Xia Yingying's smile was glacial as she addressed Lu Quinzue. "Don't you think major household decisions should involve your wife?" The unspoken challenge hung heavy in the air, directed squarely at the maid.
Lu Quinzue met her gaze, a flicker of understanding passing between them. He gave a single, decisive nod. "You're right. We'll discuss staffing later." His implicit trust in her judgment was clear, a silent acknowledgment of her role as his partner in this facade.
Xia Yingying shot Mei Ling a triumphant smirk before turning back to Lu Quinzue with exaggerated sweetness.
"Mwah! Best hubby ever!" she chirped, throwing her arms around his neck like an overjoyed child given the keys to a candy store. The performance was flawless, dripping with saccharine affection meant for their audience.
Mei Ling forced a brittle smile. "Of course, Madam. Young Master, anything else before you retire?"
"No" Lu Quinzue clipped, steering Xia Yingying firmly towards their room, his hand possessive on her lower back.
Once inside, Xia Yingying wrenched free, the false cheer vanishing. She grabbed a spare mattress and blanket, marching towards the imposing leather couch. "Couch looks perfect."
"Take the bed," Lu Quinzue commanded, stripping off his jacket.
"Too tired to walk that far," she retorted, already arranging the bedding with pointed efficiency. She looked absurdly small curled up there, reminding him again of a stubborn kitten seeking its own space. He huffed a quiet, involuntary laugh.
Before she could protest, strong arms scooped her up. Xia Yingying gasped, instinctively clinging to his neck, her face pressed against the solid warmth of his chest. He carried her effortlessly to the vast bed, depositing her gently onto the decadently soft mattress. She sank into it with a contented sigh. "Hmm... like a cloud. How do you not sleep on this?"
Her sudden shift in focus startled him. She reached out, her fingertips grazing his temple with surprising tenderness.
"Your insomnia. The headaches that strike after midnight. The sleeping pills that barely touch it." It wasn't a question; it was a quiet statement of fact, unnerving in its accuracy.
He stared, caught off guard. Only his closest family knew the extent of his sleeplessness. "Yes," he admitted, the word rough.
"I can help," she offered, her gaze steady.
"Grandmother's treatment comes first."
"Grandmother isn't rushing back. You are here, suffering now." Her voice was soft but firm. "Let me help you first."
A beat of silence stretched. "...Okay" he conceded, the tension easing slightly.
They were suddenly close, the scent of her – lavender and something uniquely herbal, clean and calming – mingling with his own sandalwood and ozone aura. A profound drowsiness, alien and welcomed, washed over Lu Quinzue. His eyelids grew impossibly heavy, the constant hum of anxiety in his veins quieting for the first time in years. He was asleep almost before his head touched the pillow.
Xia Yingying watched him, the mask slipping. Her eyes, wide and shimmering with unshed tears, traced the strong lines of his face in the dim light. Her fingertips hovered over his cheekbone. "I tried," she whispered, the sound barely stirring the air. "I tried to stop feeling this... but it grows stronger every day." The confession was a raw, silent plea to the night. She didn't know when her gratitude and strategic alliance had twisted into this dangerous tenderness. Was it the ghost of their past connection? The phantom child she had carried and lost?
Memories surged, vivid and painful: the visible swell of her belly in the slums, the tentative hope her family offered, Tang Qing's ultimate betrayal witnessed in a heart-shattering scene, and the crushing emptiness after the miscarriage – the tiny life that had briefly mended her fractured world, then was ripped away. Her father had vowed to find the father once the baby was born; a DNA test planned for the ninth month. Had they known, even then, who it was? Before the accidents, the deaths, the silence from her brother... Before her world truly ended.
Sobs wracked her body, silent but violent, tears soaking the pillow. She was lost in the grief of two lifetimes.
Lu Quinzue stirred, the muffled sounds of distress piercing his unusually deep sleep. He opened his eyes to find Xia Yingying trembling beside him, her face buried, utterly vulnerable. A profound ache, sharper than any physical pain, clenched his chest. Without a word, he gathered her against him, pulling her into the shelter of his body. She stiffened for a second, then collapsed against his chest, her tears flowing freely now against his skin.
"Cry," he murmured into her hair, his voice gravelly with sleep and an emotion he couldn't name. "I'm here." His arms tightened around her, offering an anchor in her storm of remembered sorrow.
She cried harder, the dam fully broken. Was he only kind because of the contract? How would he have treated her if he'd known about the child? Those chance encounters during her pregnancy – meeting his gaze almost daily near her slum dwelling... Had they been coincidences? Or had he known? Why renovate her building first? Why arrange the scholarship abroad when she was expelled? Why watch silently, never approaching?
The pieces clicked with devastating force: He knew. He protected me. He knew about the baby. The revelation was a fresh wound. Why hadn't he claimed them? They could have been a family. The grief for that lost possibility mingled with the old pain, overwhelming her. Exhaustion finally claimed her, her tears subsiding into uneven breaths as she fell asleep against him.
Lu Quinzue held her, his own mind racing. He brushed a tear from her cheek with his thumb, his voice a low vow in the darkness. "Yingying." He pressed a feather-light kiss to her hairline before sleep reclaimed him.
***
Morning light streamed in. Xia Yingying awoke, startled to find herself still curled against Lu Quinzue's chest, his arm heavy around her waist. Heat flooded her face. Nothing had happened, but the intimacy was undeniable. She scrambled out of bed, snatched her uniform, and bolted for the bathroom.
"I'm leaving for school!" she called moments later, bursting out of the steam-filled room only to collide with a solid, warm wall of bare skin. Lu Quinzue stood there, towel slung low on his hips, water droplets glistening on his torso. Perfectly defined, lean muscle, just the right amount of strength. Her brain short-circuited.
Stumbling back, she flailed for balance. He reached out instinctively, but her hand shot out for support... and grasped the towel. It unraveled instantly, pooling at his feet.
Xia Yingying froze, her eyes wide, locked onto the very male, very exposed proof of his arousal. Mortification burned through her, hotter than the bathroom steam.
Lu Quinzue flushed crimson, rooted to the spot, acutely aware of her fixed gaze. A primal heat surged through him.
"Stop staring!" he finally choked out, his voice thick.
Xia Yingying snapped her gaze away, cheeks flaming. "I-I'm sorry about the towel!" she stammered, trying for nonchalance but failing spectacularly. "We're adults. Let's just... forget this happened?" The tremor in her voice betrayed her.
Lu Quinzue saw her panic, the redness creeping down her neck. A predatory glint replaced his embarrassment. "Adults, yes. Which means you take responsibility." He stepped closer, forcing her to look up. "You've wounded my masculine pride, Madam Lu. Deeply." His tone was mock-serious, but the intensity in his eyes was real.
"First," Xia Yingying snapped, finding her voice, "put some damn clothes on! Or retie the damn towel!" She pointedly looked at the ceiling.
Lu Quinzue chuckled, the sound low and warm. "Why so flustered? It's just anatomy."
"The rules," she hissed, backing towards the door, "say I stay out of your personal space!" She clutched her schoolbag like a shield.
A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face. "Ah, but the rules are silent on me dear wife." He took another step.
"Shameless!" she spat, whirling around and fleeing down the hallway, his laughter echoing behind her.
Outside the room, Mei Ling paused, having witnessed Xia Yingying's flushed, furious escape. Peeking into Lu Quinzue's room, she saw him standing by the bed, towel re-secured, an uncharacteristically relaxed, almost smug smile playing on his lips. Jealousy, sharp and acidic, twisted in Mei Ling's gut. 'What did that woman do to him?'
Lu Quinzue's smile vanished as he spotted her. "Close the door," he ordered, his voice dropping to an icy command.
Mei Ling flinched, hastily obeying, but not before a final, covetous glance at his retreating form.
***
Xia Yingying parked her sleek BMW in the school lot, the morning calm shattered by the storm brewing inside the building. Entering her classroom, she was met with a wall of hostile stares and hushed, venomous whispers. In the center stood Yu Miyo, facing down Tang Qing and a cluster of sneering students.
"Prove it's fake then, Miyo!" a girl taunted.
"Everyone saw it! Xia Yingying moaning like a cheap—"
"Shut up!" Yu Miyo cut her off, her usual cool composure frayed at the edges. "That video is obviously manipulated! I'll prove it. Put your money where your mouth is! A bet!"
Tang Qing stepped forward, oozing false hurt. "I'm in. 10,000 yuan says it's real. Yingying broke my heart... Hu Mingyou was the only one who understood my pain." He laid a hand dramatically over his chest.
"Deal," Yu Miyo spat, rolling her eyes. "Spare me the theatrics. 15,000 to me when it's fake."
Xia Yingying walked in, her expression serene despite the palpable animosity. "Sounds lively. Placing bets on my virtue?"
A student shoved a phone in her face, replaying the crude, distorted video. A girl's voice, altered but suggestive, moaned vulgarities.
Xia Yingying's stomach clenched, but a different heat rose in her cheeks – the memory of Lu Quinzue standing naked, magnificent, and utterly flustered just hours ago was far more vivid and embarrassing than this digital smear campaign. She flushed crimson, neck and ears burning.
"See! She's blushing! Guilty conscience!" someone crowed.
"Disgusting" another muttered.
Hu Mingyou slithered forward, her face a mask of faux concern. "Sister Xia... I defended you for so long. I can't believe you would stoop to this." Her words dripped poison, reigniting the crowd's condemnation.
"ENOUGH!" Yu Miyo's shout silenced the room. "You cowards believe a cheap edit over someone you know?"
"Support your slut friend all you want," a boy sneered. "She's obviously a pro."
Xia Yingying pulled out her phone. The video was everywhere. Social media was a cesspool:
"Wolf in sheep's clothing!"
"The REAL white lotus exposed!"
"Poor Lu Quinzue... tricked by a whore."
"How much for a night, sweetheart? Show me those moves!"
"Slutty gait confirmed it."
The crude comments were a gut punch, mirroring the vitriol she'd endured in her past life while pregnant and abandoned. Her heart fractured piece by piece, but a steely resolve hardened within her. 'Never again.'She wouldn't crumble. She would fight.
The classroom door swung open. Professor Leng stood there, his face grim, disappointment warring with a sliver of lingering faith. "Xia Yingying," he announced, his voice heavy.
"Principal Jones demands your presence. Immediately." The stern set of his jaw spoke volumes; he couldn't believe the allegations, but the evidence seemed damning. The walk to the principal's office would be another gauntlet.