[FENG YU POV – ]
It took Feng Yu three weeks to engineer proximity to Su Yishui.
It took three hours to learn proximity meant nothing without power.
Not friendship yet—that required trust neither of them could afford to give quickly. But proximity. The kind that looked accidental but was meticulously calculated. Same study spots in the library. Same optional lectures. The same cafe where Su Yishui sometimes went alone, ordering tea he barely drank while working through assignments that seemed to cause him more stress than his perfect grades suggested.
Feng Yu learned to time his arrivals. To occupy adjacent spaces without intruding. To occasionally offer small observations—a correction on a finance formula, a recommendation for a research database—that were helpful enough to be remembered but not so helpful that they created an obligation.
It was working. Slowly. Su Yishui had started nodding acknowledgment when Feng Yu appeared. Had even exchanged brief pleasantries twice.
But Feng Yu wanted more than pleasantries.
He wanted to understand what made Su Yishui perform compliance so perfectly. Wanted to see what existed underneath the trained responses and careful neutrality.
The opportunity came from a source he had t anticipated: a campus job posting for catering staff at a private university event. The pay was embarrassingly low, but it offered something more valuable—access to spaces that scholarship students weren't normally permitted.
Feng Yu submitted his application the same day.
The event was held in the university's Heritage Hall—a building so old and expensive it had its own security system and cleaning crew. The kind of place where even the staff were vetted. Where cameras recorded everything. Where nothing happened that someone didn't want recorded.
Perfect for people who need to discuss matters that can't exist in writing.
Feng Yu wore the provided uniform—black slacks, white shirt, black vest—and received his instructions with the other catering staff. Serve drinks. Circulate with appetizers. Don't speak unless spoken to. Don't make eye contact. Be invisible.
He excelled at invisibility.
The reception hall glittered with old money and older power. Crystal chandeliers, marble floors, artwork that cost more than Feng Yu's entire education. Clusters of perfectly dressed people holding wine glasses and conducting conversations that looked casual but weren't.
Feng Yu recognized several faces from campus—heirs and heiresses playing at student life while their parents discussed the real business of running Jinling.
He spotted Su Yishui near the east windows, standing beside two people who could only be his parents. The resemblance was clear—same bone structure, same careful posture, same way of holding themselves like people accustomed to being watched.
The difference was in the eyes. Yishui's own held exhaustion. His parents own held calculation.
Mr. Su was tall, silver-haired, and expensively tailored. His handshake with another guest looked warm, but his eyes stayed calculating. Every gesture measured for political impact.
Mrs. Su was elegant in the way museum pieces were elegant—beautiful, untouchable, preserved in perfection. She touched her son's arm periodically as she spoke to other guests, each touch looking affectionate but carrying the weight of expectation.
And Su Yishui stood between them like a possession they were displaying—or an asset they were marketing.
Smiling when appropriate. Nodding at introductions. Performing his role with the same tired perfection, Feng Yu had observed in the library.
Feng Yu circulated with his tray of champagne, keeping to the periphery, watching.
"—very pleased with his progress," Mrs. Su was saying to an older couple, whom Feng Yu didn't recognize. Her hand rested on Su Yishui's shoulder. "Top of his class, naturally. Strong prospects for graduate programs abroad, though we're hoping he ll choose to stay in Jinling for his father's work."
The way she said we're hoping made it clear there was no hope involved. Just expectation disguised as preference.
"And the Zhou alliance?" the older woman asked quietly, glancing around to ensure privacy. "That's still moving forward?"
Feng Yu's attention sharpened. He adjusted his position slightly, angling closer while pretending to offer champagne to a nearby group.
"We're finalizing terms," Mr. Su replied, his tone dropping to match the confidential nature of the question. "Zhou Meng is an excellent match. Strong political connections, compatible temperament, and the families have aligned interests."
Match.
The word settled in Feng Yu's chest like lead. Not a friend. Not a colleague. Match.
Marriage.
They were discussing marriage as if it were a corporate merger.
"Yishui is amenable?" the older man asked, looking at Su Yishui with the expression of someone evaluating livestock.
"He understands the necessity," Mrs. Su said smoothly. "Don't you, darling?" Her fingers tightened fractionally on his shoulder. Not enough for observers to notice. Enough for him to feel them.
Su Yishui's smile didn't change. "Of course, Mother."
But Feng Yu saw his left hand, hidden from the group's view, tap twice against his thigh. The tell Feng Yu had catalogued weeks ago. The one that meant Su Yishui was managing something he didn't want to feel.
"The Zhou family is eager to move forward," Mr. Su continued. "Particularly given the recent... complications with their shipping oversight contracts. An alliance with the Su family provides them with the financial infrastructure they currently lack. And we benefit from their political leverage on the administrative boards."
The older woman nodded knowingly. "Money and power. The oldest marriage contract."
"The only one that matters in Jinling," Mrs. Su agreed.
Feng Yu felt something cold settle in his stomach. This wasn't just about politics or business. This was calculation at a level he'd understood theoretically but never witnessed so nakedly. They were trading their son like currency, and speaking about it in front of him as if his consent was not even a relevant factor.
"What are you thinking?" the older man asked.
"After graduation," Mr. Su said. "Let them both finish their education. Build the appearance of independent choice." His mouth curved slightly. "Though naturally, all parties understand the terms are already settled."
"Smart," the older woman approved. "Give them the illusion of agency. Makes the transition smoother."
Su Yishui stood perfectly still through this entire exchange, his expression pleasant and empty. Only someone watching closely would notice the slight tension in his jaw, the way his breathing had gone carefully shallow.
Feng Yu wanted to drop his tray and walk over there. Wanted to say something, do something, shatter this civil discussion of Su Yishui's future as if he were an asset being allocated.
But he was invisible. Powerless. A scholarship student in a catering uniform with no leverage, no influence, no ability to interfere in the machinations of families who treated people as resources.
The group shifted, moving toward other conversations, and Feng Yu was forced to circulate away before his presence attracted attention.
He spent the next hour moving through the reception in a daze, his mind replaying what he'd heard. Not just the marriage arrangement—that was disturbing but not surprising in these circles. It was the casual cruelty of discussing it in front of Su Yishui as if his feelings were so irrelevant they didn't need to be considered.
Near the end of the evening, Feng Yu found himself near the coat room, waiting with other staff to assist with departures. The hallway was quieter here, away from the main reception. He heard voices approaching—Mr. And Mrs. Su, speaking in low tones that carried an edge the public conversation hadn't held.
"—still concerned about loose threads," Mr. Su was saying. "The Chen family knows too much about the warehouse restructuring. If they talk—"
"They won't talk." Mrs. Su's voice was ice. "We've ensured their compliance through the daughter's university admission. They understand that exposure damages everyone."
Feng Yu froze, pretending to adjust the coat rack while his ears strained to catch every word.
"And the Wei Syndicate payment?" Mr. Su asked.
"Cleared through the usual channels. Shell corporations, offshore routing. The university foundation provides excellent cover for moving capital."
"And Yishui's position on the foundation board next year?"
"Already arranged. The boy doesn't even know he's signing off on his own family's laundering. Perfect insulation."
She paused. "The Zhou alliance helps here, too. Their political oversight means fewer audits."
"Which is why we can't afford any complications with Yishui."
"There won't be complications." Mrs. Su's certainty was absolute. "He's been raised for exactly this purpose. Obedient, presentable, intelligent enough to be useful but not rebellious enough to cause problems."
The way she described her own son—like a product they'd manufactured to specification—made Feng Yu's hands clench around the coat he was holding.
"Still," Mr. Su said, "keep an eye on his social connections. Make sure he's not forming attachments that could complicate the Zhou arrangement. The last thing we need is romantic sentiment interfering with necessity."
"He won't. He knows his duty." Mrs. Su sounded utterly confident.
Their footsteps faded as they moved back toward the reception hall.
Feng Yu stood in the dim hallway, barely breathing, his mind arranging pieces of a picture he'd been too naive to see clearly before.
The Su family was" just wealthy and connected. They were actively criminal, money laundering through the university foundation, using their son's marriage to secure political protection for illegal operations. And they'd raised Su Yishui specifically to be compliant enough to serve their purposes without question.
Everything about Su Yishui's trained obedience suddenly made horrifying sense. The way he de...escalated conflicts. The way he performed perfection. The exhaustion Feng Yu had glimpsed underneath the mask.
He'd been conditioned since childhood to be exactly what his parents needed: beautiful, obedient, and useful.
And now they were selling him to the Zhou family to protect their criminal enterprise.
The realization felt like drowning. Su Yishui had" been taught obedience as a social skill. He'd been conditioned as a tool—shaped deliberately, precisely, to serve functions he probably didn't even recognize. Every smile, every de...escalation, every moment of trained compliance was engineering, not personality.
And Feng Yu had fallen in love with a mechanism his parents had built.
Feng Yu had been planning to get close to Su Yishui carefully, slowly, to build something that looked like friendship or maybe more. He'd been thinking like a poor student trying to connect with someone above his station—cautiously, hopefully, naively.
But this wasn't about social class differences or romantic possibilities.
This was about power.
The Su family had absolute power over their son. The Zhou family would acquire him through marriage. And Su Yishui, for all his intelligence and carefully trained compliance, had no leverage to refuse any of it.
And Feng Yu—scholarship student, invisible observer, nobody who mattered—had even less.
The thought crystallized with brutal clarity: Love without power is suicide.
Whatever feelings Feng Yu was developing for Su Yishui—and he could admit now they were feelings, dangerous and growing—were completely irrelevant. Worse than irrelevant. They were weaknesses that would destroy him if he acted on them.
Because even if Su Yishui felt something in return, even if they somehow found a connection in the brief spaces between parental surveillance and political arrangement, it would"t matter.
Feelings didn't protect anyone in Jinling.
Power did.
And Feng Yu had none.
He finished his shift mechanically, collected his payment, and left Heritage Hall with the other catering staff. But his mind was elsewhere, turning over the problem from every angle.
He couldn't save Su Yishui. Couldn't offer him protection or escape or any alternative to the future his parents had engineered. Couldn't even tell him what he'd overheard without exposing himself as someone who"d been listening to conversations he had no right to hear.
But he also couldn't stop wanting to get close. Couldn't ignore the pull he felt toward Su Yishui's exhausted perfection and hidden tells.
Feng Yu walked back to his scholarship housing through Jinling's glittering streets, past buildings that represented generations of accumulated wealth and carefully maintained influence.
The city had never looked so beautiful.
Or so cruel.
And somewhere in its heart, Su Yishui was going home to parents who saw him as currency, preparing for a future he'd been taught not to resist.
Feng Yu decided in that moment, walking alone through streets he didn't belong in.
He would get close to Su Yishui anyway.
Even without power.
Even without hope.
Even knowing exactly how this would end.
Because the alternative—invisibility and safety—suddenly felt worse than destruction.
Love without power is suicide, he thought.
But maybe some things were worth dying for.
Even if he was the only one who ended up dead.
He didn't know yet that survival would require becoming something worse than death.