WebNovels

Chapter 10 - Chapter 10 — Crossing the Threshold

A/N: Halfway through Arc 1. Thoughts please!

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The Gu mansion loomed ahead like something out of an imperial drama: sweeping eaves, carved stone lions, the whole we're-richer-than-you aesthetic. The car rolled to a stop in front of double lacquered doors that probably cost more than the entire Shen family's ancestral house.

I stared up and resisted the urge to whistle. So this is what generational wealth buys. Forget mansions—this is a small kingdom.

Hanchuan stepped out first, suit unruffled despite the hour-long drive. Instead of striding ahead, he circled to my side and opened my door himself, ignoring the waiting driver. His gaze flicked over me once—steady, unreadable—but there was a faint courtesy in the gesture, deliberate and unhurried.

I couldn't help be react with some surprise. Wow Gu Hanchuan. Just married and already being considerate of your wife. Didn't think this cold CEO had it in him.

We climbed the low steps together. He adjusted his pace to match mine by a half stride.

Just these few small considerations he has taken already shows that he has an incredibly high EQ. He must've courted many girls like this to reach this level of natural smoothness.

"Ahem." I slight cough interrupted my musings.

"Is something wrong?" I asked Hanchuan who had been giving me an odd look.

He stared at me a moment longer before saying, "Believe it or not, besides blind dates set up by my family, I've never actually been in a relationship."

I stared back at him like he was some sort of alien and could only give an unimpressed, "Oh, I see."

"Is that all you have to say?" He asked me.

"What else?" I shot back.

Hah! As if I'd believe a word you just said. What type of rich handsome billionaire CEO hasn't been around the block a few times.

Hanchuan only let out a soft sigh of something that sounded like exasperation and continued walked forward without speaking.

The night air was cooler here, jasmine slipping in under the heavy doors. Somewhere inside, a piano traced a careful arpeggio—warm-up scales, not performance.

Of course they have a live musician in-house. Do the Gus also employ someone to narrate their every move? "Behold, Young Master Hanchuan walks!"

He slightly stumbled on one of the steps and before I could snark at his out of character clumsiness, the doors to the mansion swung open. A small group waited in the grand foyer, and I realized immediately this wasn't staff—it was the family.

At the center stood the Gu grandmother—Wang Shufen—in jade-green silk, silver hair and soldier-straight spine. Her gaze swept over me with cool precision that could peel lacquer off a screen.

To her right, the grandfather—Gu Jianye—stood like a carved pillar, hands clasped loosely behind his back. Deep lines at his brow, posture radiating discipline rather than age.

Beside them, the parents: Gu Chengyuan, stern in a perfectly cut dark suit; and Su Yaqin, elegant and soft-eyed, the kind of woman whose smile felt like a shawl in winter.

And slightly ahead of all of them, practically vibrating, was someone I never expected to see here. Gu Qingwan. She waved both hands the instant she saw me, a wide grin breaking across her face like sunrise.

"Sister Yue!"

I blinked. Excuse me, when did I adopt another sibling? Did I miss a memo and a family registry stamp?

From the side, Hanchuan's brow ticked up a fraction.

"Qingwan, when did you meet?" he said, gentle warning embedded in the question.

She ignored him, bouncing forward to seize my hand. "Welcome," she said, cheeks dimpling. There was nothing surprised in her look about gaining a sudden sister-in-law—only gleeful anticipation.

Introductions moved with the unhurried grace of an old family: names I already knew from rumors given weight by presence. Before long came the long dreaded interview/interrogation round began.

The grandfather inclined his head, gaze steady. "The composure is a very valuable skill to have," he said, voice low and gravelly. He watched me a beat longer than necessary, as if measuring whether it was a learned or innate skill.

Good news, sir. It's both. My only marketable skill left.

The grandmother's turn came with a razor's edge. "Our family values dignity. Now that you are a part of this family, we expect you to hold your head high and uphold our values," Wang Shufen said, eyes narrowing—not cruel, but probing, weighing whether I could meet her expectations or not.

Ah yes, the interview round: can the fake heiress pass the test? Place your bets.

Her fingers paused on the jade ring at her hand. For the smallest moment, the sharpness in her gaze thinned into surprise—like a sound had passed through her that the room hadn't made.

Gu Chengyuan, the father, shifted almost imperceptibly, eyes flicking to my mouth then away, as if checking whether he'd mistakenly heard me speak.

Su Yaqin stepped in, taking my hand between both of hers. "You must be tired, child," she said. Her voice was soft as steamed milk. She hesitated a breath—lips parting, as though to ask something else—then squeezed my fingers and let it go. "Come in. Warm yourself first."

I couldn't help but feel taken aback by her sudden warmth. In my entire nineteen years of existence in the Shen residence, my own 'mother' barely gave me a glance.

Careful Madam Gu. Too much warmth might just make me faint from shear emotional overload. So different from the Shen family's indifference towards me.

Across from me, Hanchuan's lashes lowered, then lifted again. His thumb pressed once against the polished armrest of his composure.

They led us into the main hall, all lacquered screens and a chandelier that rained quiet gold over everything. We sat, obeying the gentle choreography of an old house.

"Here, have some tea," Su Yaqin said, pouring it herself instead of letting the servants do it.

I took the cup with both hands, feeling slightly unused to such caring hospitality. Why is this making me more emotional than being kicked out of the Shen family? Stupid oolong. Weaponized hospitality.

A breath of laughter vanished into Hanchuan's throat, so soft it could've been the air conditioning.

The questions began—softly at first. "How are your studies?" the grandmother asked, tone polite but testing. "I've been told you plan to dual major in Music and Business."

The reminder of school brought a dark look over my face.

Studies? Oh yes, the degree I can no longer afford thanks to being disowned. Let's all pretend I'm still a respectable scholar instead of the society reject of the week.

"That is correct," I replied, trying to cover my dissonance.

The grandmother's teacup stilled halfway. The grandfather's shoulders straightened, gaze sealing on me with quiet intensity. Su Yaqin inhaled softly and covered it with a deeper smile, sliding a plate of almond cookies toward me like a shield.

Qingwan didn't look surprised. She looked delighted. "See?" she stage-whispered to the elders, eyes sparkling. "I told you she is amazing?"

I stared at her. Amazing? All I said is that I'm dual majoring. This family's standards are very weird.

"Business," Gu Chengyuan said, folding his hands. He sounded like a man shifting into a familiar room. Most likely because this topic is his bread and butter. "Which track?"

"Analytics," I answered aloud. "Data modeling and Forecasting."

And bullseye spreadsheets. Because if my life collapses again, at least I can make a chart about it.

A faint, involuntary sound escaped Su Yaqin—half giggle, half cough—before she lifted her cup delicately, eyes glimmering. The grandfather's mouth tugged, as if fighting a chuckle he'd deny under oath. Gu Chengyuan gave a single, approving nod—the smallest shift, but it landed like a stamp: competent.

"Forecasting," he repeated. "What would you model first, given recent luxury spending volatility on the waterfront?"

I set my cup down, heartbeat evening into something useful. A topic I am naturally familiar with due to my past life experiences. "Seasonality and sentiment. Tourist spikes, influencer-driven demand, and weather-linked foot traffic. But I'd start by scrubbing the data—the waterfront suffers from duplicated merchant IDs and seasonal pop-ups skewing the baseline. Clean first, model second."

And bribe the bubble tea gods. Sugar is obviously a predictive variable.

Across from me, Hanchuan's gaze held mine, a quiet heat though his face remained calm. The grandfather gave a quiet "mn," pleased; the grandmother's eyes softened a breath. And there it was—that subtle pivot I recognized from boardrooms: evaluation becoming interest; interest becoming ownership and acceptance.

They were still bewildered by the… other unexplainable cicumstance. But warmth began layering itself over the bewilderment, thin and real.

Conversation continued. "Qinqwan told you play the violin," Wang Shufen said.

I nodded. "Piano too."

"I'd love to hear you play some time," she responded with a genuine smile. "I know Hanchuan has dabbled and little Qingwan has been taking lessons recently. She's only one year younger than you and I'm sure would love to learn from your experience."

Qinwan brightened up at this and nodded along enthusiastically in agreement.

It was impossible to say no to such a bright and innocent face, so I reflexively agreed.

Not much later, a white-haired steward padded in with a lacquered box. The grandmother lifted the lid and drew out a cool gleam of green: a jade bangle, old stone with a soft glow, neither flashy nor timid.

"It's a tradition in our family to gift a jade bangle to the younger generating. For luck," she said simply. "And for face. Ours and yours."

My fingers went thoughtlessly reverent. She slid the bangle onto my wrist herself. It fit as though it had been waiting there. The grandfather chuckled under his breath, pleased; a hum that said: we have given, we have claimed, we have announced.

Careful, Yue. Don't cry over jewelry. You'll fog the stone and become a legend for all the wrong reasons.

Su Yaqin reached to steady my hand, thumb brushing my knuckles once. "Wear it when you like," she said. "Not because we gave it to you."

Dangerous, dangerous woman. Someone should regulate mothers like you. Neglected daughters like me can't help but feel jealous.

Qingwan, perched on the arm of a chair, was glowing with the satisfaction of a girl whose favorite show had delivered a perfect twist. She didn't interrupt. She didn't tease. She just watched as the shift took hold in the room—the elders' first bewilderment easing into something smugly private. A family secret gathering itself like silk.

Through it all, Hanchuan said almost nothing. But he watched me carefully. Ready to step in the moment I seemed even the slightest bit overwhelmed. When conversation tilted toward me, he angled his body in quiet support; when questioned too sharply, his gaze slid to the offender and the pressure eased like magic.

Subtle. Infuriatingly good at it. If he keeps doing that, I might actually start believing in the safety he had promised.

His restlessly tapping fingers stilled on the armrest for a beat. Then resumed.

When the tea cooled and the chandelier glow softened, the grandmother set down her cup. "Yue," she said, brisk but not unkind, "you will rest here tonight. Tomorrow, we will speak more."

I stood, smoothing my skirt. "Thank you."

Don't get comfortable. You're only here because of him. You know from experience that a families 'care' can turn as quickly as the tides.

The steward led me toward the guest wing. I glanced back once. The Gu family remained where they were: grandmother sharp-eyed but no longer testing, grandfather amused in that quiet elder way, father thoughtful, mother warmly protective, Qingwan beaming like she'd just installed a new app called Sister.

And Hanchuan—hands in his pockets now, tie immaculate, gaze steady—watched until I disappeared around the screen. The faintest curve touched his mouth and was gone, leaving only the impression of a promise he hadn't spoken.

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A/N: My longest chapter yet. Over 2k words. Woopie.

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