The city lay sleepless, bathed in neon and shadows. From the top floor of Qilin International's headquarters, the view stretched endlessly, but Han Ruiming's attention was on the phone pressed against his ear.
"It's done," he said, voice calm, clipped. "Everything at the station has been handled."
A woman's voice came through, low, steady, carrying the weight of someone used to obedience.
"Good. No loose ends, Ruiming. I don't want even a whisper left behind. You understand."
His grip on the phone tightened. His composure didn't break, but a flicker of hesitation passed through his eyes.
"There's… something. Miss Xi."
The line went silent. For a breath, the hum of the city outside felt deafening.
"She might have been the one who beat those men," he admitted at last.The silence broke—this time not with anger, but with a soft, deliberate laugh. Feminine, elegant, but edged like a blade.
"Of course she did. Who else?" the woman said, almost amused. "Don't play dumb, Ruiming. You know her reputation. Senior Yiyi has never needed saving. If those men ended up on the ground, it was because she put them there."
Han Ruiming exhaled slowly, his lips twisting into a wry, almost helpless smile.
"…So you knew."
"I didn't need to know," she replied smoothly. "I already know. And you should too. Handle the aftermath. Make sure no one dares touch her."
The line went dead with a crisp click.
Han Ruiming lowered the phone slowly, his reflection staring back at him in the glass. For a long moment, he said nothing.
The city glittered beneath him, loud and restless, but all he felt was the heaviness settling in his chest.
For the first time, he wondered if what he had done was right.
---
A soft tap announced Butler Wen's approach.
"Madam," he said, voice even, "I have arranged a phone for Second Miss."
Song Huifei's gaze cut to him, sharp and accusing. "Finally. Make sure she takes a driver wherever she goes. I don't want any… scandals."
"Yes, Madam."
"And see that she memorizes the house number. If she causes trouble again or makes people think we're neglecting her…" Huifei's lip curled. "I won't tolerate it."
"Yes, Madam."
Her eyes narrowed. "What is Xi Jiayi doing?"
Butler Wen stepped forward. "She's in her room, madam. Going through some letters she received."
"Letters?" Song Huifei's voice snapped like a whip. "In this age? Who even bothers with letters?"
"I believe they're from the monastery she lived at," Butler Wen replied calmly.
Song Huifei's brows knit, irritation simmering. "Of course. Who else would waste time on such things?"
"Yes, madam." Butler Wen's tone stayed steady, but after a pause, he added carefully, "Second Miss has been staying home most of the day. It is not good for her… she should be going to school soon."
The words Second Miss made Song Huifei's jaw tighten. Her voice came low, clipped, every word bitten off. "How old is she?"
"Two years older than Young Master Qin Jiahao, madam."
Song Huifei turned away, hiding the twitch in her lips. "Make arrangements. She'll attend school. Her name stays Xi Jiayi. Nothing else."
"Yes, madam." Butler Wen bowed lightly. He hesitated a moment, then, reading the warning in her eyes, turned and left in silence.
Upstairs, Xi Jiayi sat by her desk, an opened envelope resting in her hand. Across the top, the bold crest of Imperial University gleamed under the light.
Her gaze lingered on the words, tracing each line carefully.
Her expression didn't change.
She folded the letter once, twice, then dropped it into the bin as though it was nothing more than junk.
Silence stretched. The room felt heavier, pressing down. Finally, she leaned forward, fished the letter out again, and smoothed the creases.
The new phone Butler Wen had left her sat unopened on the desk. Xi Jiayi tore the seal, powered it on, and typed out a short, cutting reply.
"Thank you for the offer. I reject."
She hit send without hesitation.