The pale blush of dawn crept through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Xiao family's mansion, gilding the marble floors in a faint amber hue. The air inside was still and polished—every sound crisp and distinct. Somewhere down the hall, a clock chimed six times, precise and dignified, as if marking the start of another day that demanded perfection.
Yun Xiao stirred awake to the muffled echo of city life awakening beyond the glass—cars humming faintly, the whisper of the wind across the gardens. He sat up, rubbing his temples. Another day of meetings, paperwork, and performance. Being the eldest son of one of China's most influential families meant there was no space for mistakes. No space for breath.
He moved through his room quietly, every motion practiced. The soft rustle of his tailored shirt sleeves, the faint click of silver cufflinks, the whisper of polished shoes sliding on the carpet—all fell into a rhythm he had long grown accustomed to. The walls of his room were adorned with framed photographs: a younger Yun Xiao and his twin brother, Wang Jie, laughing in matching white shirts by the seaside; another of them standing before their father's company headquarters, arms slung around each other.
He paused for a moment before the latter photo, fingers brushing over the frame. "You always said I was too serious," he murmured. "But look at you, you're the one who disappeared first."
"Yun Xiao! Breakfast is ready!" came the gentle yet commanding voice of his mother, echoing faintly through the corridor.
"Coming! Almost done!" he called back, snatching a dark tie from the immaculate row arranged in his mahogany wardrobe. He tied it swiftly, glanced once more at the mirror—his reflection composed but the faint sadness still lurking in his eyes—and left his room.
The scent of freshly toasted bread and cherry jam wafted up the grand staircase, mingling with the fragrance of blooming lilies arranged in the foyer. As he descended, the polished steps reflected his shadow like a ghost of himself.
The dining room was vast yet warm. Sunlight poured through the tall windows, brushing over the elegant breakfast spread. His mother, LianLu, sat gracefully at the end of the table, her hair perfectly done, her expression a blend of calm and subtle worry. His father, Chang'er, sat opposite, reading the morning reports but clearly distracted by the heaviness that hung over the house.
"Morning," Yun Xiao greeted, his voice low as he took his seat.
"Morning, my dear," LianLu replied softly, her eyes flickering toward him with that motherly tenderness that always seemed to notice what he tried to hide.
The breakfast before him looked perfect: golden slices of bread neatly layered with cherry jam, a small bowl of fresh fruit, and a porcelain cup of green tea steaming gently beside the plate. His favorites. Yet somehow, even the familiar aroma couldn't lift the quiet ache that had settled in his chest.
He took a bite, chewed once, and then his gaze drifted instinctively to the empty chair beside him—the one that had been untouched for months.
His father noticed the pause. "What is it, Yun Xiao?" Chang'er asked, setting his cup down, his deep voice steady but concerned.
Yun Xiao hesitated before answering. "Nothing, Pa… I just…" His throat tightened slightly. "I just wonder when he'll be back. It's been months already. Wang Jie's never been gone this long before."
For a heartbeat, neither parent spoke. Then, ever so subtly, LianLu and Chang'er exchanged a glance—one laced with quiet tension and something unsaid.
"He'll be back," LianLu said finally, her tone gentle but firm, as if speaking the words could will them true. "I promise you, Yun Xiao."
He frowned, stirring his tea absently. "It's just strange, Ma. Wang Jie's never done anything without telling me. Not once. How could he have left without even a word?"
LianLu sighed softly, her gaze lowering to her plate. "You were busy then—remember? Preparing for that art exhibition. You hardly had time for yourself, let alone for him. We all thought…" she smiled faintly, "we all thought you'd grow up to be an artist, not a businessman."
Yun Xiao gave a small, distracted smile. "Maybe he took my creativity with him," he said, half-teasing, half-wistful.
Chang'er reached over, his large hand patting his son's shoulder with quiet reassurance. "Your twin is fine. He's probably somewhere thinking up a hundred and one excuses for leaving without telling you. Be ready to scold him when he gets back."
Yun Xiao exhaled through his nose, the smallest ghost of a grin crossing his face. "That brat," he muttered fondly. "Just wait until I see him again."
LianLu chuckled softly, though her laughter carried an undertone of longing. "Don't be too harsh on him, Yun Xiao. You both have the same stubbornness—it's a family curse."
For a while, silence settled comfortably between them. The only sounds were the gentle clink of cutlery and the faint rustle of leaves outside the window.
By the time breakfast ended, the heaviness in the air had softened. Yun Xiao rose from his seat, adjusting his tie again, ready to face the empire that awaited him. But as he passed the empty chair once more, he slowed just slightly.
His gaze lingered on it—the seat that once held laughter, teasing remarks, shared secrets. He reached out, his fingers brushing the polished wood before pulling away.
"I'll hold the fort till you're back, Wang Jie," he murmured quietly, his voice almost lost beneath the whisper of the morning breeze that drifted through the open balcony doors.
And somewhere beyond that horizon, far from the mansion's quiet perfection, the other twin's fate—still unknown—waited to unfold.
______
The towering glass façade of the SeanJie Corporation shimmered under the pale morning sun, its reflection casting golden ripples across the busy street below. Luxury cars rolled up one after another before the grand entrance, where security officers in sharp suits bowed politely as employees and guests streamed in. The name Xiao carried an air of both reverence and intimidation—it was a dynasty in its own right, one that shaped markets, dictated deals, and built empires.
Inside the main lobby, the polished marble floors gleamed like mirrors beneath the soft hum of conversation and clicking heels. The air was rich with the scent of imported lilies and freshly brewed coffee, the rhythmic tap of keyboards echoing faintly from the open-concept offices above.
"Good morning, Mr. Xiao!" voices rang out almost in unison the moment Yun Xiao stepped through the entrance with his father beside him.
The younger Xiao carried himself with natural grace—broad-shouldered, crisp in a tailored black suit that accentuated his quiet authority. His dark hair framed his chiseled face perfectly, his expression composed but kind. His deep-set eyes had that effortless charm that made people instinctively want to be in his good graces.
"Morning," he greeted, the faintest hint of a smile playing on his lips.
If Yun Xiao was the polished steel of the company, his father, Xiao Chang'er, was its iron foundation—older, seasoned, with the quiet confidence of a man who had wrestled with the world and won. Yet today, the younger man seemed to draw more eyes than his father.
As they walked through the lobby, Yun Xiao's subtle charisma seemed to command attention without even trying. Whispers followed him, heads turned, smiles bloomed too brightly. Even the receptionist, who prided herself on professionalism, flushed red when their gazes accidentally met.
"Wow, Mr. Xiao is as handsome as ever," one of the younger employees whispered once they passed, her tone half admiring, half bitter.
"Handsome doesn't even cut it," another replied, eyes still fixed on the retreating figure of Yun Xiao. "Too bad his secretary already took the spot beside him. I swear, I envy that bitch."
"Feng Wu," the first hissed, rolling her eyes. "That sly woman dresses in those tight skirts and short blouses just to get his attention. But well… I guess it worked. The CEO can't possibly—"
"Shut up," a third colleague cut in sharply, glancing around nervously. "Do you want to get fired? The CEO might hear. You think speaking ill of him will earn you a promotion?"
The first pouted but lowered her voice, unwilling to relent. "But it's true…"
"Have you seen anything with your own eyes?" the third woman countered. "Feng Wu might be ambitious, but the CEO's too buried in work to even notice anyone. He barely has time to look at his own reflection, let alone a secretary. Don't talk nonsense."
The others fell silent, though envy still lingered in the air like perfume.
At the far end of the hall, oblivious to the gossip that trailed him, Yun Xiao pressed the elevator button. His father stood beside him, smiling faintly, eyes glinting with amusement.
"I'm envious," Chang'er said quietly, leaning in as though sharing a secret.
Yun Xiao looked at him, brow raised. "About what?"
"Back in my days…" his father began, a wistful tone creeping into his voice.
"Urgh, not again, Dad," Yun Xiao interrupted with a groan. "You've told that story a thousand times—to me, to Wang Jie, to anyone who'd listen. Aren't you tired of it?"
"But it's a good story!" Chang'er protested with exaggerated indignation.
"I'm sure Mom misses you," Yun Xiao said quickly, hoping to divert him. "Go home and spend time with her. I can handle everything here. I've always done my best."
He tried to sound casual, but his tone held that faint, unspoken ache—the absence of his twin brother, Wang Jie. The stories their father loved to tell were the only things that once made the long workdays bearable when his brother was around to laugh at them. Without him, even nostalgia felt hollow.
Chang'er sighed dramatically. "Ignoring your father now, huh? Let's see how long you can last without me. I'm going to the woman who actually loves me."
Yun Xiao chuckled softly. He could never quite tell who the parent was between them. It was a running joke among the staff that Chairman Xiao Chang'er and his son looked more like brothers—except the son was always the more serious, responsible one.
He remembered the day a new intern mistook him for the elder and his father for the son. The poor girl had almost fainted in embarrassment. But secretly, Yun Xiao couldn't deny the truth—his father's youthful exuberance had always been unshakable.
"Dad," he called after him as Chang'er began walking toward the exit, hands swinging cheerfully.
His father turned, eyes bright. "Yes? Anything for me?"
"Take care of yourself and Mom," Yun Xiao said simply.
Chang'er smiled warmly. "Of course I will. You don't have to announce it every time."
Yun Xiao nodded, lips curving in a faint smile. "I trust you."
"Good boy," Chang'er chuckled, giving a playful wave before heading out, leaving Yun Xiao standing alone beneath the glass dome ceiling that filtered sunlight like liquid gold.
Hours later, the door to Yun Xiao's office clicked open. The space was sleek and minimalistic—floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Shanghai's skyline, a vast mahogany desk, and the faint hum of city life below. The only sound was the rhythmic tapping of keys as Yun Xiao worked through a sea of documents.
"Mr. Xiao," came a soft voice.
He looked up briefly. "Feng Wu. Come in."
She stepped inside, her figure neat and professional in a white blouse and black skirt, carrying a thick folder pressed to her chest.
"Any word from him yet?" he asked, eyes flicking up from the monitor.
"I checked with the university he's attending," she said carefully. "But since it's exam period, no one can contact the students. It's against school policy."
Yun Xiao's expression darkened slightly. His shoulders sagged with a sigh that felt heavier than the air around him. "I see. Understood. You can get back to work."
Feng Wu hesitated, her grip tightening on the folder.
He noticed. His gaze lifted again, calm but sharp. "Is there something else?"
She swallowed hard, unsure how to begin. "About what I told you earlier…"
He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin, studying her. After a long moment, he exhaled softly. "Is it because of what I said that you want to resign?"
Her eyes widened. "No, Mr. Xiao! Of course not!" she blurted, shaking her head quickly. "That's just your nature—serious, demanding, focused. I could never take offense at that."
"Then why?"
Feng Wu lowered her gaze. "It's my grandmother," she admitted quietly. "She's bedridden. My mother found a stable job here in Shanghai after the divorce, and there's no one to care for Grandma. I can't leave her alone. That's the only reason."
Yun Xiao nodded slowly, his expression softening. "I understand. Family should always come first."
He paused for a moment, then added, "I'll accept your resignation—but only if you can find a suitable replacement within two weeks. I have an important trip coming up, and I need someone reliable before I leave. I'll also make sure you receive a full compensation package for your service here."
Feng Wu's eyes glimmered briefly with emotion. She bowed slightly, forcing a polite smile. "Thank you, Mr. Xiao. I'll do my best. Two weeks is more than enough."
"Good. Now, what's that?" he asked, nodding toward the file in her hands.
"Oh, right. The Yu Industry proposal—just as you requested."
"Leave it on the table," he said, already returning his attention to the screen, fingers resuming their relentless rhythm across the keyboard.
Feng Wu set the file down gently, watching him for a brief moment. The soft blue light from the computer screen illuminated his face—the hard lines of determination etched deep into the calm exterior.
She sighed quietly. Her boss was brilliant, dedicated, unflinchingly precise—but also achingly alone.
As she turned to leave, she cast one last look at the file sitting on the edge of his desk. If no one reminded him, it would probably gather dust there for months—just like the others before it. He would lose himself again in his endless work, counting hours but never days.
When the door closed behind her, the office fell silent once more. Only the steady rhythm of the keyboard and the faint hum of the city below filled the air—echoes of a man who carried too much, and felt too little, beneath the weight of his family's name.