Yu Miyo stared at her fractured reflection – a grotesque parody of her usual ethereal beauty. Mascara bled like ink tears down her cheeks, her delicate features contorted by a snarl of pure jealousy. The image of Lu Quinzue's protective fury over Xia Yingying's minor cut burned behind her eyelids, momentarily softening her expression… until the memory of that casual, possessive kiss on his cheek slammed back. Hers. It should have been hers.
She slammed her fist against the cracked glass, relishing the jolt of pain. "Xia Yingying," she hissed, venom dripping from each syllable. "You drown in luck while swimming with sharks. Enjoy your gilded cage, little queen. This life?" A harsh, grating laugh erupted from her throat, echoing in the empty room. "I'll make sure you rot in it."
*************************
The Range Rover glided through imposing wrought-iron gates, revealing an estate that commanded silence. Nestled amidst manicured grounds, the mansion wasn't ostentatious; it was a statement of power rendered in cedar, pale limestone, and stark blackened steel. English grandeur seamlessly fused with Japanese minimalism. A vast, mirror-like swimming pool reflected the twilight sky. Every line, every material, spoke of deliberate, understated splendor – a fortress of quiet authority.
Xia Yingying stepped out, inhaling the crisp, pine-scented air, a welcome relief after the charged atmosphere of the car. Lu Quinzue's presence was a physical weight, a magnetic field of controlled intensity that had made the journey feel suffocating despite the spacious interior.
The entrance was deceptively simple: massive, polished oak doors. Their plainness against the surrounding grandeur felt like a deliberate secret. The old butler who opened them bowed deeply. "Welcome home, Young Master." His eyes slid past Xia Yingying as if she were invisible.
Inside, the scale was breathtaking. Soaring ceilings, priceless art adorning the walls, exquisite vases holding rare orchids. One photograph arrested her: a woman in her forties, seated regally on a gilded staircase. Wavy dark hair framed a face of striking beauty, but it was the eyes that held Xia Yingying – fierce intelligence and latent wildness burning beneath a veneer of elegance. The resemblance to Lu Quinzue, especially that commanding aura, was uncanny. 'His mother?'
Lu Quinzue strode past her, adjusting his cufflinks with a fluid, unconscious grace that sent an unwelcome flutter through Xia Yingying's stomach. 'Get a grip' she chided herself.
"The Master and Madam are attending the Sotheby's auction," the butler informed.
"Hmm." Lu Quinzue's acknowledgment was a mere vibration in the air. He gestured for Xia Yingying to follow him down a corridor lined with dark wood panels.
His private suite was a world apart. Stark. Modern. A study in monochrome: deep charcoal walls, a vast bed draped in black linen, white marble accents, and minimalist furniture in brushed steel. It felt like stepping into the lair of a sleek predator. Xia Yingying, surprisingly unperturbed by the severity, tossed her small suitcase onto the bed, claiming territory.
Lu Quinzue watched her, a flicker of surprise in his obsidian eyes. Most recoiled from his space; she sprawled on it. He turned towards the en-suite bathroom, the movement drawing her gaze. The thought of steam, water, and bare skin behind that door sent heat creeping up her neck. 'Ridiculous.' She needed her own shower, preferably when he was occupied.
As soon as the bathroom door clicked shut and the sound of running water began, Xia Yingying sprang up. Rummaging in her suitcase for toiletries, her fingers brushed against something tucked deep in the wardrobe's corner – a framed photograph face down. Curiosity won. She flipped it over.
Lu Quinzue, younger but no less intense, stood beside a woman of breathtaking, almost otherworldly beauty. Her smile was radiant, directed solely at him. A pang, sharp and unexpected, pierced Xia Yingying. 'The rumored girlfriend? The one who died?' The intimacy in the photo was palpable. Why was it hidden here? A wave of unwelcome melancholy washed over her. Their contract felt suddenly flimsy, overshadowed by this ghost. She replaced the photo carefully, her earlier lightness gone.
Determined to find a guest bathroom, she slipped into the corridor. A maid with round glasses and a pinched expression scurried past. "Excuse me, where's the nearest guest bathroom?"
The maid barely paused. "Down the hall, third right, second left, then right again at the end. Can't miss it." Her tone was clipped, dismissive.
Xia Yingying followed the convoluted directions, the corridor stretching endlessly, lined with discreet security cameras. The feeling of being watched intensified. 'A test? Atrap?' Finally, she found a heavy oak door. Locked. "Of course".A grim smile touched her lips. She plucked a slender, ornate hairpin from her chignon. Thirty seconds of focused manipulation later, the lock yielded with a soft click.
The bathroom was a sanctuary of marble and gleaming chrome. Luxurious toiletries filled shelves, including an array of high-end feminine products. Relief flooded her as she realized her period had started. 'Smallmercies.' She sank into the deep, steaming tub, letting the heat soothe her frayed nerves.
She was wrapped in a plush robe when frantic knocking echoed. Opening the door, she found the round-glassed maid wringing her hands, eyes wide with manufactured fear. Behind her stood Lu Quinzue, his expression thunderous, damp hair suggesting he'd dressed hastily.
The maid launched into her performance. "Miss Xia! I told you! I warned you not to come here! The Young Master forbids anyone in the Young Lady's private bath! Her things…" Her voice trembled with false distress.
Xia Yingying's eyes narrowed. 'YoungLady?' Not Madam? The pieces clicked – the photograph, the reverence, the locked room. This wasn't just a guest bath; it was a shrine. She saw the trap, saw the maid's barely concealed triumph. Without evidence, denial was pointless. Playing contrite was safer.
"I apologize," Xia Yingying said, her voice cool and level, meeting Lu Quinzue's gaze directly. "The directions were unclear, and the door was unlocked. I didn't realize it held such significance." She carefully avoided mentioning the maid's sabotage.
Lu Quinzue's gaze swept over her, lingering for a fraction of a second on the robe, then shifted to the maid. His voice was dangerously soft. "This oversight will not be repeated. Ensure all relevant areas are clearly communicated to Madam Lu in the future." The emphasis on 'Madam Lu' was a whip-crack. The maid flinched, her smugness evaporating.
He stepped past Xia Yingying into the bathroom, his presence filling the space. He scanned the pristine counter, the untouched feminine products. Finding nothing disturbed, his shoulders relaxed almost imperceptibly. He turned, his gaze lingering on Xia Yingying. "Are you alright?" The question, low and unexpected, held a roughness that wasn't anger.
Xia Yingying nodded, momentarily speechless. He'd checked… for her sake? The maid pushed her glasses up, a resentful 'hmph' escaping her. Xia Yingying filed her face away for later. 'Revenge is a dish best served cold.'
As Lu Quinzue strode away, Xia Yingying remembered her urgent need for supplies. Her purse was locked in his monochrome fortress. Slipping out a side entrance, she collided with a solid chest.
"Terribly sorry!" a familiar, flamboyant voice exclaimed.
Xia Yingying looked up. "Mark? What are you doing here?"
"Master!" Mark's face lit up with pure joy. Dressed in impeccably tailored, masculine designer wear, he was a far cry from the flamboyant cross-dresser she remembered. He struck a pose. "Behold the transformation! Inspired by paragon of masculine elegance himself, Young Master Lu! No more skirts and stilettos… well, mostly." He winked.
Xia Yingying laughed, the tension easing slightly. "He is a decent template. Listen, Mark, emergency. I need cash. Now." She spotted a convenience store sign glowing down the street.
Mark handed her a 100-yuan note. "Master, it's late! You shouldn't go alone!"
"Since when do I need a babysitter?" she retorted, already moving. "And what are you doing working for the Lu Group?"
"Got headhunted! Best decision ever!" Mark called after her. Then, lowering his voice conspiratorially, "And married? To him? Knew you were too good for that other scheming—"
"Mark!" Xia Yingying cut him off sharply, sensing movement in the shadows near the gate. Lu Quinzue stood there, a silent, imposing silhouette, having witnessed the entire exchange – the familiarity, the laughter, the hug. His expression was unreadable in the gloom.
"Later!" Xia Yingying hissed, snatching Mark's phone to input her number. Feeling a telltale dampness, she hurried towards the gate, flashing the starstruck guards a dazzling, disarming smile. "Gentlemen! Lovely evening!" Before they could process the celestial vision addressing them, she'd darted through the opening they'd instinctively widened for her, vanishing into the dimly lit street.
Lu Quinzue materialized before the guards like an avenging shadow. They snapped to rigid attention, blood draining from their faces.
"Have you seen my wife?" His voice was deceptively calm, like the stillness before a hurricane. He described her with unsettling precision: the mole beneath her eye like a fallen star, skin like polished jade, hair like midnight silk. There was an unsettling tenderness in the description that terrified them more than any shout. "She left this estate. Alone. In the dark."
One guard found his voice. "A lady, Young Master! She… she moved so fast! We tried—"
"Trying," Lu Quinzue interrupted, the single word dripping with icy contempt, "is insufficient when her safety is concerned." He paused, letting the dread build. "Effective immediately, you are reassigned. A mining operation in the Katanga province requires… diligence. Pack for a six-month deployment." He turned to leave.
"Master Lu!" another guard choked out, concern for him warring with their own fear. "Your safety—"
"My safety," Lu Quinzue stated, stopping but not turning, "is irrelevant if hers is compromised. Your failure is noted. The mining assignment stands. Consider it leniency." He disappeared out of the mansion, leaving the guards in stunned, trembling silence. The celestial beauty wasn't just a guest; she was the linchpin of their master's fury. And they had failed her. The punishing African sun would be nothing compared to the cold dread settling in their bones.