Tô Mộng Dao stood before the enormous glass window. Her fingers lightly traced the edge of the dagger hidden in her sleeve, feeling its cold sharpness.
Below, Yun Port sprawled in dazzling splendor, but to her, it was merely an illusory promise, forever out of reach. This was Yun Port, where the power of colossal conglomerates flowed through billion-dollar deals and secrets never meant to be unveiled. And she? She stood at the city's pinnacle, in a lavish gilded cage, yet a cage nonetheless.
The sharp "ding" of the private elevator echoed, stark and cold. Hoắc Kình Thiên's footsteps resounded on the marble floor, each sound as steady as the heartbeat she struggled to keep restrained within her chest.
"The night breeze is cold," he said, his voice low and measured.
"Not as cold as what I'm feeling," Mộng Dao replied without turning.
A prolonged moment of silence followed. She sensed him drawing closer, a wave of warmth from the cashmere coat he draped over her shoulders. The coat felt heavy—not from the fabric, but from the intent it carried.
He presented a dark blue velvet box.
"A gift for you."
Inside gleamed a diamond necklace.
Another exquisite chain.
"Wear it tomorrow night at the Phong Lôi gala," he said. "I hear Phong Lôi intends to challenge Hoắc Corporation, and you will be my trump card."
Mộng Dao turned to face him. Her eyes flashed with a cold glint, as if a still lake had been shattered by a stone, splintering into a thousand shards of glass.
"The diamonds are beautiful," she said, "but they can't buy wings."
A flicker of unease passed through Hoắc Kình Thiên's eyes, vanishing as quickly as a lightning strike. His hand, poised to touch her, tightened briefly, knuckles whitening. He smiled, a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"But they can keep you by my side."
He stepped forward, intending to fasten the necklace around her neck.
At that moment, Mộng Dao began to dance.
Without music, without softness. Her dance surged like a silent storm. Each step struck the floor with restrained force; each turn of her body was an effort to break free from shackles. Her trembling hands became silver blades, slicing through the air. She spun once, her body taut, then stopped abruptly, a single step away from him.
Her eyes blazed with defiance. Deliberately, she let a pearl earring slip to the floor, landing at his feet.
Hoắc Kình Thiên froze. His gaze locked onto hers, then slowly shifted to the earring. The air grew thick. He bent down, unhurried, and picked it up. When he rose, a cold calculation filled his eyes, devoid of anger.
"You dropped something," he said, his voice slightly hoarse.
He stepped closer, personally fastening the earring back onto her ear, then securing the diamond necklace around her neck. His breath grazed her ear.
"But everything that belongs to you, no matter where it falls, will always return to my hands."
After he left, silence reclaimed the room, but this time it no longer oppressed. Instead, a jolt of electricity coursed down her spine, making her tremble. Mộng Dao walked to the bedroom, to the old wooden box hidden deep within the wardrobe.
Inside lay the silver butterfly hairpin, her mother's keepsake—a relic from a brilliant dancer who had died in a "tragic accident" Mộng Dao always suspected held darker truths.
She picked up the hairpin. This time, it wasn't just the warmth of memory. Her fingers brushed against an unfamiliar etching on the inner surface, a mark she had never noticed before. It wasn't a letter but a faint, nearly worn-away drawing.
A phoenix wreathed in flames.
As she stood stunned, a small, yellowed piece of paper, folded into quarters, slipped from a hidden compartment beneath the box's lining. It hadn't been there before—perhaps too well concealed. Trembling, she unfolded it.
Her mother's handwriting, hurried and unsteady.
Just three words.
"Don't trust Hoắc."