Tuesday was the longest day of the week.
The house remained a tomb of expensive silence. Yue sat curled into the corner of the velvet sofa in the master suite, her long black hair fanned out over the cream fabric. She was wearing a silk slip, another gift from her mother-in-law, that felt like water against her pale skin. She wanted toask for other options of clothes but she was not sure how she would explain not being okay with the current sets available.
She was staring at the wall, her mind replaying lines of code like a trapped bird beating its wings against a cage.
Fu found her there in the afternoon. He had spent the morning in his study, but the quiet of the house seemed to draw him back to her. He paused in the doorway, his charcoal suit jacket gone, his white sleeves rolled up to reveal those corded forearms she had seen in the kitchen.
"You've been in that exact spot for four hours," he said, his voice a low, steady anchor in the room.
Yue didn't look up. "There's nothing to do."
"There is." He stepped into the room, his presence immediately making the space feel smaller. "Eat. Rest. Wander the gardens."
Yue let out a quiet breath, halfway between a sigh and a scoff. "That's not living, Fu. That's being a houseplant."
Silence followed. It was the boldest thing she had said to him yet. She felt his gaze on the top of her head, heavy and assessing.
"What do you want, Yue?"
She lifted her head then, her dark eyes finding his through the curtain of her hair. "I want my laptop."
It was the first time she had asked for something. Not reacted. Not complied. Asked.
Fu didn't answer immediately. He leaned on the wall, crossing his arms. "What for?"
"Does it matter?" Yue's fingers tightened slightly against the silk of her robe.
"Okay," Fu said simply. "I'll have the latest model brought in within the hour."
"I don't want a new one," Yue snapped. The sharpness of her own voice surprised her. It hung in the air, a vibrating wire of defiance.
Fu's eyebrows rose just a fraction. Teasing her, he said "The hardware is superior, Yue. You'll adjust."
"No."
The word landed like a stone in a glass pond. Yue went still. Her heart hammered against her ribs, and her shoulders tensed instinctively. She shouldn't have said that. She had lived it with Wei. Defiance led to the weight in the air.
Her gaze dropped, her breath catching as she braced for him to move closer. To tower over her. To show her why "no" wasn't an option.
Instead, she heard the soft thud of footsteps.
Fu didn't loom. He didn't grow louder. He moved toward the sofa and, to her utter shock, he lowered himself. He didn't sit, but he crouched down until he was at eye level with her.
Yue blinked, her long lashes fluttering in confusion. She was used to looking up at men's chins while they barked orders.
"It is okay to say No."
His voice was quiet. Steady. There was no edge, no threat of a blow. Just a hard, obsidian fact.
Yue stared at him, searching his dark eyes for the trap. Her breath was stuck in her throat.
"If you have something to say," Fu continued, his gaze locked onto hers, "say it loud."
The silence that followed wasn't heavy with fear. It was thick with something else, a strange, terrifying respect.
Fu held her gaze for a second longer, his eyes dropping briefly to her lips before he stood back up. He cleared his throat, his expression returning to its usual disciplined mask.
"I'll have the driver pick it up from your old apartment," he said simply. "It will be here by tonight."
He turned and walked out before she could even say thank you.