23:30. The minute hand sank to the very bottom.
Inside the grand hall of the Lan family’s old residence, the lights were as bright as day.
The light from the crystal chandelier dropped down from above, so intense that it was almost possible to see the fuzz on the carpet. In the brightness, the ceiling felt particularly low and oppressive, pressing down on their heads, perfectly sealed, and even their breathing felt constrained.
The servants stood respectfully on both sides, hunched over with their necks pulled in, not daring to breathe loudly.
In the center of the hall, a woman in a black dress was kneeling. Her right hand was wrapped in a bandage, and her body was covered in whip marks, one red welt running from her cheek to her neck like a centipede.
A few other people were sparsely kneeling or standing around, positioned between her and the main entrance, cutting off her line of sight, but not the pungent smell of blood.
At the main entrance, a woman silently brought her black and gold smart wheelchair to a stop. Dressed in a pure white suit, a lead-grey thin blanket rested on her legs. She leaned lazily against the back of the chair, her hair tied back, a pair of gold-rimmed glasses on her nose, the lenses thin as blades, slicing off humanity’s last shred of kindness.
It was the eternally frozen snow, the ice sealed away in a thousand mountains, cold to the extreme.
“Mr. Lan.”
The cold, sharp eyes slowly lifted under the chandelier, the pupils unmoving, settling on that old, calculated face, generating an instant chill.
“I am the ‘mistress’ you spoke of.”
The words landed, like hail piercing the floor.
Lan Haotian flinched, then quickly plastered on a smile, his hands clasped as he flattered:
“Haha, this, well, Mr. Huo, it’s a misunderstanding, Mr. Huo.”
The others chimed in:
“Mr. Huo, a misunderstanding, a misunderstanding.”
“We were talking about someone else!”
“Mr. Huo, what brings you here?”
The desolate hall was clearly full of people, yet it felt like an unused stadium, terrifyingly quiet. A cascade of words thrown out even carried an echo.
Lan Haotian put on a shameless face and tentatively stepped forward:
“You and my daughter… do you two know each other?”
Buzz…
The answer he received was the even rolling sound of the wheelchair moving across the floor. Huo Yan seemed not to hear his words, passing indifferently through the Lan family’s long wall of bowing people, stopping in front of the black-dressed woman sitting on the ground.
A hand reached out to her, opening up in the light of the crystal chandelier, the back of the hand facing down, the palm facing up, catching a full measure of light.
Lan Su was startled for a moment. Her battered body slowly sat up, her eyes focused on the open palm before her. The slender lines of the palm were like the texture of silk, concealing an inherent air of languor. An inch of cuff peeked out from the sleeve, the luster of the metal cufflink reflecting a trace of softness.
Her gaze moved up to the fabric folds where the arm was slightly bent.
Further up was the face itself.
The eyes were deep, like a bottomless well, ready to suck everyone in.
Gentle?
No, that word could not possibly appear in connection with Huo Yan.
But setting aside her nature, in the light of the crystal chandelier, there appeared a rare trace of divinity about this person.
An immortal stroked my crown, bestowing long life by binding my hair.
That kind of divinity.
Lan Su slowly raised her hand. Her slightly cool fingers settled into the palm, and she used the leverage to stand up. The long black dress rustled softly as it brushed the floor.
“A-Yan.”
She called out.
Huo Yan twitched an eyebrow. Clearly, this affectionate address was too intimate, stinging her like a needle. But she did not object, merely raising the person up lightly.
“My mistake, only sending you to the door. I didn’t think home would be more dangerous.”
She then placed her hand back on the armrest of the wheelchair, her index finger tapping it lightly.
Thud!
The hall was utterly silent at this moment, and the sound of the fingernail hitting the metal was especially jarring. Lan Haotian behind her shuddered, then hurriedly circled to the front, shrinking his neck and offering an apologetic smile.
“Mr. Huo.”
Huo Yan looked straight ahead, not at Lan Haotian. She glanced at the horse whip curled up on the floor and said coldly:
“I’d heard the Lan family’s house rules were strict, keeping Ming Dynasty customs in the 21st century. I just didn’t expect such heavy hands would be used against your own biological daughter.”
The flesh on Lan Haotian’s face twitched—the Jade Yama had clearly come to stand up for Lan Su.
“Mr. Huo, you exaggerate. My daughter indeed acted outrageously today, and I was so angry that I hit her a couple of times. I don’t usually resort to physical punishment.”
He then gestured to a nearby servant:
“Xiao Hong, take Miss to get treatment.”
Xiao Hong nervously stepped forward, but Lan Su remained motionless. Xiao Hong retracted the hand she was about to use to pull her, looking at Lan Haotian for help. The latter waved his hand irritably and helplessly, and the servant backed down.
Huo Yan sat still, like a cold statue. The circle of people around her were like ants in a hot pot, moving around her, yet she remained utterly unmoved.
“It’s understandable that Mr. Lan acted out of anger. But to specifically aim the whip at her face, one might think Lan Su is not your biological daughter.”
Boom!
The words landed like a sudden clap of thunder, splitting a crack in the floor. Black smoke oozed from the fissure, creeping and spreading across the entire hall.
“Mr. Huo, you must be joking.”
Lan Haotian relied on his years of business experience to smooth over the situation.
“I’m old now, and I couldn’t control my strength. You see, I thought she’d gone out and met some unsavory people, and I was worried she’d go astray—this is me being an anxious father. Besides… this, ultimately, is still our Lan family’s private matter.”
Couldn’t control my strength—I didn’t intend to hit her face.
Met some unsavory people—You, Huo Yan, dating my daughter without informing her parents, how is that different from a vulgar hooligan?
Lan family’s private matter—I rule the Lan family; you, a Huo, have no right to interfere.
Huo Yan caught every one of those three unspoken meanings without fail.
But, she merely listened.
Though young, Lan Haotian was still caught up in mistresses’ gossip while she was navigating the storms and bloodshed of Southeast Asia.
Her lips moved, and she said:
“Miss Lan Su is now a member of my Huo family.”
“What?”
All the Lan family members were stunned. The madam, Chu Meilian, couldn’t hold back and stepped forward:
“Mr. Huo, you must be mistaken?”
To the side, Lan Su spoke softly:
“Mom.”
She looked at the middle-aged woman she usually called “Madam,” and continued:
“I know you are not happy. But I, Lan Su, am the rightful Second Miss of the Lan family.”
With this statement, she blocked off any retreat for Lan Haotian and the others—Huo Yan had always intended to marry the Second Miss Lan. The originally planned substitute, Lan Xiaoyu, was locked upstairs, and downstairs there was only Lan Shan. They couldn’t possibly claim Lan Su was crazy and that she called herself the Second Miss.
However, Lan Su absolutely could not be married off.
What kind of person was Huo Yan? She grew up in the chaos of Southeast Asia, was ruthless, and cold-hearted, and has had the nickname “Jade Yama” since returning home at 18. If she discovered that the person married into her family was not the Lan family’s daughter but the Lan family’s “tool,” the entire Lan family would face total disaster.
Moreover, Lan Haotian still needed this tool to sell more lives.
“Mr. Huo.”
After weighing the situation, Lan Haotian shamelessly stepped forward, discussing, “This daughter of mine has been spoiled. Please don’t take it to heart. She is actually the Third Miss. The Second Miss is someone else, she is upstairs. I will call her down for you.”
Saying this, he signaled a servant with his eyes to go upstairs and call Lan Xiaoyu.
Thump, thump, thump…
The sound of hurried footsteps climbed the stairs, but the silent Huo Yan spoke again, not to anyone in particular, but simply making a flat, slow, declarative statement:
“The Second Miss Lan suffered a sudden change at the age of 9 and fell into a coma. This year, she is exactly 20. Since Mr. Lan can’t seem to remember who the Second Miss is, I can help.”
Buzz… Buzz…
The grandfather clock in the hall struck 12 o’clock exactly, signaling the end of the 31st.
“Mr. Huo, what do you mean?” Lan Haotian asked, steeling himself.
“Do you know how to measure age?”
Huo Yan turned her head, looking for the first time at Lan Haotian’s twitching, shriveled tree-bark of a face. Her thin lips tightened, and the glasses reflected a cold gleam.
“All you need is a tooth.”
“A, a tooth?”
“Since Mr. Lan can’t remember, let’s pull the teeth of all the women in the Lan family and send them to a lab for testing. Whichever one is the Second Miss, I will marry. How about that?”
Her words were unhurried, like a sharp blade forged in winter, buried in the snow all night. With a hiss, it plunged into the blood-flowing heart. What was even more terrifying was her merciful addition:
“For each person, I only need one.”
A heavy hammer smashed the floor, one blow after another, first a crack, then it widened, deepened, until it tore completely open, and everyone plunged into the abyss.
In the midst of the desert and ruins, Lan Su stirred. She looked up at the line of Lan family members standing there. Lan Haotian was furious but dared not speak, Chu Meilian was glaring at her, and Lan Shan should have been happy to see this spectacle, yet for some unknown reason, her eyes held jealousy and resentment.
She savored the exquisite expressions of the three, looking from left to right, and then from right to left, and said softly:
“A-Yan and I are deeply in love, Dad, you wouldn’t oppose this, would you?”
Tick, tick, tick…
The hands of the pendulum clock turned second by second. The mechanism seemed to be stuck, each second making a jarring, halting sound.
At this point, the Lan family finally had nothing to say. Huo Yan raised her hand, and the assistant behind her placed a ring box in her hand.
“In that case, this marriage is settled. This is the betrothal gift.”
Lan Su took the heavy box, clutching it tightly in her palm, her knuckles white from the strain.
Compared to the Lan family, the rumored “Jade Yama,” Huo Yan, who was said to be wrapped in blood and chaos, seemed more terrifying. However, this Jade Yama was her only hope to be pulled out of the abyss.
Even if it meant leaping into another abyss, she would embrace it willingly.