The floor gleamed. Marble. Polished to a mirror shine that caught the morning light and threw it back in soft white flares. Lin Chuan's slippers made no sound as he followed the servant down the corridor. His eyes traced the grain of the walnut paneling, the dark swirls of wood that must have cost more than a year's tuition at the university he'd never gotten to attend.
Oil paintings lined the walls every few meters. Landscapes mostly, mountains and rivers. One canvas showed a snow-covered peak disappearing into fog so thick you could almost feel the cold damp seeping through the frame. The signature was illegible. A scrawl. Some name that meant nothing to him. But Ling Mu's memories supplied the context. An original. Worth more than the apartment his parents had struggled thirty years to buy. He wondered if the artist had ever known his work would end up here, under these lights, looked at by servants who passed it a hundred times a day without stopping.
Fresh lilies stood in porcelain vases between the paintings. White petals. Yellow stamens. The fragrance hung thick and sweet, almost cloying. He breathed it in anyway. Let it fill his lungs. It was better than the alternative. Better than the metallic tang of blood that still lingered in his memory of that bathroom floor.
The servants wore uniforms tailored better than the suits professors wore at graduation ceremonies. Each one bowed as he passed. Their eyes never quite met his. They'd seen the bandages. Everyone had seen the bandages. The rumors had spread through the household like wildfire through dry brush.
The servant stopped before two carved rosewood doors. The wood was so dark it was almost black, inlaid with mother-of-pearl that caught the light in tiny rainbow flashes. She lowered her head.
"Young Master."
Her voice trembled slightly. The hesitation was palpable.
"Chairman Ling and Master Ling have been worried about you."
"I know."
She pushed the doors open.
The study smelled of old paper and leather and something faintly medicinal. Bookshelves covered every wall. Thousands of them. Leather-bound classics with cracked spines. Ancient manuscripts stored behind glass. Modern medical journals stacked in neat piles on the desk. International law, economics, history. He caught himself staring. His fingers itched. He wanted to run his hand along the rows, to feel the rough cloth of the old bindings, to pull down a volume and breathe in the dust of decades.
He wondered if anyone would notice if one disappeared into his room.
"Mu'er."
An old man rose from behind a mahogany desk, Chairman Ling. His white hair was combed neatly but his eyes were red-rimmed. Deep lines carved parentheses around his mouth. He'd aged ten years in three days. Beside him stood a man in his mid-thirties, tall and composed in a charcoal-gray suit.
Ling Xu, Ling Mu's uncle.
Neither had slept. You could see it in the set of their jaws, the shadows under their eyes. Their gazes dropped to the bandages beneath his sleeves. The silence stretched. Ling Xu's hands were clasped behind his back. White-knuckled.
"...Does it still hurt?"
Chairman Ling's voice cracked on the last word.
"They're much better."
The old man's shoulders sagged. The relief was almost painful to witness.
"I'm sorry."
The words came out barely above a whisper. Lin Chuan studied the old man's face. This was the patriarch of the Ling family. A man who'd built an empire from nothing. Who'd never apologized to anyone in his life. Yet here he stood, apologizing to his grandson. The memories that weren't his stirred. Ling Mu had never gotten apologies. He'd gotten tutors. Doctors. Birthdays filled with expensive gifts he didn't want. He'd gotten opportunities, expectations, a future mapped out in gold ink.
He'd never gotten "I'm sorry."
Until now.
Ling Xu stepped forward.
"If you no longer want this marriage..."
He paused. His eyes flickered to the bandages. Away.
"...then you don't have to."
Lin Chuan blinked. He saw it in the memories. Ling Xu breaking open the bathroom door. The blood on his white shirt. His hands shaking as he pressed towels to the wounds. The way he'd screamed at the doctors. He had never screamed at anyone in his life. He was the composed one. The diplomat. The one who smoothed over conflicts with a calm word and a neutral expression.
Chairman Ling exhaled. A long, tired sound.
"The Gu family has already arrived."
"They're waiting in the east parlor."
Ling Xu shook his head.
"They can wait."
"I know they can wait." Chairman Ling rubbed his temples. "But they deserve an answer."
Lin Chuan stayed silent. He was thinking. The Gu family. One of the Four Great Families. Medicine. Technology. Shipping. Education. They had their fingers in everything. Their wealth rivaled the Lings. But his mind was elsewhere. Universities. Private research centers. Libraries. Scholarships. Laboratories filled with gleaming equipment, with books he'd never been able to afford, with opportunities he'd only ever read about.
Chairman Ling noticed the faraway look.
"If you're frightened..."
"We'll cancel everything."
Lin Chuan looked up.
"Do we need this marriage?"
Both men frowned.
"No." Ling Xu answered first. "It was arranged because your parents wished it. Your future would have been secure even without it."
"So if I refuse..."
"Nothing happens."
"...I see."
The quiet returned. Ling Xu watched him carefully. There was something different about the boy. A steadiness that hadn't been there before. A curiosity instead of resignation.
"You aren't asking about Gu Zhen."
"I already know the rumors."
"And?"
"They're only rumors until proven right."
Chairman Ling sighed.
"They're persistent rumors. They say he's violent. That he struck a physician. That his temper became uncontrollable after the accident."
Lin Chuan nodded.
"I heard."
"You aren't afraid?"
He considered the question. Fear without evidence was a waste of energy. That was a lesson he'd learned the hard way. Fear without evidence had kept him from applying to better schools. Had made him settle for what was safe instead of what he wanted. He'd regretted that choice every day. He wouldn't make it again.
"I don't know him."
The answer was honest. It seemed to surprise them both.
Chairman Ling exchanged a glance with his son. Perhaps the blood loss had affected his judgment. Perhaps this was a temporary thing, a calm before a storm. But for now, it was a calm they were grateful for.
A knock interrupted them.
"Chairman. The Gu family requests an answer."
Chairman Ling closed his eyes. Drew a long breath through his nose.
"Very well."
---
The east parlor was smaller than the study. Cozier. A fireplace crackled though the day was warm, and crystal chandeliers threw rainbows across the walls. Four people waited inside.
Chairman Gu. A stocky man with a thick neck and shrewd eyes. Madam Gu beside him, her face frozen in a mask of practiced elegance. Their youngest grandson, Gu Yunting, sat on a settee with his legs crossed, looking bored. The very picture of indifferent privilege. He was handsome in a polished way, the kind of face that graced magazine covers. His eyes swept the room lazily. He didn't stand when they entered.
And then there was Gu Zhen.
Lin Chuan's steps slowed. He hadn't known what to expect. The newspapers had painted a monster. The novel had barely given him a sentence before shifting focus to the younger brother. The rumors painted a picture of a beast in human skin.
What he saw was a man in a wheelchair.
Too pale. Too thin. His dark hair fell across his forehead in untidy strands, as if he'd run his hands through it one too many times. Months of rehabilitation had wasted his frame. His cheekbones stood out sharply. The knuckles of his hands were prominent under the pale skin. One hand rested on the armrest, the other holding a cane across his lap. His left leg was tilted at an odd angle.
His expression was cold. Not the cold of anger. The cold of exhaustion. Of pain that never quite left. His eyes were dark, almost black, and when they lifted to meet Lin Chuan's, something flickered there. Recognition. Not of him, exactly. Of the bandages.
His gaze dropped. He studied the white wrappings for a long moment. The crease between his brows deepened. He looked away first.
Chairman Gu rose.
"We're relieved to see you're recovering."
Lin Chuan inclined his head politely.
"Thank you."
Madam Gu smiled. It didn't quite reach her eyes.
"We understand if you wish to postpone the engagement. It was a traumatic experience."
"The engagement remains."
Everyone turned. Lin xu's voice was low, steady. It carried the weight of someone who was used to being heard. Different, completely different from how he had been in the study.
"The wedding doesn't."
Silence. The crackling fire was suddenly very loud.
Chairman Gu frowned.
"Xu."
"He nearly died." Ling Xu's gaze settled back on the bandages. "A person who has just survived shouldn't be asked to do what caused the incident you understand right."
No one interrupted. He continued, tone matter-of-fact.
"We'll postpone the wedding until Young Master Ling has fully recovered."
Lin Chuan blinked. He looked at this man, his uncle, he remembered that aside from being his uncle he was also considered the devil's incarnate in the business world ever since he was adopted he had shown he had an exceptional mind.
Lin Chuan felt his heart race and even the pain he had been ignoring throbbed so this was what it was like for someone to stand up for you. He had never felt it all he had from when he was young was expectations piled on expectations.