The rain had stopped some hours before dawn, and the city was clean and glittering under a pale sky. The reflection of the morning sun splintering across the wet streets like shards of glass could be seen from her balcony by Lihua. It should have been peaceful.
The house was already awakening, though.
She heard it the moment she stepped inside the hall—footsteps, murmured voices, the faint jingle of the landline ringing somewhere downstairs. The air was thick with that suppressed, efficient tension that always seemed to appear in the Zhang house whenever something important—or inconvenient—was happening.
By the time she reached the breakfast room, Minghao was already seated at the table, a tablet in his hand and a deep scowl on his usually laid-back face. Lin Meiying was by the window, speaking in a low voice to Father. Both of them turned as Lihua entered.
Minghao wordlessly slid the tablet across the table to her. The screen was filled with a feed of headlines:
"Couple Surprise at Zhang Gala: Xu Jianyu Chooses Zhang Lihua to Join Him in the Spotlight."
"Heir's Dance or Marriage Intention?"
"The Zhang Girl Who Won Over the Xu Heir's Attention."
Each photo featured the same image—their clasped hands, the incline of Jianyu's head as he looked at her. Someone had gotten the faintest suggestion of her smile; it looked serene, almost knowing.
Her stomach tightened. "They're trying to make it look like a proposal."
"That's exactly how it looks," Minghao muttered. "The gossip channels have been replaying that dance since midnight. You've got more coverage than the actual hosts."
Father's voice cut through the air, calm but razor-sharp. "It will pass."
Mother's eyebrow went up. "It won't go through, not if the Xu family remains quiet." She turned to Lihua. "You'll lie low for a few days. No school, no interviews, and no social media whatsoever.
"But—"
"Not a peep," said Father, firm as a closed door. "The last thing we want is more attention. You're grounded, Lihua. I'll ask Uncle Chen to inform your homeroom teacher you're sick."
The word grounded sounded childish in their marble dining hall, but nothing was playful in the way he said it.
Lihua fell into her seat, the aroma of jasmine tea blending with the underlying tension in the air. Liang and Chenjie were tardy, still whispering about the scene, only to hush when Father's eyes flicked to them.
They ate in silence. All she could hear was the clinking of porcelain and the steady thud of her own heartbeat to tell her that time was passing at all.
After breakfast, Mother laid a hand on her shoulder. "Your father means well. This will blow over soon enough. Meanwhile, sleep. Read. Stay home."
Lihua agreed, even as something in her recoiled at the constraint. The world beyond their gates appeared unsafe, but alluring, whispering secrets she couldn't articulate.
---
She spent the morning walking from her room to the library, trying to lose herself in something ordinary. The Zhang family library was a sanctuary of soft light and polished wood, the earthy scent of old paper soothing her nerves.
But even there, peace didn't hold.
Now and again, housemaids passed by the entrance whispering, and she caught her name in their murmurs. The servants had seen the same headlines, after all. In a household built on reputation, rumor traveled faster than sound.
Around noon, Minghao poked his head through the doorway. "You hiding in here now?"
"Is it that obvious?"
He ambled in, hands in his pockets, eyes tired. "Baba's being dramatic, you know. It's not your fault he looked like that."
"I know."
"But you also know how the Xu family operates," he continued. "They don't do accidents. People in their orbit either gain an edge… or get burned."
Lihua gave a small laugh, but it sounded hollow. "You're making it sound like I stepped into a fire."
"Maybe I did." He ruffled her hair distractedly on his way out, as if what he'd said wasn't still landing in her chest.
---
The day passed silently. By evening, the world outside her windows was orange-lit, its skyline burning like a coal.
Her door opened onto a soft knock. It was Mother again, with a small tray of fruit and tea. "You haven't eaten since breakfast."
"I wasn't hungry," Lihua grumbled.
Meiying sat beside her on the bed, setting down the tray. "When I was your age, I thought reputation was a fragile thing," she said quietly. "Now I know it's worse—it's a sword, and once drawn, it will cut anyone. Tonight you will know what I mean."
"What do you mean?"
Her mother's expression was hard to read. "There is a dinner meeting downstairs. Your father and I will attend. You'll stay here, understood?"
Lihua nodded, but curiosity tugged at the corner of her thoughts.
After her mother left, she waited, pacing. Downstairs, she could hear the muffled sound of voices in the halls—smooth, polite, but with the kind of sharp undertones only business had.
In spite of her better judgment, she crept quietly from her bedroom and along the corridor, her bare feet silent on the shining floor.
At the other end of the corridor, the main staircase looked out over the sitting room. She stood just out of sight, the lip of the balustrade cool under her fingers.
Below, Father and Mother sat opposite two older men in gray suits. The name Xu floated between their discussion, within earshot where she was standing.
".the family values your discretion," one of the men was saying suavely. "Young Master Jianyu has no wish to stir up unrest. It was merely a dance."
Her father remained calm in his response, but his tone was glacial. "A dance that invited speculation we did not ask for. My daughter's reputation is not a toy for the Xu family's entertainment.".
The man smiled, but not in his eyes. "Of course not, Mr. Zhang. But you know how perception works. The public already has its story. Perhaps it's better to just let it die on its own rather than deny it. Sometimes silence is more dignified than denial."
Lihua's hand tightened on the rail. The words were polite, but the message underlying was clear: the Xu family didn't apologize—they just informed.
Her mother spoke next, her voice cutting like crystal. "If your young master wishes to dance, he should learn to choose partners without making them headlines."
The gentlemen rose soon after, their goodbyes dripping in honeyed courtesy. As the front doors closed behind them, the house itself seemed to sigh, heavy and strained.
Lihua fled to her room before she could be caught absent by her parents. She shut the door softly behind her, her heart pounding.
She did not know what frightened her more—the power of the Xu family or the strange curiosity blossoming in her chest despite it.
---
She sat by the window that night, the city a glow of light beneath her. Her phone buzzed on the desk, another flood of messages she did not open.
But one message caught her eye.
Unknown Number: Do you always eavesdrop, Miss Zhang?
Her breath caught. She stared at the screen, the world narrowing to that single sentence.
She did not have a moment to reply before the message disappeared—deleted, as if it never existed.
Thunder rumbled outside again, low but unmistakable, rolling across the skyline like a warning.
Lihua shut off her phone, its black screen reflecting her determined but disturbed face.
She told herself coincidence. Not a joke. A guess, made by someone who didn't know.
But as the rain began to fall once more, she could not rid herself of the feeling that every step she made was being watched.
And that somewhere in the shadows of the city, the story of that single dance wasn't over—it had simply found its rhythm.