The declaration hung in the air like a thunderclap that refused to fade. For the guests in the ballroom, it was as if the world had shifted on its axis; the "Living Asura" of the Lu family, a man who had treated the very concept of marriage with lethal contempt, was now standing in the middle of the Ye Estate, gripping the hand of a "country girl" as if she were the most precious treasure in his empire. The silence that followed was thick with the scent of scandal and the metallic tang of Lu Zhentian's overwhelming aura. Aurora felt the blood drain from her face, her heart hammering against her ribs with a frantic, ugly rhythm. How? she screamed internally. He wouldn't even look at me for three years! Why is he claiming this peasant after one glance? She took a step forward, her voice trembling with a carefully constructed fragility. "Master Lu, surely there is a mistake. This engagement... it was meant to be a formal arrangement, and Sister has only just returned. She doesn't understand our world. You shouldn't force her into such a heavy burden so soon."
Zhentian didn't even turn his head to acknowledge Aurora's existence. His eyes remained anchored to Wanwan's, a dark, predatory heat swirling in his golden pupils. "A burden?" Zhentian's voice was a low, dangerous rumble that vibrated through Wanwan's palm. "Being my woman is a privilege that the rest of you aren't qualified to even whisper about." He tightened his grip, his thumb brushing over Wanwan's knuckles in a gesture that was both possessive and strangely protective. Wanwan felt the heat of his skin seeping into her frozen marrow, a sensation so foreign and intrusive that her first instinct was to strike him. She looked at him, her obsidian eyes narrowed into two sharp blades. "Master Lu," she said, her voice a cool, detached silk. "I don't recall agreeing to be anyone's property. If you want a fiancé, I suggest you look for someone who actually has a pulse for you. My blood doesn't boil for anyone."
"It will," Zhentian whispered, leaning down until his lips were just inches from her ear, his breath hot against her cold skin. "Your blood is already reacting to mine, little Phoenix. You can lie to the world, but you can't lie to the heat in your chest." Before Wanwan could retract her hand, her five brothers swarmed forward, forming a wall of muscle and suppressed fury between her and the Lu patriarch. Ye Mo, the eldest, stepped into Zhentian's personal space, his eyes burning with the cold fire of a CEO who was used to crushing opponents. "Lu Zhentian, get your hands off my sister. Engagement or not, the Ye family does not sell its daughters to beasts. We are going to the study. Now. We will settle this like men, and if you touch her again, I'll ensure the Lu Corporation's stocks hit the floor by sunrise."
Zhentian let out a dark, mocking laugh, but surprisingly, he let go of Wanwan's hand. He straightened his suit jacket, looking at the five brothers as if they were nothing more than annoying gnats. "Fine. Let's talk," Zhentian said, his eyes flicking back to Wanwan for a split second, softening with a shameless, lovesick intensity that made the surrounding socialites gasp in disbelief. "Wanwan, wait for me. I'll be back to take you home—and by home, I mean my villa." He turned and followed the five fuming brothers toward the private study, his stride arrogant and effortless. As soon as the men disappeared, the atmosphere in the ballroom shifted from terror to a high-pitched frenzy of gossip. Aurora saw her opening. She knew she had lost the "engagement" battle for the night, but she could still destroy Wanwan's reputation before the guests left.
"Sister," Aurora said, approaching Wanwan with a handkerchief pressed to her eyes as if she were crying for her. "I'm so sorry. Master Lu is... difficult. But don't worry, everyone knows you didn't mean to attract such a dangerous man. It's just your country manners; you don't know how to reject people properly." She turned to the crowd, her voice rising. "Actually, perhaps the excitement has been too much for our guests. Auntie Shen," she called out to an elderly matriarch of a rival family, "I noticed you've been coughing. Sister Wanwan studied herbal medicine in the village, didn't you, Sister? Why don't you show everyone your 'skills' by helping Auntie Shen? I'm sure a little grass and roots can't hurt." It was a trap. Auntie Shen was known to have a chronic, incurable lung condition that the best doctors in the country couldn't touch. If Wanwan tried and failed, she would be branded a fraud and a "quack" in front of the entire medical board members present at the banquet.
Wanwan looked at Auntie Shen, then at the smirk hidden behind Aurora's handkerchief. She could see the grey tint to the older woman's skin and the way her breath rattled in her chest—it wasn't just a cough; it was a blockage of the 'Spirit Gate' meridian, aggravated by the heavy perfumes in the room. "I don't practice for theater," Wanwan said coldly. "But if I don't act, that woman will stop breathing in exactly forty-five seconds." The crowd gasped, some laughing at the "arrogance" of the statement. Aurora chuckled softly. "Sister, there's no need to be dramatic. Auntie Shen has the best specialists—" Suddenly, Auntie Shen's eyes rolled back. She let out a choked gasp and collapsed onto the marble floor, her face turning a terrifying shade of purple. The room erupted into chaos. "Call an ambulance! Someone find a doctor!"
Wanwan didn't wait. She moved with a speed that defied human reaction. In one second she was ten feet away; in the next, she was kneeling over Auntie Shen. Her hand blurred as she reached into the hidden lining of her charcoal sleeve, pulling out a single, shimmering silver needle. "Stay back," Wanwan commanded, her voice carrying a weight of authority that silenced the room. She didn't use a stethoscope. She didn't check the pulse. She simply drove the needle into a specific point at the base of the woman's throat. Aurora's eyes widened. Is she trying to kill her? But as the needle sank in, a faint, hissing sound escaped the woman's lips. Wanwan twisted the needle with a rhythmic precision, her cold fingers stabilizing the woman's erratic temperature.
Within seconds, the purple tint vanished. Auntie Shen let out a deep, gasping breath and opened her eyes, her lungs finally clear for the first time in years. The medical board members in the crowd stood frozen, their eyes fixed on the silver needle in Wanwan's hand. "That... that's the 'Heavenly Breath' technique," one elderly doctor whispered, his voice shaking. "Only the legendary Master of the Silver Needle knows that... but that person is a ghost, a myth!" Wanwan stood up, hiding the needle back in her sleeve before anyone could get a closer look. She looked at the stunned Aurora and the silent crowd. "She's fine. Give her water, not champagne."
At that moment, the doors of the study burst open. The five brothers walked out, looking exhausted and frustrated, followed by a smug-looking Lu Zhentian. Zhentian's eyes instantly found Wanwan. He didn't care about the medical emergency or the crowd's shock. He walked straight up to her, ignoring the "Keep Away" glares from her brothers, and draped his own heavy, warm coat over her shoulders. "I heard a commotion," Zhentian said, his voice dropping into that shameless, lovesick purr. "Did someone bother you? Should I flatten the hotel?" Wanwan looked at the coat, then at the man whose presence felt like a sun trapped in a suit. "I'm fine. I was just leaving." Zhentian grinned, a flash of white teeth in the dim light. "Perfect. I'll walk you to your room. And don't worry about your brothers—I've convinced them that I'm the only heater you'll ever need." He leaned in closer, his voice a low hum. "By the way, that needlework was sexy. My heart is beating a bit fast, Wanwan... care to check my pulse in private?"