Chapter 1: The girl who promised to marry him
In the heart of Yanjing's old district, behind high vermilion walls carved with phoenixes and dragons, stood the Lu family estate—a mansion whispered about with reverence in elite circles. The Lu family, crowned with wealth and legacy, had stood at the pinnacle of China's business world for generations. Its cold and brilliant young heir, Lucas Lu, had already begun casting a long shadow, even at the age of twelve.
Lucas was a boy of quiet thunder—tall for his age, charming, impeccably mannered, with eyes like black glass: still and unreadable. His presence commanded attention. Adults whispered about his genius intellect, his stoic grace. Children either feared or adored him—but none truly understood him. None, perhaps, except Elena Huo.
Elena was only five when she first declared in the drawing room of the Lu mansion, "When I grow up, I'll marry Lucas!"
The entire household laughed—except Lucas, who simply glanced down at her, said nothing, and walked away. Elena, unfazed, trailed behind him like a tiny comet. She was the kind of child that melted stone—bright eyes, a round face that always smiled, and a presence like spring sunlight. Whenever Lucas stood still too long, Elena would tug at his sleeve and say, "Let's go! You're too serious."
No one ever dared touch Lucas Lu like that. But Elena did. And Lucas let her.
Her world was filled with warmth back then. Her mother, Huo Yanjin, a gentle woman from an old southern scholarly family, had married into the powerful but treacherous Huo family. Her maternal grandfather, Old Master Huo, was a legend in his own right—an iron-willed businessman who had loved Elena like a treasure.
They visited the Lu estate often. Old Master Huo and Grandpa Lu, Lu Shicheng, had once built half of Yanjing's commerce side by side. It was on one such visit, with peonies blooming in the Lu courtyard, that Elena first met Lucas. Since then, she refused to leave his side. The staff would smile and say, "Here comes Young Master Lu with his little tail."
But fate, as always, was not kind to bright things.
When Elena turned five, everything shattered.
Her mother and grandfather died in a car accident on the way to a charity gala. Or so the police said. In reality, wheels had been greased, brakes tampered with, and questions quietly buried under influence. It was James Huo, Elena's so-called father, who stood to gain the most—he inherited the majority shares of the Huo Group, bypassing Elena, who was legally too young to manage them.
No one suspected that Elena was not his biological child. That secret remained hidden, buried under years of betrayal. But James had always resented her.
Soon, James moved in his mistress, Liu Yanyan, and her daughter, Anya Liu, into the Huo residence. Anya was beautiful in a cold, sculpted way, a year older than Elena, and already mimicking her mother's cunning smiles. The warmth of Elena's world turned to ice. The once cheerful girl was now scolded for breathing too loudly, slapped for reading at the dinner table, and left to eat alone in the servant quarters.
Yet she never cried. Not in front of them.
She simply went to the only place where she still felt safe—the Lu Mansion.
Lu Shicheng was growing old, illness tugging at his frame, but he always smiled when he saw her.
"Elena," he once said, coughing behind a silk handkerchief, "You're like my little granddaughter. When I'm gone, this house will always be yours."
Lucas, still silent as ever, began waiting by the gate whenever she came. Sometimes he brought her warm buns. Sometimes he sat beside her under the magnolia tree and read aloud without being asked.
He never told her, but he had started noticing the bruises.
"Elena," he once asked, "Who hurt you?"
She only smiled. "No one. I fell."
He said nothing. But the next day, James Huo received a phone call from an unknown number. That night, Liu Yanyan slapped Anya across the face, and Elena, for once, slept in peace.
But even Lucas could not stop what came next.
At age seven, Lu Shicheng passed away. The grand funeral spanned three days. The who's who of Yanjing's elite came to pay their respects. Elena stood beside Lucas in mourning white. She wept quietly, holding a white chrysanthemum in her tiny hand. Lucas did not cry, but his jaw was tight the entire time.
"He wanted you to marry me," Elena whispered to him during the procession, "So don't forget."
Lucas didn't answer. But for the first time, he reached out and gently took her hand.
That moment stayed in Elena's heart like a photograph.
But time—cruel, sharp time—moved on.
By the time she was eight, Elena was thinner. Her smiles were rarer. At school, teachers noted how polite she was, how quiet. She never told them why she winced when someone touched her arm. She never said why she flinched at loud footsteps.
Yet she held on. Because her birthday was coming. She was turning eight, and she had made a plan.
She would ask Lucas to pick her up after school. They would go to the bookstore like before. She would buy the storybook he once read to her. She would ask him again to marry her.
On the eve of her birthday, she sent him a message on his pager. Short and simple.
> "Lucas, will you come pick me up tomorrow? It's my birthday. I'll wait for you."
But Lucas, caught in a storm of family meetings and his own emotions, didn't reply. He read the message. He stared at it. And then he closed the pager.
She'll wait, he thought. It's childish. I'll go later.
The next morning, when Lucas arrived at the school gate, she was not there.
Instead, a teacher came rushing out with a police officer.
"There's been a report," the teacher said. "Elena Huo is missing. Her backpack was found near the back gate."
Lucas didn't hear the rest. His world spun.
He ran. He screamed at the guards. He searched the empty classrooms. He grabbed Anya by the collar when he saw her smirk—but she only laughed.
"She probably ran away," Anya said. "Who would stay when they're not wanted?"
That day would become Lucas Lu's greatest regret.
He had not picked her up.
And now she was gone.