Soft steps entered from the back garden. They sounded like the pitter-patter of rain, gentle, rhythmic, almost melodic. Someone had arrived, and with them came the sudden scent of petrichor, fresh and earthy, flooding the living hall. It was mesmerizing.
Madam Xia smiled. "A-Yan, you're back."
"Mm," came a soft reply, quiet and breathy, like the first mewl of a newborn kitten.
Mo Yichen felt a strange itch inside him.
"A-Yan, come and greet the guests," Mr. Xia called out.
She walked into the front hall, her hands carrying sprigs of thyme and rosemary. "Hello," she greeted politely.
Mo Yichen finally looked up from his cup and was stunned.
There stood a young woman, dressed simply in white. Her gown flowed loosely from her neck down to her ankles, ethereal and serene. She had the kind of face that lingered in memory, an oval canvas of symmetry and calm, with wide, luminous eyes that tilted ever so slightly upwards. Under soft light, they gleamed with a deep amber shade, flecks of gold dancing in their depths.
Her brows were bold yet elegant, arching like the wings of a bird mid-flight. Her skin glowed like sun-kissed porcelain, and her lips, full, tender, unadorned, needed no rouge. With a tall, willowy frame and long obsidian hair cascading down her back, she moved with a quiet grace. She was poetry in motion.
Mo Yichen inhaled slowly, looking at her again. There was something in her eyes, deep, deadly, oceanic. He found himself momentarily lost in those amber depths. One word surfaced in his mind: Rare. And then another: Beautiful.
"This is our daughter, our heart, Xia Ruyan," Mr. Xia introduced warmly. "And A-Yan, this is Grandpa Mo, your grandfather's best friend, and his grandson, Mo Yichen. CEO of Mo Corporation"
She bowed slightly. "Grandpa Mo. CEO Mo."
That was all. Her eyes did not linger on him, not even for a moment, and something inside Mo Yichen burned with irritation. It was a greeting born out of duty. Nothing more. No spark, no smile, not even curiosity.
He raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself.
"Good, good, good! What an obedient little girl," Old Master Mo said with a boisterous laugh.
"A-Yan, you should go freshen up. We'll have lunch soon," her mother said.
She nodded and ascended the staircase, her steps light and unhurried.
"I'll go check the lunch preparations," Madam Xia said as she stood and left the room.
"Jingxuan," Old Master Mo turned to Mr. Xia, "your father must have told you why we're here today, right?"
"Yes, he informed me," Mr. Xia replied calmly, glancing at Mo Yichen, who looked between the two men with a mixture of confusion and dawning realization.
"Mr. Xia, may I speak with my grandfather for a moment?" Mo Yichen interrupted suddenly.
Mr. Xia nodded and stepped out to help his wife.
"Grandpa, what is this about?" Yichen asked, already knowing the answer.
"I want you to get married. Settle down. Have a life outside your boardrooms and offices," Grandpa replied matter-of-factly.
"I only came because you were being stubborn. Don't push me," Yichen said, gritting his teeth.
"Why not? In a few months, you'll be thirty. Then who will marry you? I brought you here to see for yourself. Haven't you seen them? Good family, good daughter. Tell me honestly, have you ever seen anyone as beautiful as her? If you can marry her, then it must be your good karma from past lives to have a wife like her."
"I have my reasons and responsibilities. I can't allow any random person to be part of my life," he said firmly.
"Responsibilities?" Grandpa scoffed. "Call it what it is, a cage. A burden!"
Yichen had no retort. The silence hung thick between them.
Just then, the Xia couple returned and invited them to lunch.
As they walked to the dining table, Yichen paused and said, "I need to wash my hands." He turned just in time to see Ruyan reenter the hall.
"A-Yan, can you show Yichen to the restroom, please?" her mother asked gently.
She nodded without expression, and he followed her without a word.
She opened the restroom door and stood outside.
"You'd better refuse your family," he said coldly, not meeting her eyes.
She, who had been about to turn, froze and then looked at him directly. Her glass-like eyes locked with his, and he fell silent again. There was something calm and cutting in her gaze.
"What are you saying?" her eyes seemed to ask without words. The silence lingered for a moment.
"Ha," he scoffed. "So, you don't know? Or is this your little scheme? I know, women like you are always trying to trap a rich man. Know your place."
He spoke with rage, but something in him whispered that he would regret it.
She raised an eyebrow, and her expression didn't flinch.
"Seems like you're surrounded by women like that," she said coolly. "Who? Your mother?"
It was a sharp and swift blow. Without hesitation, she left.
He stood stunned, her words echoing through the hallway. She had insulted him and his mother in one breath, without even blinking. Just a little girl… how dare she?
This girl, a nobody, dared to challenge him. Even seasoned tycoons lowered their eyes in his presence, but this slight and unreadable woman had looked straight into his soul and thrown him into ice.
With a sharp tug on his tie, he turned away, anger crackling beneath the surface. His eyes darkened like an oncoming storm.
He washed his hands in silence and returned to the dining room, where the others had already gathered. His grandfather was deep in conversation, laughing boisterously with Mr. Xia. But Mo Yichen barely touched his food.
He kept stealing glances at her.
And she, damn her, was eating as if nothing had happened, calm and collected, not even sparing him a glance.
But something peculiar caught his eye. She was only eating salad.
Ah, so that's it. One of those women who are obsessed with appearances, sculpting their bodies like showpieces. Who is she trying to impress?
After the meal, they all moved to the back patio. The late afternoon sun bathed the space in gold. Xia Ruyan returned carrying a beautifully arranged fruit platter.
"Baba," she said, her voice even. "I need to talk to you."
"Right now?" her father asked gently. He had a sinking feeling he already knew what she would say.
Mo Yichen raised an eyebrow, curious.
"I won't marry," she said. Clearly. Loud enough for everyone to hear.
Silence fell.
Even Mo Yichen was left speechless.
"Sweetheart, let's talk inside," her father said, a note of worry in his voice. He knew the wounds she still carried, the ghosts of that tragedy she hadn't let go of. But life was long. She had to move on.
"I won't marry anyone," she repeated. "And this is also CEO Mo's wish. He couldn't say it directly, so he asked me to inform you."
She said it like she was reading a weather report, detached and devoid of any emotion.
All eyes turned to Mo Yichen.
He looked at her, thunderstruck. Was she even real? She is playing me, in front of everyone, he thought.
She didn't even look at him again. But in her silence, she had declared war. And he, for some reason, wanted to fight it.
She excused herself and walked away slowly, her footsteps echoing in the silent hallway.
Behind the calm eyes and measured words, something had cracked. But no one saw it. No one ever did.
Outside, Mo Yichen walked to get the car, jaw clenched, still reeling from her words.
Back in the patio, Old Master Mo remained seated, his gaze sharper than his smile.
He sipped his tea and turned to Mr. Xia. "It seems the old wounds haven't scabbed yet. This won't be easy."
"Not easy," Mrs. Xia said, her voice tight, "but not impossible."
There was a pause.
Mr. Xia glanced toward the hallway where his daughter had disappeared, a flicker of grief shining in his eyes. The old master said again
"She hasn't forgotten… has she?"
Mr. Xia replied. "Not yet."