sharply, avoiding his touch under the guise of smoothing her gown.
"I'll meet you at the lake in ten minutes," Meilin said, her voice as sharp as a diamond. "I need to ensure our 'asset' finds her way back to the transport safely."
She didn't wait for his answer. She walked toward Shanshan, her gold dress sweeping the floor with an angry, rustling sound.
The tragedy was moving forward, slow and inevitable. The "sadness" was waiting by the water, and Meilin was walking right toward it, thinking she was the one in control.