The night air by the lake was thick with the scent of damp moss and decaying lilies. The "Genesis" estate felt different under the moonlight; the grand limestone walls looked like bleached bone, and the weeping willows hung like the heavy, unwashed hair of a giant.
Meilin walked ten paces ahead of Lu Yan, her golden heels sinking slightly into the soft, manicured grass. She could hear his rhythmic breathing behind her—a heavy, self-assured sound that made her skin crawl. She wasn't thinking about him, though. Her mind was a chaotic playback of the dining room: Shanshan's trembling hands, the way the candlelight had caught the unshed tears in her amber eyes, and that strange, sharp pang in Meilin's own chest that refused to subside.
"You're walking too fast, darling," Lu Yan called out, his voice smooth and oily. "One might think you're trying to escape your own celebration."
Meilin stopped by the edge of the black water. The lake was a mirror of ink, reflecting nothing but the cold, distant moon. "I'm not celebrating, Lu Yan. I'm enduring. There is a difference."
Lu Yan caught up to her, stepping into her personal space. He smelled of expensive bourbon and a faint, metallic musk. He reached into the inner pocket of his tuxedo and pulled out a small, velvet box. It was a deep, bruised purple—almost the exact shade of the dress Shanshan was wearing.
"A gift," he said, flipping the lid.
Inside sat a necklace of raw, uncut diamonds, set in jagged white gold. They weren't brilliant or warm; they looked like shards of ice, sharp enough to draw blood if pressed against the throat.
"My father had these commissioned from the Siberian mines," Lu Yan whispered, stepping behind her. "He said they reminded him of you. Cold. Hard. Difficult to break, but beautiful under pressure."
Meilin felt his cold fingers brush the nape of her neck as he lifted the necklace. She shivered, a visceral reaction she couldn't hide.
"Is it too cold for you?" he murmured, his breath hot against her ear. "Or are you still thinking about our 'asset' in the dining room? You spent a lot of time looking at the end of the table tonight, Meilin. More time than you spent looking at me."
Meilin stared at her reflection in the water. The diamonds were being fastened around her neck, a glittering collar of status and entrapment. "I look at what interests me, Lu Yan. Competence is interesting. Talent is interesting. Bullying a girl who has nothing is... tedious."
Lu Yan tightened the clasp. For a second, the metal felt too tight, a silent threat against her windpipe. "She doesn't have nothing, Meilin. She has a voice. And she has a mother who is very, very fragile. I think you're forgetting that your 'interest' in her is a liability for everyone involved."
He turned her around, his hands gripping her shoulders. "Don't play hero. It's a messy role, and the costume doesn't suit you. You're a Li. You belong in a palace, not in the mud with the commoners."
Meilin looked into his eyes—eyes that saw her as a trophy, a merger, a thing to be owned. And in that moment, a realization flickered in the depths of her mind, though she was too afraid to name it.
She didn't want the palace. She didn't want the diamonds.
She wanted the quiet, broken girl in the violet dress. She wanted to know what Shanshan's laughter sounded like when there were no cameras. She wanted to know if the warmth she felt when their hands touched was a fluke or a foundation.
No, Meilin told herself, her internal walls rising like iron gates. It's just pity. It's just the stress of the contract. I do not 'want' her. I want justice. There is a difference.
"The necklace is lovely," Meilin said, her voice dropping to a porcelain chill. "But I think we should go back. My father expects a toast before the guests depart."
"Always the perfect daughter," Lu Yan laughed, though there was no humor in it. He let go of her shoulders, his gaze drifting back toward the manor. "Go on, then. But remember, Meilin... diamonds are forever. Contracts are, too."
Meilin turned and walked back toward the lights of the gala, the ice at her throat feeling heavier with every step. She searched the crowds as she entered the ballroom, her eyes scanning the sea of silk for a flash of violet.
She found Shanshan by the exit, being led toward the transport vans by a group of production assistants. Shanshan looked exhausted, her head bowed, her shoulders slumped under the weight of the night.
For a split second, Shanshan looked up. Across the crowded room, through the haze of perfume and the roar of the orchestra, their eyes met.
Shanshan didn't smile. She didn't wave. She simply looked at Meilin—at the gold, at the diamonds, at the "Ice Queen"—and for the first time, Meilin saw a flash of something in Shanshan's eyes that wasn't fear.
It was longing.
Meilin felt her heart skip a beat, a physical stutter that left her lightheaded. She looked away first, her fingers flying to the cold diamonds at her neck.
The tragedy was spinning its web. The "sadness" was no longer a distant whisper; it was the air she was breathing. And as Meilin watched the van pull away into the dark, she realized that the hardest part of the war wasn't going to be fighting Lu Yan.
It was going to be fighting herself.