The winter wind howled against the reinforced glass of the Ye Estate, carrying with it a chill that seemed to seep into the very soul of the Capital. Inside, the grand foyer was a cathedral of light and anxiety. Lin Shuyin, the matriarch of the Ye family, stood near the fireplace, her hands trembling as she adjusted the collar of a custom-made silk coat she had prepared for a daughter she hadn't seen in twenty years. Beside her, Ye Shijun paced like a caged tiger, his eyes constantly flitting to the grandfather clock. They were a couple who held the city's economy in their palms, yet in this moment, they were merely two parents terrified of a stranger who shared their blood. In the shadows of the mezzanine, Ye Aurora watched them with a smile that never reached her cold, calculating eyes. To the Ye parents, she was the "Angel" who had filled the void of their lost child; to the secret organizations she served, she was a viper waiting to strike. "Mom, Dad, please calm down," Aurora said, her voice a polished chime of fake sympathy. "I know you want to make up for lost time, but sister was raised in the countryside. If you give her the Master Suite and the Phoenix Pavilion immediately, she might feel like a bird in a golden cage. I've already had the servants tidy up the garden cottage. It's smaller, more like what she's used to. We shouldn't overwhelm her with luxury she can't understand." Shuyin's head snapped up, her maternal instincts finally flaring through her naivety. "The garden cottage? Aurora, how can you say that? Your sister has spent twenty years in the cold! I don't care if she's used to a hut; she is the eldest daughter of this house. The Phoenix Pavilion is hers, and I have already moved the diamond collections into her vault. She will not be 'grounded,' she will be spoiled!" Aurora's jaw tightened, her porcelain mask nearly cracking. This was not the reaction she had manipulated them for. Before she could offer another "helpful" suggestion, the heavy oak doors of the mansion were pushed open.
There was no sound of a car engine, no footsteps on the gravel. Ye Wanwan simply appeared in the doorway as if the darkness itself had exhaled her. She wore a heavy, unbranded black coat and combat boots that had seen miles of earth. Her hair was a dark curtain against her pale, marble-like skin, and her eyes were two pools of obsidian that reflected absolutely nothing. She stood there, a single battered rucksack over her shoulder, looking at the gold-leafed ceiling with a clinical boredom that made the air in the room drop ten degrees. "Wanwan!" Shuyin let out a broken sob, rushing forward to pull the girl into a fierce embrace. Wanwan didn't recoil, but she didn't melt either. She stood as still as a statue, her body radiating a faint, unnatural coldness that made Shuyin shiver despite the roaring fireplace. "Mrs. Ye," Wanwan said, her voice a low, melodic silk that carried an edge of steel. "I believe your blood pressure is spiking. You should breathe before you faint." Shuyin pulled back, her eyes wide with tears. "Mrs. Ye? No, darling... I'm your mother." Wanwan tilted her head, her gaze shifting to Ye Shijun, her five elder brothers who had rushed into the hall, and then to Aurora. Her eyes lingered on Aurora for a fraction of a second longer—a gaze so sharp it felt like a blade pressing against Aurora's throat. "Mother is a title earned through time, not biology," Wanwan stated calmly. "For now, the DNA test is the only bridge between us. Let's not rush the architecture of a relationship that hasn't been built." Shijun stepped forward, his heart aching at the sheer distance in her voice. "You're right. We will earn it. Come, your room is ready. Everything you ever missed is waiting for you." As they led her up the stairs, Aurora tried to reach for Wanwan's bag, hoping to find some evidence of a "peasant" lifestyle. "Let me help, Sister—" Wanwan's hand caught Aurora's wrist mid-air. The grip was like an iron shackle, and the coldness of Wanwan's skin was so intense it felt like a thermal burn. Wanwan leaned in, her voice a ghost of a whisper that only Aurora could hear. "I don't like people touching my things, and I certainly don't like vipers in my peripheral vision. Keep your hands to yourself, or I might accidentally forget my manners."
While the family drama unfolded, a silent observer sat in the darkened library on the second floor, the glow of a tablet screen illuminating a face of rugged, dangerous perfection. Lu Zhentian, the man whose name caused tremors in both the business world and the dark alleys of the underworld, sat with his eyes fixed on the security feed. He had come for a meeting, but he had stayed because his "High-Heat" metabolism was reacting to a presence downstairs. He felt his own burning skin finally cooling as that girl walked into the house. He tapped a key on his encrypted laptop. "Report," he muttered. His top intelligence officer's voice came through the earpiece. "Master Lu, it's impossible. We've run her prints, her facial recognition, and her DNA through every global database. We found her birth record and her 'disappearance' at age six. After that... nothing. There is a fourteen-year gap where Ye Wanwan does not exist. No school records, no medical history, no digital footprint. She reappeared three months ago in a small village in the North, working as a local herbalist. That's all." Zhentian's golden eyes darkened with a predatory intrigue. A fourteen-year void? In his world, that only meant one thing: she had been somewhere even his reach couldn't touch. He watched the screen as Wanwan walked into the Phoenix Pavilion. He saw her scan the room, her eyes instantly identifying the hidden cameras he had installed for the Ye family's protection. She didn't disable them; she simply walked to a blind spot and stayed there, disappearing from his view. Zhentian felt a sharp, electric pull in his chest—a hunger he had never experienced. His blood, usually a source of agonizing heat, hummed in anticipation. "A ghost with no past and the eyes of a god," Zhentian whispered, a dark, shameless smile tugging at his lips. He watched her every move, the way she dismissed the luxury and the way she observed her so-called family with the precision of a predator. He knew he wouldn't stay in the shadows for long. The recognition banquet was only three days away, and he could already imagine the look on her frozen face when he stepped into the light to claim her. "Enjoy your peace for now, Ye Wanwan," he breathed, the name tasting like smoke and winter. "Because in three days, the whole world will know that you belong to me."