At dawn, when the sky was just beginning to lighten, the lights outside the Xia family residence turned on. Urgent knocking sounded at the door, sharp enough to make one’s heart jump.
“Knock, knock… knock knock knock…!”
The old side room smelled of damp mold mixed with agarwood incense. Xia Xunqian got up, put on his clothes, and opened the door.
Standing outside was Old Master Xia. Under the dim light, his face looked dark and tired, his breathing long and uneven.
Old Master Xia grabbed Xia Xunqian’s hand, his voice full of urgency.
“Hurry! Mr. Feng is arriving in Youdi today. I’m taking you to meet him!”
“It’s not even daylight yet,” Xia Xunqian said, frowning as he looked around.
“It’s bright already, it’s about to be,” Old Master Xia insisted.
“It takes an hour by car. Change into something nicer. I’ll wait for you at the door.” His tone was rushed and anxious.
Xia Xunqian pressed his lips together and went back inside to change. He put on a white shirt—one Old Master Xia had secretly given him on his birthday.
The moment he stepped over the threshold, Old Master Xia pulled him straight into the car.
The winding mountain road made his head feel dizzy. After an hour, the car stopped in front of an imposing courtyard.
The courtyard was several times larger than the Xia residence.
Above the entrance were the words: Feng Family Ancestral Hall.
This was the first time Xia Xunqian saw Feng Lin.
A fine rain was falling. Water streamed down from the eaves like thin threads, layer after layer, endless. Standing there, the wind brought a sharp chill.
Feng Lin was tall, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. He stood straight in a well-fitted suit, his wide shoulders giving off an unmoving strength, like he could withstand any storm.
In truth, Xia Xunqian didn’t clearly see what Feng Lin looked like.
This was the first time he felt that some people truly looked frightening. The pressure and dominance they gave off caused fear without reason.
When Xia Xunqian got out of the car, he saw Feng Lin holding a black umbrella and walking into the ancestral hall.
Feng Lin noticed him. Beneath the umbrella, his eyes were dark, like a deep abyss.
A little rabbit who trembled from just one look—Feng Lin didn’t like that.
In this society, people who had to rely on others just to survive were useless.
Feng Lin’s gaze was icy. Xia Xunqian lowered his head slightly and didn’t look up.
At that moment, Old Master Xia got out of the car and pulled Xia Xunqian toward the hall.
“I’m close with the Feng elders. Go light some incense as well.”
Xia Xunqian understood what Old Master Xia meant and followed him inside.
Inside the ancestral hall, thin smoke drifted through the air. The smell of incense lingered, as if offerings were burned here year-round.
Xia Xunqian looked at Feng Lin’s back. It was solid and heavy, making people afraid to get too close.
Xia Xunqian lit a stick of incense and bowed.
His expression was calm.
Feng Lin placed his incense into the burner and watched Xia Xunqian’s stiff, proper movements.
The boy was good-looking—so good-looking it was hard to describe. Pretty, delicate, beautiful, soft, obedient, not quite like a man—any of those words could describe Xia Xunqian.
Standing there like this, he was the kind of man other men would desire.
His refined features were so striking that even Feng Lin, who had seen countless people, remembered him at a glance.
There was a small black mole on one side of Xia Xunqian’s nose, just below his eye. Wisps of hair fell over it, making him look especially pitiful.
Feng Lin narrowed his dark eyes slightly.
His face was cold as he examined Xia Xunqian.
Feng Lin’s voice was restrained yet sensual. One question made Xia Xunqian’s throat go dry.
“What’s your name?”
Old Master Xia had told him before, but Feng Lin hadn’t paid attention.
Old Master Xia had begged Feng Lin—begged that after his death, Feng Lin would give Xia Xunqian a stable place to live.
Old debts between elders were being pushed onto Feng Lin to repay, and he hadn’t wanted that.
But it didn’t matter. The Feng family could spare a room easily. It was enough to support an idle person.
After bowing, Xia Xunqian placed the incense into the burner. He looked faintly toward Feng Lin, still unable to see his face clearly.
“Xia… Xunqian,” he said softly.
Feng Lin lowered his gaze. The person in front of him was a bit short—just reaching his shoulder.
“How old are you this year?”
“Are you an adult?”
Xia Xunqian’s eyes shifted slightly, his lips moving.
“I’m an adult.”
“Mr. Feng, Xunqian is nineteen this year,” Old Master Xia added.
Feng Lin’s expression remained indifferent. He spoke to Xia Xunqian, his dark eyes intimidating.
“Do you know why your father brought you here?”
Xia Xunqian clenched his fists.
“I know.”
He knew.
He knew why Old Master Xia sent him here, and he knew what he was supposed to do.
A faint smile appeared at the corner of Feng Lin’s lips as he turned and walked out of the ancestral hall.
Old Master Xia pulled Xia Xunqian along behind him.
Four bodyguards dressed in black stood at the entrance. When Feng Lin stepped out, one of them opened the black umbrella. The fine rain hit their faces, but it didn’t hurt.
Old Master Xia patted Xia Xunqian’s shoulder.
“Go take a walk with Mr. Feng.”
Xia Xunqian stepped over the threshold. The Xia residence was a place that devoured people. As a sickly person, he would never escape it. This felt like fate.
Xia Xunqian had no umbrella.
After walking a few steps, his clothes became damp. Feng Lin slowed his pace.
Xia Xunqian walked to Feng Lin’s side and heard him say,
“Come closer.”
The cold voice was almost lost in the sound of rain.
“Come closer,” Feng Lin said again.
Xia Xunqian stepped closer to Feng Lin. The rain no longer hit his face.
Feng Lin led him to the side courtyard of the ancestral hall. He went inside the room and said to Xia Xunqian:
“Take it off.”