Lin Yang lay on the soft, large bed of the guest room, having spent a nearly sleepless night.
The embers of his anger gradually cooled in the face of reality, leaving behind only a sense of powerlessness mixed with a trace of stubborn reluctance. With a single, casual remark, Li Chenzhou had completely extinguished the hope Lin Yang had worked so hard to kindle throughout his exhausting day of house hunting.
An apartment across the hall? Good security? A password that was their wedding date?
This wasn’t a suggestion; it was a notification. It was the demarcation of a new range of activity, a more sophisticated form of captivity. He could almost imagine Li Chenzhou’s face as he spoke that look of entitlement, of someone who controlled everything.
Should he resist? Should he refuse as firmly as he had rejected the black card yesterday? And then what? Remain in the main mansion, living cautiously under Li Chenzhou’s watchful eye, feeling that omnipresent oppression and restraint every moment? Or continue looking for apartments, only to be interrupted by “coincidences” and “accidents” again and again until he finally recognized reality?
As dawn broke, Lin Yang stared at the magnificent, cold crystal chandelier on the ceiling and made a decision to compromise temporarily. He would go to the apartment across the hall. It wasn’t a surrender; it was a strategic relocation. At least there, he would have an independent space that belonged entirely to him. He wouldn’t have to breathe the same air under the same roof as Li Chenzhou, nor worry about bumping into those cold, soul-piercing eyes every time he opened a door.
There, he could contact Sister So more freely, plan his next moves, and perhaps even find evidence of Li Chenzhou monitoring him. Yes, that was the plan. A temporary shelter to quietly gather his strength.
When he got up in the morning, his complexion was poor, with faint dark circles under his eyes. He was once again alone at the dining table. He finished his breakfast in silence and said to Butler Chen, “Please help me pack my things. I am moving to the apartment across the hall for a while.”
Butler Chen’s face showed no surprise, as if he had long expected this. He merely bowed respectfully. “Certainly, Mr. Lin. I will arrange for people to go over and clean up immediately.”
“No need to clean,” Lin Yang interrupted him. “I can do it myself. Just have my personal belongings and clothes sent over.”
He didn’t want anyone else touching that space, even if it was just a temporary base.
Half an hour later, Lin Yang stood at the door of the apartment. It was the same heavy security door, its digital lock glowing with a faint blue light. He took a deep breath and entered those four digits: 0907. With a soft beep, the door unlocked.
The moment he pushed the door open, Lin Yang froze. The cold, sterile model unit he had expected was nowhere to be found. Instead, he saw a space that was both high-design and exceptionally warm and comfortable. The overall tone was clean and bright with light colors; massive floor-to-ceiling windows drew in the sunlight, which spilled across a soft carpet.
The living room layout was simple but not monotonous. A few soft cushions that looked perfect for hugging were scattered on the sofa, next to a uniquely shaped floor lamp. The open kitchen was fully equipped with appliances, and on the polished countertop sat a set of coffee cups from his favorite Nordic brand.
He walked in hesitantly, putting on the soft slippers waiting at the entrance. The bookshelves in the study were a natural wood color and already held many books. A quick scan revealed that most were related to drama, film, and literature subjects he was interested in and there were even a few out-of-print old volumes.
The bedding in the bedroom was a comfortable light grey. The walk-in closet was more than half empty, as if waiting for its owner to move in. Even the toiletries in the bathroom were from the niche brand he usually used, carrying a faint scent of cedar. Every detail hit his preferences with precision.
This was by no means an accidentally vacant apartment.
Lin Yang stood in the center of the living room. Though the sun warmed him, he felt a chill rising from his feet. Li Chenzhou… what exactly was he trying to do? Reject his divorce, block his path to finding a house, and then prepare this “canary cage” that perfectly suited his tastes? Was it a slap followed by a sweet date? Or some more inscrutable game of control belonging to those in power?
He walked to the window and looked at the building opposite. From this angle, he could clearly see the window of the study in the main house. The feeling of being covered by an invisible gaze made him extremely uncomfortable. He abruptly pulled the sheer curtains shut.
It took him some time to organize the luggage that had been sent over. He hung his clothes in the closet, placed a few books he frequently read by the bed, and set his laptop on the desk. When he finished, the space finally had a bit more of his presence, but that feeling of being meticulously designed remained.
The first day passed peacefully. At dusk, he cooked himself a bowl of noodles. The taste was average, but at least it was a start to his independence.
On the second night, while he was curled up on the sofa reading a script, the doorbell suddenly rang. Lin Yang’s heart jumped. Who would come here? Butler Chen? Old Yang? Or…?
He walked to the door and looked out through the peephole. His heart skipped a beat. Li Chenzhou was standing outside. He seemed to have just returned from work, still wearing a perfectly tailored dark suit, though he wasn’t wearing a tie and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone. He looked a bit less sharp than during the day, with a touch of domestic casualness. However, the cold aura surrounding him still transmitted through the door.
Lin Yang hesitated, not wanting to open the door. The doorbell rang again, steady and persistent. He took a deep breath and finally turned the lock. He opened the door only a crack, not fully moving out of the way, and looked at the man outside. “Is something wrong?”
Li Chenzhou’s gaze fell on him then quickly moved away, scanning the living room behind him. His tone was flat, devoid of emotion. “We ran out of soy sauce at the house. The housekeeper has left for the day. Do you have any here?”
Lin Yang: “…?”
He almost doubted his own hearing. Li Chenzhou, a business tycoon whose meals were handled by specialists and who probably used a kitchen less than a few times a year, had come to knock on his door late at night to borrow soy sauce?
“No,” Lin Yang answered stiffly. “I don’t cook.” This was a half-truth; he didn’t do it often, but while organizing earlier, he thought he saw some new seasonings in the kitchen.
“Oh,” Li Chenzhou responded. There was no expression on his face, no embarrassment at being rejected, and no intention of leaving. His gaze seemed to drift into the room again before landing back on Lin Yang’s face. “Have the property management fees been paid?”
“I don’t know.” Lin Yang felt this conversation was incredibly bizarre. “Isn’t this house yours? Why are you asking me?”
“Right, I forgot,” Li Chenzhou replied smoothly, as if it were just a casual mention. “What time is the night patrol for the security here?”
“President Li,” Lin Yang couldn’t take it anymore, his voice carrying a hint of sarcasm. “You would get more accurate and faster answers to these questions by calling property management or your assistant, Cheng Wei. I am just a temporary resident.”
Li Chenzhou looked at him silently, his deep eyes appearing exceptionally dark in the hallway light. Just as Lin Yang thought he was going to get angry or turn to leave, he suddenly spoke, his voice low. “Are you getting used to living here?”
The topic shifted abruptly. Lin Yang was startled, and instinctively not wanting to give him satisfaction, he said coldly, “I’m not. It’s too small, nothing compared to the space of the main house.” He deliberately contradicted him, trying to provoke him or at least stop the bizarre questioning.
To his surprise, Li Chenzhou just nodded as if accepting the feedback and then threw out another question: “How is the light-blocking effect of the curtains?”
Lin Yang: “…Very good.” He couldn’t say they were bad; the quality of the sheer and thick curtains was clearly expensive.
“Good.” Li Chenzhou nodded again, his gaze seemingly sweeping quickly over Lin Yang’s cheek once more. “You don’t look well. Didn’t you sleep well?”
Lin Yang was finally certain: this man hadn’t come to borrow soy sauce or ask about property fees at all! He was coming up with excuses to knock on his door, observe his life, and check on his status! A sense of being offended and monitored welled up within him.
“Thanks to you, I slept very well.” Lin Yang set his face and pulled on the door to close it. “If President Li has nothing else, I’m going to rest. Goodnight.”
The door was halfway closed when it was stopped by a well-defined hand. Li Chenzhou’s palm was large, its strength unquestionable. He looked at Lin Yang through the closing gap, his gaze calm but carrying an invisible pressure.
“The door code,” he said suddenly, his voice low and clear through the crack. “If you don’t like it, you can change it.”
Lin Yang froze. Before he could respond, the hand released its grip. The door clicked shut, completely sealed. Outside, the sound of footsteps gradually faded. Lin Yang leaned his back against the cool door, his heart racing from that bizarre and tense conversation. What… was he trying to do?
On the third night, the doorbell rang again at almost the same time. This time, Lin Yang didn’t even bother looking through the peephole. He pulled the door open and looked expressionlessly at Li Chenzhou, who had indeed appeared again.
“Borrowing soy sauce again?” he spoke first, his tone clearly mocking.
Li Chenzhou seemed to be in a good mood today, the usual coldness and indifference in his eyes slightly softened. He held a thick kraft paper envelope. “Not borrowing,” he replied, then handed the envelope over. “Cheng Wei prepared an extra copy of the schedule and guest list for the upcoming charity gala. Take a look.”
Lin Yang didn’t take it. “I don’t need it. President Li, I told you, I won’t be participating in these…” He wanted to say “these roles Mrs. Li needs to play,” but swallowed the words.
“Take it.” Li Chenzhou seemed not to hear the refusal, his hand remaining extended, his gaze carrying an unquestionable persistence. Lin Yang didn’t want to argue at the door and could only take it in annoyance. The envelope was heavy.
“Anything else?” he asked, effectively dismissing him.
Li Chenzhou’s gaze bypassed him, landing on the half-eaten takeout box on the living room coffee table. His brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. “Is this what you’re eating?”
“What else?” Lin Yang shot back. “Is President Li going to cook himself?”
He meant it as sarcasm, but to his surprise, Li Chenzhou remained silent for two seconds then answered very seriously, “I could try.”
Lin Yang: “…?!” He nearly choked on his own saliva. Crazy. Li Chenzhou was absolutely crazy. Or perhaps Lin Yang himself hadn’t woken up yet.
“No. Thank. You!” he rejected word by word, trying to close the door again.
“Tomorrow night,” Li Chenzhou held the door again, his tone as natural as if he were scheduling a business meeting. “Accompany me back to the old mansion. My mother wants to see you.”
“We’ll see!” Lin Yang wanted to refuse, but Li Chenzhou didn’t give him the chance. Having finished speaking, he withdrew his hand and turned toward his own door opposite.
He left Lin Yang standing there holding the heavy envelope, looking at the slowly closing security door identical to his own his mind a complete mess. The nightly “harassment,” the nonsensical excuses, the stiff and abrupt concern, and the unavoidable arrangements… this man was far more unpredictable and unsettling than the purely cold Li Chenzhou in his memory.
He closed the door, locked it, and slid down to sit against it. The envelope in his arms pressed painfully against his chest. He suddenly remembered what Li Chenzhou had said: “The door code, if you don’t like it, you can change it.”
As if possessed, he walked to the digital lock and entered the modification program according to the instructions. The old code was 0907. He hesitated, his finger hovering over the keypad. Ultimately, he entered a new code, one entirely of his own making.
With a beep, the change was successful. He looked at the unfamiliar numbers. He didn’t feel much relief; instead, his heart felt even heavier. He knew that a small act of rebellion like changing a password was utterly futile against Li Chenzhou’s absolute control.