Just as the tension from the heiresses began to scatter across the ballroom floor like broken glass in heels, another ripple ran through the crowd—smaller, quieter, but no less sharp.
Because he arrived.
Shen Yichen.
Shen Rui's cousin.
Golden boy of the Shen family's secondary branch. Polished. Well-dressed. Smile always a little too bright. The type of man who introduced himself with his full name and LinkedIn summary. While Shen Rui commanded with silence, Shen Yichen flooded the room with overcompensation.
He always had something to prove.
Unfortunately, Shen Rui never gave him a stage.
Or an audience.
Or the time of day.
"Ah, cousin!" Shen Yichen's voice rang out as he approached, arms open like they were best friends meeting after years apart. "And this must be… the famous girlfriend!"
Lin Xie blinked. "I'm not famous."
"But you are stunning." Yichen grinned, eyes gleaming just a bit too long on her figure. "Where on earth did you find her, Rui?"
Shen Rui didn't bother looking at him. "She's not lost."
That earned a subtle snort from Shen Yan behind a champagne flute.
Madam Shen leaned in toward her husband. "He's doing it again."
Mr. Shen sighed softly. "He never learns."
Yichen, completely ignoring the frigid tone, forged on.
"So, how's business lately?" he asked, slipping beside Shen Rui with a confident swagger. "I just closed a deal with Mingrui Industries last week. They were… very impressed."
Shen Rui didn't stop walking. "Pity. I rejected their proposal three months ago."
Yichen blinked. "What?"
"They offered it to me first. It wasn't worth the paperwork."
Lin Xie turned her head slightly—very slightly—and Yichen, catching the motion, offered her a smile dipped in self-congratulation.
"I'm sure Shen Rui doesn't tell you these things, Miss Lin. He's not exactly the warm and chatty type. But I've always believed in sharing success. Enlightening others."
Lin Xie stared at him. "You mean you talk a lot."
He faltered.
Shen Rui, still expressionless, offered a single word: "Clown."
Shen Yichen blinked. "Sorry?"
"I said you're a clown."
The nearby waiter coughed to hide a laugh. Madam Shen didn't even try.
And Lin Xie?
She stepped closer to Shen Rui, just enough to form a physical wall between him and the cousin now growing red in the ears.
"Please refrain from standing too close to my boyfriend," she said calmly. "You're blocking the air."
Yichen bristled. "I—what? I'm just talking. It's family."
"You're loud," she added, tone polite but firm. "And a little insecure. I can smell it from here."
Shen Yan nearly dropped her phone trying to record discreetly.
Yichen's jaw tensed. "You think you're funny?"
"No," Lin Xie said. "But you are. In an unfortunate, secondhand embarrassment sort of way."
Around them, more guests had turned, pretending not to eavesdrop while failing miserably. The tension swirled, equal parts awkward and delightful.
Yichen turned to Shen Rui again, lips pressed into a tight line. "Is she always this… mouthy?"
"She's still being polite," Shen Rui said, finally glancing at him. "I'd listen before she upgrades."
Lin Xie tilted her head. "I haven't threatened anyone in hours. It's starting to itch."
Shen Rui's lips twitched. Barely. But it was there.
And every single member of the Shen family who saw it reacted the same way.
Stunned. Soft. Shocked.
Because Shen Rui didn't smile.
But here he was—smiling at her.
Even if it was the subtle, blink-and-you-miss-it version. For him, that was practically a confession.
Madam Shen elbowed her husband. "He's smiling."
Shen Yan squealed under her breath. "I'm posting this—no, I'm framing it."
Mr. Shen said nothing. Just sipped his wine, eyes narrowed in distant approval.
Yichen, now visibly rattled, scoffed. "You're all acting like this is something serious. Come on. It's just a game. A fake relationship for show, right?"
Lin Xie smiled.
A slow, polite, terrifying smile.
And without missing a beat, she replied, "Oh. You're projecting."
Then she turned to Shen Rui and added softly, "You should have warned me your cousin was one of those people who confuses ambition with relevance."
Yichen choked on his own ego.
And Shen Rui?
He placed a hand lightly on her back—the barest touch.
But to the room, to everyone watching, it was more powerful than a kiss.
"You're not obligated to acknowledge pests," he murmured. "Just ignore the buzzing."
She nodded. "Noted."
Yichen sputtered something about "being the next head" and "legacy" and "real competition," but no one was listening.
Because the ballroom had already decided.
Shen Rui's indifference was deadly.
But Lin Xie's defense?
Was lethal.
And together?
They were untouchable.
---
Shen Yichen should have walked away.
Logically, socially, even for the sake of his dignity—he should've taken the L and exited stage left before the ballroom's entire upper echelon posted his humiliation on the evening gossip thread.
But no.
Because Shen Yichen had one fatal flaw:
He thought he was the main character.
And so, despite Lin Xie's verbal dismemberment, despite Shen Rui's silent contempt, despite the very air around him vibrating with secondhand embarrassment…
He puffed his chest and spoke louder.
"Well! You know, not everyone can relate to what it's like managing multiple international branches," he announced, addressing absolutely no one but speaking as if to a documentary crew. "But when you're in charge of a hundred employees and closing foreign mergers left and right, you develop a strategic mindset. Isn't that right, cousin?"
Shen Rui didn't respond.
He didn't even blink.
Lin Xie, however, stepped forward ever so slightly, as if she had received a voice command.
"Interesting," she said in her signature calm. "You manage a hundred employees?"
Yichen grinned. "Roughly, yes. Depends on the contract load—"
"That's adorable," she interrupted, in the same tone one might use for a child showing off a drawing of a cow with five legs. "Would you like a gold star?"
The grin twitched.
"I—what?"
"Because Shen Rui oversees four thousand direct employees globally," she said flatly. "With an indirect matrix structure touching over twelve thousand across subsidiaries. But sure. A hundred is impressive. You must be very tired."
The crowd snorted.
Someone clapped.
Shen Yichen's ears turned red.
He tried again. "Well, I've always believed that quality trumps quantity. No offense to Rui's style, but I prefer a hands-on approach."
Lin Xie's brows lifted half a centimeter. "Then maybe use both hands next time. You clearly dropped something."
He blinked. "What—?"
"Your point," she said.
Shen Rui actually coughed. Once. Into his fist. Suspiciously close to a laugh.
Yichen scrambled for footing. "I've also been invited to Davos this year. You know, the global forum. For leaders. With vision."
"Ah," Lin Xie nodded solemnly. "Because nothing says 'vision' like needing a committee of strangers to validate your LinkedIn tagline."
"I—excuse me—"
"And remind me," she added, voice curious but lethal, "how many of your patents have cleared international IP litigation?"
He paused. "I… don't file patents personally."
She tilted her head. "That's fine. How many of your investments have cleared World Bank compliance? Or leveraged blockchain regulation without incurring audit red flags? Or scaled outside domestic GDP thresholds without collapsing your liquidity margin?"
Yichen blinked.
"I—"
"How many," she repeated, smiling pleasantly, "have survived beyond your father's old contacts?"
The silence that followed could've sliced a chandelier in half.
Shen Yan was wheezing behind a chair.
Madam Shen slapped her thigh under the table and whispered, "She's doing math. In real time. She's dismembering his resume in algebra."
Yichen's mouth opened.
Then closed.
Then opened again—like a fish out of water, trying to explain calculus to a torpedo.
He gathered himself. "You sound like a machine."
"Thank you," Lin Xie replied, unoffended. "I aim for accuracy."
"It's unnatural!"
"And yet somehow, still more human than whatever you're doing."
"Wha—You're just pretending to be intelligent."
"Please," she said, smiling tightly. "If I were pretending, I'd pretend to be you. Then I could fail upward in peace."
The air snapped.
A waiter dropped a glass.
One of the socialite moms gasped so loud she startled a decorative peacock flower arrangement.
Yichen's face was red now. Boiling. Desperate. "I-I've worked hard! I didn't coast on the family name!"
"No," Lin Xie agreed. "You ran with it taped to your forehead."
"Oh my god," Shen Yan wheezed from behind her wine.
Yichen was fuming now, turning to Shen Rui in a final attempt at salvation. "You're just letting her say all this? Rui?"
Shen Rui met his eyes with the kind of expression one reserves for printer errors and traffic delays.
"I let her say whatever she wants," he said coolly. "Because she doesn't need me to speak for her. Unlike some people I know, who only function when there's a crowd clapping."
He turned slightly to Lin Xie. "Would you like to continue? Or shall we go?"
Lin Xie gave one last nod toward Yichen, almost pitying. "I think he's learned enough. For today."
And with that, she turned.
Shen Rui offered a slight smirk—half a second, razor thin—and followed her without a word.
They walked off, flawless and unbothered, while Yichen stood behind like someone who'd just lost a spelling bee to an AI.
The crowd watched them disappear across the marble floor.
"She's not human," whispered someone near the bar.
"She's not even hired muscle," someone else muttered. "She's an event."
At the Shen family table, Madam Shen placed her hand on her chest.
"I want her framed," she whispered. "In the family photo. Enlarged."
Shen Yan wiped a tear. "He picked a murder robot. And I love her."
Mr. Shen simply nodded. "She's an asset."
A pause.
Then, dryly: "Unlike Yichen."
And somewhere, behind all the chatter, the gossip, the echoing humiliation—
Yichen was still standing in the same spot.
Frozen.
Quiet.
Calculating, possibly, how to reset his life.
Lin Xie didn't glance back.
But if she had, she might've said: Reboot. Try again.