The rain didn't stop.
It followed her.
Not literally—but it felt like it did.
By the time Zian stepped into the gates of the Sheng residence, the sky had darkened completely, the soft grey of evening turning into a heavy blue-black, while the rain fell steadily, tapping against the ground, the trees, the iron gates, creating a quiet rhythm that felt almost too calm for everything that had happened.
She didn't rush inside.
Didn't shake off the rain.
Didn't even look back.
Because she already knew.
They were watching.
Of course they are.
The thought passed lazily through her mind as she walked across the wide stone pathway leading to the mansion, her shoes making faint sounds against the wet surface, her wet hair sticking slightly to her face, though her expression remained completely unbothered.
Behind her, the car engine stopped.
Doors opened.
Footsteps followed.
Inside the mansion, the lights were warm.
Too warm.
It contrasted sharply with the cold rain outside, making everything feel just a little more… fake.
Zian stepped in.
Servants moved quietly.
No one spoke.
But everyone looked.
Wow… dramatic entrance much?
Huo Lou almost choked.
She turned her head away quickly, pretending to fix her hair.
Sterling pressed his lips together tightly.
Their mother's expression didn't change—but her eyes sharpened.
Zian slipped off her wet shoes and walked in like she owned the place, not even waiting for anyone to say anything, her movements calm, natural, as if this wasn't a house full of people who disliked her.
If they want drama, they're not getting it.
Fiang Sheng entered last.
He didn't speak.
Didn't move much.
But his gaze—
Stayed on her.
Dinner was already prepared.
Of course it was.
Because in houses like this, timing didn't matter—control did.
Everyone sat down.
Positions were fixed.
Distances were measured.
Even silence had a structure.
Zian sat down casually, picking up her spoon without hesitation, not waiting, not asking, not acknowledging the tension that filled the table.
Food first. Problems later.
Sterling let out a small, accidental laugh before quickly covering it with a cough.
Their mother finally spoke.
"Explain."
Zian didn't look up.
"About?" she asked.
Inside—
Be specific, please. I hate vague questions.
Huo Lou slammed her hand lightly on the table.
"Don't act like you don't know!"
Zian slowly looked up.
Her eyes were calm.
Too calm.
"You mean the people who attacked me?" she said.
Inside—
Or do you want a full performance?
Silence.
Her father finally spoke.
"Who sent them?"
Zian blinked once.
Then shrugged.
"No idea."
Inside—
Could be anyone. This girl had too many enemies.
The sentence echoed clearly.
Too many enemies.
Huo Lou frowned deeply.
Sterling leaned back slightly.
Their mother's fingers tapped lightly against the table.
"You didn't look surprised," she said.
Zian took another bite of food.
Chewed.
Swallowed.
"I wasn't," she replied simply.
Inside—
Surprise is useless in situations like that.
Fiang Sheng's gaze sharpened slightly.
Her father leaned forward just a little.
"Why?"
Zian rested her chin lightly on her hand.
"Because if someone hates you," she said calmly, "they don't warn you."
Inside—
They act.
Silence fell again.
Heavier this time.
Because that answer—
Wasn't wrong.
Huo Lou frowned even deeper.
Sterling looked thoughtful.
Their mother's eyes narrowed slightly.
Fiang Sheng watched her without blinking.
She thinks like this naturally?
The thought slipped through his mind—
And for a split second—
Zian paused.
Not visibly.
Not obviously.
But something in her eyes flickered.
Then it was gone.
Dinner continued.
But no one was eating normally anymore.
Every movement.
Every word.
Every thought—
Was being watched.
After dinner—
The real conversation began.
The study room.
Dark wood.
Dim lighting.
Closed space.
Zian stood near the window, her arms loosely crossed, her posture relaxed as if she wasn't standing in front of a full interrogation.
Her family sat.
Watching.
Fiang Sheng leaned against the wall.
Silent.
Observing.
Her mother spoke first.
"You're changing."
Zian didn't turn.
"People do that," she said.
Inside—
Again with this topic?
Sterling spoke next.
"You dodged them too easily."
Zian glanced at him.
"I moved," she said.
Inside—
Do you want me to stand still and get hit?
Huo Lou clicked her tongue.
"That's not normal."
Zian tilted her head slightly.
"Neither is getting attacked randomly," she replied.
Inside—
Pick your problem.
Sterling looked away.
Fiang Sheng finally spoke.
"You knew where they were."
Zian's eyes shifted to him.
"No," she said.
Inside—
I sensed them.
The word hung there.
Sensed.
Everyone heard it.
The room went still.
Her mother's gaze sharpened dangerously.
Sterling straightened.
Huo Lou froze.
Fiang Sheng's eyes darkened.
"Sensed?" he repeated.
Zian blinked.
Then shrugged.
"Instinct," she corrected casually.
Inside—
Careful.
The tension didn't disappear.
It only changed.
Now—
They weren't just suspicious.
They were curious.
After a long silence, her father spoke.
"We will investigate."
Zian nodded slightly.
Inside—
Good. Do your job.
Huo Lou narrowed her eyes.
"She's acting like she doesn't care," she muttered.
Zian looked at her.
"I don't," she said simply.
Inside—
Unless it becomes annoying.
Sterling laughed again.
This time he didn't hide it.
"Annoying?" he repeated.
Zian looked at him calmly.
"Yes."
Inside—
Like this conversation.
He stopped laughing.
Fiang Sheng watched all of this carefully.
Every reaction.
Every mismatch.
Because something didn't add up.
Not her words.
Not her thoughts.
Not her behavior.
Nothing matched the girl he knew.
And yet—
There was no proof.
Later that night—
Zian stood alone in her room.
The rain had stopped.
But the ground was still wet.
The air still heavy.
She stood by the window, looking out into the dark garden, her expression calm, but her eyes sharp, her mind moving faster than ever.
Someone sent them.
Her fingers tapped lightly against the window.
And this is just the beginning.
A faint smile appeared.
Good.
Behind her—
The door was slightly open.
And outside—
Someone was standing there.
Listening.
Fiang Sheng.
His gaze was dark.
Focused.
Unmoving.
Because now—
He wasn't just curious.
He was interested.
And interest—
Was far more dangerous.