The orchestra swelled, violins soaring in perfect harmony with the firm beat of the piano, and the ballroom seemed to shimmer all the more brilliant with every note. But even above the music, above the laughter spilling out around every corner, my heart thudded against my chest like a badly tuned drum.
I stood with Yating and Jiahao at the refreshment table, pretending to be interested in their discussion. They were debating whose desserts would not make them worse for dressing up if they gave in to temptation. I would have made fun of them ordinarily, but tonight their words went over me without sticking. My smile was fixed on, fragile as porcelain. I replayed whispers in my head, voices heard in tatters.
"Xu Jianyu."
The name had planted itself in me. All gossip hung on that syllable like smoke on silk. Dangereuse. Uncompromising. Affable. I'd heard of the Xu clan before—who hadn't? Even in the residue of memory left behind by this body, their name was the one you'd think of when you uttered caution. Contracts were struck in their favor, alliances forged and dissolved at their caprice. But never, not ever, had I looked forward to running into one of them.
And still, he had stayed back there, speaking as though I were present.
I shook my head and attempted to laugh when Yating shoved me. "Lihua, you're spaced out. Don't tell me you're still concerned about the history exam tomorrow. It's a gala!"
"Maybe she's concerned about the dance with her father," Jiahao joked, crushing a cream puff. "Don't trip on those stilettos."
I swatted at him half-heartedly. "I'll be fine. I'm just… tired."
It wasn't entirely a lie. But fatigue wasn't the weight pressing down on me.
A waiter passed, and for a second I could have sworn the tray in his hand trembled—glasses clinking together like anxious hearts. He steadied it at once, his polite smile never wavering, but my own heart skipped a beat. I couldn't shake off the feeling of tension that had been creeping over me since the encounter at the balcony.
The ballroom grew suddenly too hot, too stifling.
And then, as if fate itself answered my thoughts, I felt it—eyes on me.
I turned around before I could stop myself.
Amidst the sea of suits and cocktail gowns, amidst the haze of dancing couples and the glint of crystal chandeliers, he was present. Xu Jianyu.
No shadow concealed him now. Tall, with an upright stance, a wine glass held dexterously in one hand. His suit fell well, black with the slightest sheen to it, understated but commanding. His tie was deep, silky red, the color of a whisper warning. But his clothes were not what paralyzed me—it was his eyes.
He was not speaking to anyone, not laughing along with the others, not making the effort to appear swept up in the party. His own dark and piercing eyes rested on me alone.
The music grew faint, people around me blurring into obscurity. My breath was stuck in my throat.
Why me?
I had to turn my eyes away, occupied myself with the glass of shimmering water in my hand, feigning attention to Yating's grumbling about the tempo of the music. But the burden of his gaze remained, as heavy as chains.
Minutes ticked by, but each one seemed to stretch out like rubber. When finally I mustered the courage to sneak a glance, Jianyu was not in his place. Relief didn't have a chance to set in before I spotted movement again—people making way for him as leaves before an autumn breeze.
Nobody dared to intercept him. Chatter lapsed behind him, smiles lessening, until the air was charged with the knowledge that a dangerous person was close by. But he didn't notice anyone else. His course, insidious as it was, continued to edge closer.
My grip on my glass tightened. Yating was swiping through her phone, choosing which photos to post later, and Jiahao was messing with his cufflinks, oblivious. They both did not catch on to the slight commotion in the ballroom.
Only me.
I breathed slowly, forcing myself to stay calm. He didn't know my secret—he couldn't. I was Zhang Lihua, privileged daughter, just another face among the elite. So why did his intensity feel as though it cut deeper, as though he saw something others didn't?
I stepped back from the table, grumbling something about needing air, but my feet had other ideas. Instead of heading toward the balcony again, I somehow found myself threading into a group moving toward the dance floor. Couples spun, gowns spinning like flowers, and I stood at the edge, partly hidden.
That's when it happened.
Somewhere in the distance of the room, Jianyu stopped. Our gazes met again, the people between us spreading like water around stone.
This time, there was no misunderstanding. He was looking directly at me, and he did not look away.
Heat flashed along my spine. My hand snapped, mere inches from dumping the glass. The music swelled, and his eyes still held. A fleeting smile brushed his mouth—too subtle for anyone else to notice, too deliberate for me to misinterpret.
It wasn't friendliness. It wasn't curiosity. It was possession, the kind of look that told me he'd already chosen his next move.
I blinked, and in the instant, a pair whirled by, blinding me. When they moved on, Jianyu was nowhere to be seen.
My chest lifted and fell in short gasps. The crowd was noisier now, laughter crisper, the violins on the verge of being shrill. I clutched a hand against my gown, holding onto it, but the shadow of that look stuck to me like a second skin.
He was here. He was watching. And for reasons I could not even attempt to comprehend, he had chosen me.
The ball went on, dazzling and sparkling, but the night had already been altered. A Xu never lingered without intent.
And somehow, I knew—this was only the beginning.