The orchestra's final note hummed on the air, trembling like a frozen breath, before dying in polite applause. My fingers were empty, my pulse still pounding, and Xu Jianyu was already gone—lost in the tide of silk and gold of the ballroom as if he'd never existed except as a phantom conjured by music.
But the crowd had not been mistaken about what had just happened.
"Unbelievable…"
"Did you see that? So provocative!"
"A Xu, here, and with her of all persons—"
".what is it meant to signify?"
The whispers converged, a wave of voices chasing after me while I stood rooted in the center of the hall. My mask of polite smile remained constant, but each fiber of my body was tight with frustration. The ballroom no longer moved smoothly once more. The dance floor was no longer merely a floor—it was a stage, and I had been labeled on it.
"Lihua!"
Yating elbowed through the crowd, her skirt hissing as she pulled Jiahao in her wake. Her eyes were wide, the fan clutched firmly in her hand. "What in the world just happened? Was that—was that actually Xu Jianyu?
Jiahao had answered first. "Of course it was! Who else can enter a room like that and have everyone gasping at their champagne? Heaven above, Lihua, you danced with him. Do you know how many girls in this ballroom would kill for that?
Yating elbowed him sharply. "Kill for it? Don't be ridiculous. That wasn't a friendly flirtation—that was a message. A Xu does not dance unless there is meaning to it." She turned to me, searching my face. "What did he say to you?"
I shifted my head, my well-rehearsed smile still in place though my stomach twisted. "Nothing of significance."
"Nothing of importance?" Jiahao's voice cracked upward. "Lihua, that was the Xu family's heir. People write entire columns about the angle of his tie and the brand of his cufflinks. And you're telling me he just waltzed out there and said nothing?"
I opened my lips, then closed them once more. What was I to say? That his words were not flirtatious or charming, but biting and disquieting? That being asked sounded like being claimed.
"Later," I said, glancing over at the stage where the master of ceremonies was attempting to restore order by announcing the next round of dance. "We'll talk later."
Yating looked like she was going to argue, but Jiahao tugged her back, complaining about not causing such a commotion. The two reluctantly fell back, however, their worried glances still behind me.
My father materialized at my side a second later, his hand soft but firm on my shoulder. "Lihua," he breathed, his voice calming but laced with steel. "You will not see him again."
I rebelled. "Baba—"
"It is not disputable." Tonight, his usual gentle eyes were unyielding, the light from the chandelier illuminating the silver threading at his temples. "The Xu clan is a dangerous game, one that devours those stupid enough to come too close. Do you understand?"
My throat closed up. I nodded involuntarily, but my head lashed about inside like tangled threads.
My mother arrived, her dress flowing like water, her countenance serene though tension pulled at the corners of her eyes. She glanced once towards where Jianyu had disappeared, then at me again. "He only inquires if he's already decided what he'll receive," she murmured, so our household alone might hear. "Don't mix that notice with coincidence, Lihua. To a Xu, all is planned."
Her words weighed heavily on my chest.
The music swelled a third time, couples again dancing, the dazzling front of the gala restruck together. But underneath it all, tension hummed like a second note, and one heard by me alone.
I excused myself to the rim of the ballroom, where a table with crystal glasses and tiered trays of delicate desserts sat. I needed air, space, something to disperse the fog from my brain. Drinking in a flute of sparkling water, I tried to steady my hands, but they shook anyway.
Over in the corner, bent heads huddled together, whispers behind gems-encrusted fans and champagne flutes. My name whispered among them, now paired with him. Zhang Lihua and Xu Jianyu. A couple spoken of like rumor and prophecy both.
I lifted the edge of the glass to my lips though I did not need it.
And then, as I set it down, my fingers brushed against something that had not been there before.
A small card, no bigger than the palm of my hand, slipped into the folds of my purse. I froze, looking over the other party-goers in the room, but no one was looking in my direction. No one was close enough to have slipped it to me.
Ticking with terror, I coaxed the card out. Thick black paper, corners lightly gilt. In the center, embossed silver: 徐. Xu.
No note. No note. Just the name.
I swallowed, sliding the card back into my purse before another set of eyes could see. My gaze swept the crowd instinctively. And there—standing in the middle of the room, half-hidden under the balcony—stood Jianyu.
He wasn't smiling today. He didn't need to. His eyes locked onto mine, firm, intent, until the crowd shifted and he was lost again.
I breathed shakily I hadn't even known I was holding it.
The gala continued to shine on, music reigning high, laughter frothing, as if nothing was different. But for me, it all was.
Because the card in my purse was not just a name.
It was a threat. Or a vow.
And I didn't know which one scared me more.