After that near-showdown "invitation" in the car that night, Zong Yi felt as if she had been thrown into ice water poured into boiling oil. On the surface she exploded violently, yet inside she froze rapidly, falling into an unprecedented chaos and silence.
She did not agree, nor did she clearly refuse. She only maintained the last shred of composure with an almost system-crashed stiffness, hastily ending that suffocating journey home.
In the following days, she found every possible excuse to reduce how often she went to the apartment. Her replies to phone calls and messages also became short and delayed, carrying a deliberate yet full-of-loopholes sense of distance.
Yan Hanxie said nothing about it.
She did not question her, did not urge her, and did not even bring up the villa or that shocking proposal again.
She simply lived as usual, did rehabilitation, handled some necessary work communications, as if the words from that night had merely been mentioned casually and had long since drifted away with the wind.
But that calm instead made Zong Yi even more uneasy.
She understood Yan Hanxie. That was not a woman who would give up her goals easily.
Silence often meant deeper planning, and more patient waiting.
Sure enough, a few days later, Zong Yi received a message from Yan Hanxie. The content was a preview image of an electronic invitation—one of the city's top interior design studios was hosting a private customized appreciation salon, with an extremely limited guest list.
The attached message contained only one sentence:
[If you're free on Saturday afternoon, come take a look with me. The house is finalized. I need some inspiration.]
The reason was, as always, impeccable.
The house really had been finalized. It was that villa with the large terrace.
As a "meritorious contributor" (at least a "meritorious contributor" who had accompanied her to view the houses), and the person currently handling most of Yan Hanxie's external affairs, accompanying her to such a salon seemed perfectly natural.
Zong Yi stared at that message for a long time.
Refusal circled through her mind countless times, but in the end she discovered with frustration that she could not find a sufficiently firm excuse that would not appear overly rude or guilty.
On Saturday afternoon, she appeared at the agreed location on time.
Yan Hanxie had already arrived. She was wearing a sharply tailored beige suit skirt set, with a high-quality camel trench coat over it. Her long hair was elegantly pinned up, her complexion rosy, her eyes bright. She stood in front of the huge artistic wall at the salon entrance, speaking quietly with the studio's director.
The traces of her serious illness had almost completely been concealed by the composed aura that had once again gathered around her. Only a slight thinness remained, which instead added a touch of refined elegance.
When she saw Zong Yi, she gave a slight nod. Her gaze paused on her for a moment.
Zong Yi was dressed relatively formally today as well. Dark blue suit trousers paired with a light gray knitted sweater, covered with a black short coat. Her hair was tied into a low ponytail, making her look capable and… somewhat restrained.
"You're here," Yan Hanxie said in a normal tone, as if there had never been any awkwardness between them. "This is Lena, the studio director. Lena, this is Zong Yi."
After polite greetings, the three of them entered the salon together.
The space was designed with exceptional taste. The lighting was soft, the music gentle. Various furniture pieces, lamps, artworks, and fabric samples were cleverly displayed in separate zones, creating living scenes with different styles yet harmonious unity.
There were not many guests present, but it was obvious they were either wealthy or powerful. They spoke quietly and carried themselves with elegance.
Yan Hanxie looked very carefully.
From the modern minimalist section to the vintage mixed-style corner, she occasionally stopped, reaching out to touch the sofa fabrics, feel the texture of the wood, or pick up a uniquely designed table lamp to examine it closely.
Lena stood beside her, professionally introducing the design concepts, material characteristics, and customization details.
Zong Yi followed half a step behind. At first she was somewhat distracted, but soon her attention was drawn by the exquisite designs and meticulous details.
She herself had unique insights into the combination of aesthetics and functionality, and occasionally could not help offering a quiet comment or two.
"The storage system of this side cabinet is designed very cleverly. Hidden partitions, suitable for storing small and infrequently used items," she said, pointing to a walnut side cabinet with smooth lines.
Hearing this, Yan Hanxie stopped and looked in the direction she indicated, nodding.
"Not bad. It could work in either the living room or the study."
Lena immediately continued, "Ms. Yan truly has excellent taste. This piece is the proud work of our chief designer. It can be completely customized according to space dimensions and functional needs. The two of you can also take a look at the color boards and material samples here to match the style that best suits your residence."
The phrase "the two of you" flowed naturally from Lena's mouth, as if Zong Yi were already the female host of that future villa.
Zong Yi's cheeks warmed slightly. She subconsciously wanted to explain, but Yan Hanxie had already naturally taken over the conversation.
"Alright, let's look at the samples."
During the following time, Yan Hanxie began frequently asking for Zong Yi's opinions.
"For this sofa leather, which is more durable to look at, dark brown or light gray?"
"For the study's bookshelf, do you think fully open shelves are better, or with some glass cabinet doors?"
"For the bedroom curtains, something that balances blackout and light transmission—how about this linen blend material?"
One question after another, detailed down to color schemes, materials, and even the shape of certain ornaments.
Each time, she would tilt her head slightly, her gaze resting on Zong Yi's face, waiting for her answer with a focused and serious expression, as if Zong Yi's opinion were extremely important.
At first Zong Yi answered cautiously, trying to remain objective and neutral, analyzing only from the perspectives of function and aesthetics.
But Yan Hanxie always seemed able to capture more subtle preferences from her few words.
"You looked twice at the Mystic Blue fabric just now." Yan Hanxie pointed at a piece of velvet sample as deep as the night sky. "Do you like this color?"
Zong Yi choked for a moment. She did think the color was calm and textured, but… "I just think the texture is nice."
"Mm." Yan Hanxie responded and gestured to the assistant beside her. "This one. Note it down. It can be used for the master bedroom cushions or a single chair."
The assistant immediately recorded it.
Zong Yi's heartbeat skipped.
The master bedroom?
What made Zong Yi even more at a loss was that Yan Hanxie began directly selecting items in pairs.
When they arrived at the tableware display area, she picked up a pair of bone china coffee cups. The exterior was minimalist matte white, while the inner rim had a delicate ring of hand-painted golden ripple patterns.
"How about this? For drinking coffee at breakfast," she asked Zong Yi.
Zong Yi looked at the clearly couple-style cups, her throat dry.
"…Quite elegant."
"Then this set. Two pairs," Yan Hanxie told the assistant in a tone as calm as ordering office supplies.
At the homewear display area, she touched a set of silk pajamas. The top was smoke gray, the pants a slightly lighter gray.
"The material is very comfortable. Suitable for home wear," she commented, then turned to Zong Yi. "What material do you usually wear at home?"
Zong Yi was caught off guard.
"…Mostly cotton."
"Silk is more skin-friendly and also better for sleep." As if she had not heard the answer, Yan Hanxie made her own decision. "This set. Smoke gray and haze blue. One of each size…" She reported two sizes. One was hers, and the other was clearly Zong Yi's.
Zong Yi's face turned completely red. Even the tips of her ears burned.
She wanted to say "no need," but Yan Hanxie had already moved her gaze away and continued looking at the cashmere blankets nearby.
"This blanket—good for napping, or covering up while reading in the living room at night. The size is large enough."
Yan Hanxie lifted a soft and thick cashmere throw, dark gray with handmade tassels along the edges.
She shook it open slightly, gestured for size, and then, extremely naturally, draped one corner of the blanket lightly over Zong Yi's shoulder.
Warmth, along with the fluffy texture unique to top-quality cashmere, instantly wrapped around her shoulder.
Zong Yi stiffened completely, as if someone had pressed an acupuncture point.
Yan Hanxie merely tilted her head slightly, examining her.
"The color suits you."
After saying that, she removed the blanket and handed it to the assistant.
"This one. Note it."
The entire process flowed smoothly, naturally, as if they were truly intimate partners selecting items together for their new home, and those "double" choices with obvious pairing meanings were nothing more than ordinary necessities for daily life.
The verbal reasons were always "more convenient to buy together," "spares," "they'll be used eventually."
But Zong Yi was not stupid.
Those couple cups, the same-style pajamas in different colors, the large blanket enough for two people to share… and when Yan Hanxie selected them, the seemingly casual yet actually careful consideration of her preferences, and the occasional meaningful glances toward her…
Everything pointed to an obvious purpose.
Yan Hanxie was preparing.
In her own way, slowly yet firmly, she was adding bricks and tiles to the future of "living together," creating the atmosphere.
Through these concrete, delicate objects, she was silently constructing the prototype of a "home," a space that required the presence of "two people."
Through this method, she was gradually dismantling Zong Yi's psychological defenses, letting her become accustomed to being included in her future plans, accustomed to those "shared" choices filled with possessiveness and intimacy.
Perhaps it was still too early to say she had gotten what she wanted.
But at least, the prey had already been half coaxed and half lured by her into the "nest's" renovation site, personally watching and personally participating as those bits and pieces that might belong to "them" in the future were selected and confirmed one by one.
The road of chasing a wife was long?
No. The hunter was personally arranging the future marital home (even though in name it was only a "villa"), and cleverly letting the future "bride" adapt to everything in advance.
When the salon ended, dusk had already deepened. In the assistant's hands was already a thick stack of selected lists and sample materials.
After getting into the car, Yan Hanxie rubbed her brow, revealing a trace of perfectly timed fatigue.
"Thank you for your hard work today," she said to Zong Yi, her tone carrying a rare hint of gentleness. "Without your help as a reference, I really wouldn't have been able to make decisions alone."
Zong Yi looked at the flowing lights outside the window rapidly retreating behind them and said nothing.
The Buddhist beads on her wrist were silent and composed in the dim light.
She suddenly felt that she was like this string of beads.
Once abandoned, then picked up again, worn on this woman's wrist (though now it was on her own wrist).
Now, it seemed she was about to be placed onto an even larger display rack called "Yan Hanxie's future," becoming one carefully matched and indispensable "collection piece" among them.
Resist?
It seemed she had already missed the best timing.
Accept?
And what would that mean?
She did not know.
She only knew that Yan Hanxie's net was tightening more and more.
And she herself was being drawn, step by step, toward the center of that net.
—
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