The woman's question hung in the air, a silken, possessive thread. Did you truly forget about our future together?
The words were a key turning in the lock of a cage Aylin hadn't realized she was in. The Author's final, most crucial rule slammed into her with the force of a physical blow: You must maintain the core relationships... If you fail to maintain this relationship... you fail the mission. Your soul will be scattered.
This beautiful, demanding stranger was not just an interruption. She was the warden. She was the living embodiment of the single rule that held the threat of annihilation over her head. Panic, cold and absolute, coiled in her gut. She had to act. She had to perform.
As the woman spoke, a name finally sparked from the cold, implanted memories the Author had provided. Willow Chen. The file was a dossier on her new jailer: Heiress to the vast Chen Consolidated corporate empire. The engagement was a merger, a strategic alliance between two powerful families. The original Aylin Moon respected Willow's ambition but chafed under her suffocating, possessive nature. It was a business deal, wrapped in the guise of a romance. A loveless, gilded cage.
Lan Yue, the celestial saint in the borrowed skin of a corporate director, took a subtle, deliberate step forward, closing the space that she instinctively wanted to create. The implanted memories of Aylin Moon provided a blueprint for placating an annoyed Willow, but her own ancient instincts screamed a clearer truth: when faced with a predator, you do not show weakness. You meet their display of power with one of your own.
She forced a slow, weary smile onto her lips, a perfect imitation of a stressed but loving partner. "Forget?" she said, her voice a low, intimate murmur that was a masterpiece of falsehood. "No, my dear. I've just been drowning in numbers. Forgive my distraction."
Before Willow could respond, Aylin made her move. It was the most difficult physical act she had performed since the battle that had ended her world. She lifted her hand and placed it gently, possessively, on Willow's waist, drawing her a fraction closer. The fabric of Willow's dress was expensive and cool beneath her palm. The touch felt like a violation, a blasphemy against her own soul, but she held it steady, letting her thumb trace a small, placating circle. Then, she leaned in and pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to Willow's cheek. Her lips were cold. The scent of Willow's perfume a sharp, aggressive floral so unlike Lian's warm, earthy scent of plum blossoms and rain was a dizzying assault on her senses.
It was a flawless performance.
Willow Chen was visibly taken aback. The gesture was uncharacteristically gentle and assertive for the usually stressed and distant Aylin. A flicker of surprise, followed by a wave of smug satisfaction, crossed her features. This was the correct response. This was the apology she was owed.
"Well," Willow said, her tone softening fractionally. "As long as you haven't forgotten what's important."
Aylin released her, stepping back to create a professional distance. "Of course not, Willow," she said, her voice a distant, chilly echo of the person she was pretending to be. "I have simply been… preoccupied with a budgetary crisis. My apologies for not returning your messages."
Willow's perfectly sculpted lips thinned. She glided past Aylin and ran a dismissive hand over the back of Aylin's desk chair. "A crisis? You are always in a crisis, Aylin. That is precisely why this merger is so important. It will bring the stability your… flighty enterprise so desperately needs."
As she spoke, a profound, unsettling dissonance churned within Lan Yue's soul.
Her face, she thought, her gaze tracing the elegant line of Willow's jaw, the high cheekbones. It is an echo of Lian's. A colder, darker reflection, but the resemblance is so strong it aches. She is a ghost at a feast.
But then Willow continued, her voice full of an unshakeable, proprietary certainty. "Our duty is to our families. This union will secure our futures. It is time you stopped fighting it and accepted the path that has been laid out for you."
But her words… Lan Yue's mind recoiled. This suffocating sense of righteousness, this absolute belief that she knows what is best for me, this assumption of a shared destiny already decided by a higher authority… it is the very voice of Wei Chen.
The confusion was a physical thing, a wave of vertigo that made the room tilt. She was looking at a woman who wore the face of her soulmate but who spoke with the voice of her former, obsessive keeper. This was a unique, divine torture, crafted just for her by a bored, cruel god.
Willow turned her sharp, obsidian gaze back to Aylin. "Our fathers are expecting us at the Crestview Club at seven. Don't be late. This dinner is to finalize the contracts." She picked up the "Best Use of Negative Space" award, examining it with a critical eye. "And do try to look pleased, darling. You know how much is riding on this. Chen Consolidated does not appreciate partners who seem… ambivalent. It would be a terrible shame if your firm's recent financial troubles were to become public knowledge."
The veiled threat was the final bar locking her into the cage. But Lan Yue had spent a decade learning to despise her cage.
"My firm's stability is not your concern, Willow," she said, her voice suddenly as cold and clear as ice. "And I am well aware of my obligations. I will be there." She moved with a silent, deliberate grace back to her desk, sitting in her chair. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have a new Assistant Director to brief."
It was a clear, absolute dismissal. Willow was taken aback by the newfound, icy command. A flicker of something new intrigue, perhaps even respect flashed in her dark eyes.
She gave a small, sharp smile. "Don't keep me waiting, darling," she purred, and with a final, lingering look, she swept out of the office.
Aylin was left alone, her mind reeling. She had survived her first test. She had performed the required intimacy, but the cost was a profound sense of self betrayal. And the reward was a dinner she was already dreading.
The Crestview Club was a cathedral of old money and quiet, suffocating power. The air was heavy with the scent of polished leather and unspoken contracts, the silence broken only by the hushed murmur of voices and the discreet, heavy clink of silver on porcelain. It was, Aylin thought with a surge of profound, weary recognition, exactly like the high council chambers of a major cultivation sect, where the Dao was the bottom line, and souls were traded as assets.
Willow was waiting in the grand foyer, a vision of cold, perfect beauty in a black evening gown. "You're late," she said, a silken reprimand. She took Aylin's arm, her grip less a lover's touch and more the claiming of a prized asset.
She led Aylin to a private dining room where their families were assembled. The two patriarchs, Mr. Chen and the man her memories identified as her "father," Mr. Moon, sat like twin emperors at the head of the table. Marcus Chen was a hawk, his eyes sharp and predatory. Richard Moon was a weasel, his gaze shifting and eager to please his more powerful counterpart.
The dinner that followed was one of the most agonizing experiences of Lan Yue's long life. It was an interrogation disguised as a meal. Every polite question was a probe, every statement a declaration of control. Aylin performed her role with the precision of a master actress, her every move a calculated lie.
When they arrived at the table, she gracefully withdrew Willow's chair, waiting for her to be seated before taking her own place. The small act of chivalry earned an approving nod from Mr. Chen and a surprised, pleased smile from Willow. It was a perfect piece of theater.
But the most unsettling part, the thing that made her very soul feel a deep, crawling sense of wrongness, was Willow. She looked so much like Lian. The way she held her wine glass, the elegant curve of her neck, the sharp intelligence in her dark eyes every glance was a fresh stab of grief. But her words, her very presence, were a perfect, chilling reincarnation of Wei Chen.
"Aylin has been pushing herself too hard at that little firm of hers," Willow announced to the table, placing a cool hand on Aylin's knee beneath the tablecloth. Aylin's entire body went rigid, but she forced a placid smile. "This merger will be a relief for her. She can finally step back and focus on more important things. Our wedding, our home."
"A wise decision," Marcus Chen rumbled, his eyes fixed on Aylin. "A family requires a strong foundation. A woman's place is ensuring that foundation is stable, not chasing fleeting creative projects."
Every word was a suffocating blanket of proprietary "care." Every decision was made on her behalf, for her own good. Willow, like Wei Chen before her, believed she knew what was best for her, that their shared future was a logical, foregone conclusion, and that Aylin's own feelings were merely a temporary inconvenience to be managed. She was looking at the face of her soulmate and hearing the voice of her jailer, while the Author's threat of annihilation hummed beneath the surface of her thoughts.
"So we are agreed," Mr. Chen said finally, looking at Aylin's father with a triumphant finality. "Once the papers are signed, the Lunar Designs brand will be fully absorbed under the Chen Consolidated umbrella within the first fiscal year. A clean, efficient merger. We'll liquidate the name and integrate the staff. It's the most profitable path."
Aylin had been silent for the entire meal, a beautiful, placid doll at Willow's side, enduring the condescension and the unwanted touches with a celestial calm. But those words absorb, liquidate, erase the casual talk of destroying the identity of her new domain, finally broke her composure. It was one thing to be caged, it was another to have the cage itself dismantled for scrap.
"No."
The word was quiet, but it landed on the silent, expectant table with the force of a thunderclap. All four of them froze, turning to stare at her as if a piece of the decor had just spoken. Willow's hand tightened on her knee, a silent warning.
Aylin gently removed Willow's hand, placing it on the table. She then placed her own napkin down, her movements deliberate and serene. She looked directly at the two powerful men who were deciding her fate.
"Lunar Designs," she said, her voice no longer the clipped, stressed tone of Aylin Moon, but the calm, unshakable authority of Saint Yue, "will remain an independent subsidiary. Its creative integrity, and my authority over it, will not be compromised."
Richard Moon paled. "Aylin, now is not the time "
"Furthermore," she continued, her gaze shifting to Marcus Chen, "you are not acquiring my firm for its staff or its office space. You are acquiring it for its brand, its reputation, and its creative vision all of which I have built. To absorb and liquidate the brand is to destroy the very asset you seek to acquire. From a purely financial perspective, it would be… inefficient."
She had turned their own ruthless logic against them, couching her rebellion in the only language they understood: profit and loss.
The patriarchs stared, utterly flabbergasted. They had been prepared for arguments over percentages and timelines, not this quiet, absolute declaration of war from the one person they considered a mere asset in the transaction.
Willow looked at her fiancée, at the strange, new light of command in her eyes, the unyielding steel in her spine. This was not the frantic, pliable woman she was engaged to. This was someone else entirely. And it was, she had to admit with a sudden, dangerous thrill, far more interesting.
Aylin stood up, placing her hand on the back of her chair. "Thank you for a lovely dinner, gentlemen," she said, her voice cool and dismissive. "You know my terms. They are non negotiable. I have a great deal of work to prepare for in the morning. Willow," she gave her stunned fiancée a polite, distant nod, "I will see myself out."
She turned and walked out of the room without a backward glance, leaving behind a scene of utter, sputtering chaos. She had survived the dinner. She had played the part of the lover, and in doing so, had earned the right to play the queen. She was learning the rules of her cage.
Her heart ached with a new, desperate urgency. She had to find Lian. The real Lian. The quiet, stubborn, brilliant soul she had seen in a terrified accountant's eyes. That was the only merger that mattered.