She was not a cat; she was a leopard lurking in the dark, waiting for an opportunity to strike.
At their first meeting, Lan Su’s arm was cut by a six-centimeter-long wound, neither too long nor too short. To prevent scarring, the doctor stitched it up with over twenty meticulous sutures.
Mindful of her persona as a “young lady of means,” she tried hard to emit a delicate cry:
“It hurts.”
But her acting was clumsy, like a bloodless, fleshless ragdoll, moaning without genuine illness.
Huo Yan did not speak. She slightly raised her chin, her glasses reflecting the light, concealing her gaze: “Miss Lan has suffered.”
She lifted a slender finger and called her assistant: “Go get the clothing.”
Lan Su’s dress was stained with scattered, horrifying blood spots.
By coincidence, Huo Yan had a newly arrived piece of couture in her car, also a dress.
Half an hour later, Lan Su emerged from the changing room.
This time, she did not have to deliberately cater to the jarring pink, nor did she have to unnaturally hunch her back to hide her cleavage. Instead, she wore a long dress with a single slit, delicate spaghetti straps, and a subtly V-shaped neckline that only revealed her collarbone. The skirt split from her thigh, allowing a glimpse of her straight, long legs as she walked.
Black was the color of security. The moment she put it on, her tight shoulder blades relaxed, and every cell found comfort in a peaceful harbor.
Indeed, she still preferred black.
“It’s too dark.”
The assistant whispered secretly,
“Sister Yan, the Lan family’s daughter is a kitten; she should still wear pink. Black is too gloomy, like a mob boss.”
Huo Yan removed her glasses, wiped the dust from the lenses with a cloth, put them back on, and looked at the figure outside the car. The person in the black dress had a snow-white bandage wrapped around her arm. Her thin lips moved slightly.
“She is not a kitten.”
She was a leopard with sharp fangs. A moment of carelessness would result in a throat full of blood.
The midsummer night was unusually lively, with the chirping of insects and the calls of birds, sounds rising and falling in succession.
However, as they drove into the villa area halfway up the mountain, everything quieted down, as if someone had tossed all creation into the deep sea, utterly silent.
Two people sat in the back seat. On the left was Lan Su in the black long dress, and on the right, the original leather seat had been removed to make space for Huo Yan’s wheelchair.
“Regarding the marriage, I still want to ask CEO Huo to reconsider.”
The driver helped open the car door. Before getting out, Lan Su made one last attempt.
Huo Yan sat beside her: “Miss Lan does not want to marry?”
Lan Su paused. The image of Lan Xiaoyu’s tear-streaked, helpless face flashed through her mind, and she nodded:
“That’s right.”
Huo Yan turned to look at her, a hint of playfulness surfacing on her stern face:
“What if I insist on taking what I want?”
Lan Su lowered her eyes, her raven-like lashes casting a shadow that obscured her expression:
“Why must CEO Huo make things difficult for a weak woman like me?”
Tap, tap, tap…
Both fell into a prolonged silence. Huo Yan’s hand rested on the armrest of the wheelchair, her index finger curved, tapping rhythmically.
Her eyes narrowed slightly behind the lenses, scrutinizing Lan Su’s profile from top to bottom. All she saw was a chilling indifference.
Such an aura could not belong to a delicate hothouse flower.
She was certain that Lan Su was hiding a secret.
More than one.
“In any case, thank you, Miss Lan, for helping me today. We’ll discuss the engagement another day.”
For the first time, she made a concession.
When Lan Su returned, Aunt Zhang secretly helped her open the door.
The Lan family had trained her to be an enforcer and forbade her from seeing guests privately. Therefore, she had to sneak in.
But, the moment her hand touched the handle of the bedroom door, she felt cold all over.
“Ah! Ah…”
Urgent gasps, along with a voice that was all too familiar, came from inside the room.
“Xiaoyu, you smell so good…”
“Sister Shan, you, you go a little slower!”
“If I go slower, Xiaoyu will complain about me again.”
“You, you’re so bad! Be careful, Dad and the others might hear!”
Lan Su stood outside the door, the fingers on the doorknob beginning to tremble like a sieve.
It turned out that Lan Xiaoyu’s words from last night—”I have someone I like”—when refusing the engagement, were true. Only that person was none other than the Lan family’s eldest daughter, Lan Shan.
Her trembling hand stiffly pulled back. She turned on her heel, wanting to flee, but then heard something even more sordid.
“Are you really going to let big sister marry Huo Yan?” Lan Xiaoyu asked.
Big sister, yes, Lan Xiaoyu’s biological big sister was no one else but her, Lan Su.
“Yes.” Lan Shan’s answer was matter-of-fact. “She’ll agree for the sake of repaying the debt.”
“But you weren’t the one who saved her in Vietnam that year.”
“What does it matter? It’s enough as long as she thinks I was.”
This was followed by Lan Xiaoyu’s high-pitched, delicate scream, seemingly reaching a climax.
After a slight reprieve, she seemed to have a pang of conscience and hesitated:
“This is too cruel to big sister. You’ve been lying to her all this time… I’m going to tell her that she can’t marry Huo Yan just to repay a debt. Huo Yan has had three dead wives; I don’t want her to die!”
Footsteps sounded from the bedside, stumbling towards the door, but Lan Shan called out to stop her.
“Xiaoyu.”
The voice was hoarse, calm, and heartless:
“If she doesn’t marry, it will be you. The Huo family is a den of vice. Do you want to go?”
Sure enough, Lan Xiaoyu hesitated. Even through the door, Lan Su could feel the tremble:
“I… I…”
Lan Shan said word by word: “This world is cannibalistic. If you don’t sacrifice someone else, you’ll have to sacrifice yourself. Xiaoyu, you need to think clearly about what to do.”
After the words fell, Lan Xiaoyu’s muffled sobs could be heard, repeatedly saying that she didn’t want to die, that she was afraid.
Across the door, Lan Su stood alone, her black long dress immensely dark, enveloping her like a shadow, extinguishing the last flicker of fire in her heart.
Even if Lan Xiaoyu had just said, is there any way to save big sister?
Even just one sentence.
Clack.
A key turned, and the bedroom door opened from the outside.
This person was none other than the one being discussed by the lovers in bed, the one they were preparing to throw into the fire: Lan Su.
She was different from usual. Her face no longer held the restrained, patient, humble, and subservient emotions that were typically associated with her role as an enforcer.
At this moment, she was furious and sinister, like an emissary of death sent from the underworld, ready to tear the two people inside to shreds.
At 11 PM, the Lan family villa was brightly lit.
Everyone inside and outside the entire building was called out, standing in two straight lines in the living room.
In the center of the living room, on a soft chair facing the door, Lan Haotian sat with his legs spread apart, one hand resting on his thigh, the other gripping a whip.
On the right side, Lan Shan and Lan Xiaoyu knelt on the ground. Lan Xiaoyu was huddled and trembling, while Lan Shan had two whip marks on her body.
“Dad, do you really believe Lan Su and not me? I’m your biological daughter!”
Lan Shan questioned, a hint of fragility showing on her arrogant face.
Lan Xiaoyu trembled as she hid behind Lan Shan. “Dad, I, I really didn’t do anything with Sister Shan! Big sister is lying! She doesn’t want me to marry Huo Yan, she’s lying!”
The fact that the whip hadn’t landed on her yet indicated that Lan Haotian still believed her.
“Don’t think I don’t know what you did.”
Lan Haotian’s eyebrows sank, squeezing out deep wrinkles. He looked at Lan Xiaoyu as if she were an animal, then continued:
“The reason I’m not hitting you is that I’m taking you to see Huo Yan this weekend.”
When that name dropped, the hall fell silent, as if the King of Hell had descended, ready to swallow everything whole.
The aged voice was like an old bronze bell:
“I made three phone calls and arranged six times before Huo Yan agreed to meet you on Saturday. These next few days, you will stay here quietly and honestly.”
With a raised hand, the butler understood and called two strong servants to lock Lan Xiaoyu back in her bedroom.
During this time, Lan Shan did not plead for her.
After all, one wrong word would earn her another lash.
In front, Lan Su, in her black dress, knelt upright, with several whip marks on her body. Unlike Lan Shan, the lashes that fell on her did not avoid sensitive areas, deliberately striking parts not covered by clothing: her neck, arms, shoulders, and even a livid red mark on her cheek.
“Tell me, who did you go to see, dressed like that?”
Lan Haotian was wearing pajamas, the blue veins on his graying temples prominent.
Lan Su remained silent. The wound on her forearm was throbbing painfully, but not as much as the lash on her face.
This single lash had shattered her dignity as a human being.
A moment later, she slowly raised her head, looking without fear at the enraged Lan Haotian:
“Seven years ago, the one who saved me in Vietnam was not Lan Shan.”
“Regardless of whether it was or wasn’t,” Lan Haotian suppressed his anger, “the Lan family is still your savior. You were homeless back then, and I took you in.”
“Over the years, I’ve been injured for the Lan family, taken the knife, been shot, and escaped death countless times. The debt of gratitude has long been repaid.”
This challenge touched Lan Haotian’s raw nerve. He swung the whip, landing it on Lan Su’s neck and forcing the thin person to one side.
Smack! Smack!
Two more lashes landed heavily on her back.
“Repaid? What do you think you repaid it with! Or do you think your wings have grown strong, you’ve found a high branch to climb, and you can soar to success now, is that it!”
Lan Haotian cursed and stood up, hitting Lan Su as if she were a disobedient dog.
Chu Meilian was especially delighted to see his anger. After all, the old man was venting all his rage on Lan Su, which meant her daughter, Lan Shan, could escape punishment.
So, she fanned the flames:
“Honey, calm down. Lan Su is nineteen now. Maybe she has someone she likes and went on a date.”
The word ‘date’ exploded in Lan Haotian’s mind.
He stopped in front of Lan Su, speaking from a position of condescension:
“I told you, you are a knife for the Lan family. Except for when you have a mission, you are not allowed to show your face publicly.”
The body lying on the ground stirred, slowly straightening its spine. The hem of the skirt rustled against the floor, a sound like wind blowing through wheat.
She raised her head again. Beneath her falling hair, her eyes were like blades:
“I am not a knife.”
“You!”
Lan Haotian was about to raise the whip again but was stopped by Lan Shan.
“Dad. There’s a car stopped outside. It brought Lan Su back.”
Chu Meilian quickly agreed: “Honey, why don’t we call the person in? If it’s really Lan Su’s lover, it’ll be good to make things clear so they stop associating. If it’s some unreliable hoodlum, a little lesson will keep him quiet in the future.”
Clang!
Lan Haotian threw the whip to the ground and cursed:
“Aunt Zhang, open the door! I want to see which little brat dares to mess with someone from my Lan family!”
He looked down, contemptuously addressing Lan Su:
“You just watch and see if your paramour still wants to be with you when he sees you like this!”
A moment later, the main door opened, and a figure in a wheelchair appeared before everyone. Lan Haotian was so startled he slumped back into his chair.
The white suit was remarkably conspicuous under the lights, like a block of ice sealed by snow for many years. Upon dropping into the pond, it did not melt, but instead froze the surroundings, spreading frost for a thousand miles.
Huo Yan slightly raised her chin and stopped in the center of the hall. Her gaze swept over the scene and landed on Lan Su, who was curled up on the ground with whip marks covering her body.
Looking up again, Lan Haotian’s old face had turned from anger to fear, before he squeezed out a look of false flattery.
“CEO Huo, CEO Huo, why is it you?”
Huo Yan’s head moved slightly, her glasses reflecting a blinding light:
“Mr. Lan, it’s a pleasure. I am that ‘paramour.'”
Behind the crowd, the person who had been curled up on the floor propped herself up to sit. She looked through the gaps in the crowd towards the doorway and called out calmly:
“A-Yan, you’re here.”
—You can also call me ‘A-Yan.’
—CEO Huo.