Lemon: Early the next morning, the uncle and auntie in the kitchen received notice. The butler, who had previously been…
Early the next morning, the uncle and auntie in the kitchen received the notice.
The butler, who had been so aggressive before, seemed to have become a different person overnight, smiling benevolently as he bestowed his mercy.
“You don’t have to pay for the damages. And there’s a new rule: any food left over at the end of the night that was going to be thrown away, everyone may take home as needed, to avoid waste. Of course, there must be no cutting corners or hiding things away for yourselves, or the punishment will still be severe.”
“That’s it?”
The butler gave a half-smile. “Isn’t that good enough? What more do you want?”
“Good, good.” The kitchen uncle and auntie could hardly believe they had turned a corner so easily and escaped disaster.
This was good news for everyone else too. After all, in the past they’d had to sneak around when taking things; now that it was permitted, there would be no more hiding.
Lu Jiahui soon heard about it as well, but unlike the others, she warned Lu Wanning: “You’d better not take any of that stuff for now.”
“Why not? Didn’t they say it’s allowed?”
“There’s a saying: when things happen abnormally, there’s always something fishy.” Truthfully, Lu Jiahui couldn’t quite explain why, but her intuition told her something was off. “Just listen to me. From now on, we’ll buy our own milk.”
Lu Wanning opened her mouth. She had wanted to tell Lu Jiahui about her agreement with Han Yao, but seeing her mother’s cautious expression, she decided to keep it to herself rather than worry her for nothing.
But a toy.
How does a person become a toy?
Soon enough, however, Lu Wanning got her answer.
“So, Wanning, under these circumstances, would you be willing to ask President Han for help?”
Xu Zhen gazed at her, making the request in a solemn tone.
Lu Wanning said nothing.
Xu Zhen continued slowly, “If you’re unwilling, I can’t force you. It’s just that every project represents everyone’s hard work including all the effort you’ve put in recently. I’m sure you hope they all succeed as well.”
She retreated in order to advance, gently coaxing.
After a long while, Lu Wanning asked, “If I refuse, what happens? Will you make me leave?”
“I wouldn’t be so narrow-minded,” Xu Zhen said frankly. “It’s just that if this path doesn’t work, we’ll have to think of other ways, and the department will be under a lot of pressure going forward.”
For a full five minutes, Lu Wanning didn’t speak, barely even blinked, just staring straight at the person in front of her. Her gaze was clearly fixed on Xu Zhen, yet it seemed as if she were looking through her at someone else.
Xu Zhen tried to read some emotion in those eyes, to glean what she was thinking, but found nothing.
When the waiter knocked and asked again, Lu Wanning rose to her feet. The hem of her beige suit brushed against the tablecloth, hanging down softly. For a moment, she felt that this jacket was her last line of defense.
“I’ll try.”
Lu Wanning’s voice was a little hoarse.
Then, without another word, she walked straight out of the private room.
…
It was already eight-thirty in the evening, but the tower in Fucheng was still brightly lit, countless employees still toiling inside. For them, the night had only just begun.
The building had twenty-four-hour security, and any unidentified person would be promptly shown the door by the ever-vigilant guards.
Lu Wanning had no employee badge and wasn’t a registered visitor, but when she placed her finger on the turnstile to scan her fingerprint, the machine let out a sharp beep of approval.
Seeing that she was dressed formally and didn’t look like a bad person, the security guard paid her little attention, only thinking to himself how hard working people have it these days it was nearly nine and she still hadn’t gotten off work.
Fucheng’s access controls were strict; employees could only reach their own department’s floor by fingerprint or staff badge. But now, without her pressing anything, the corresponding floor lit up on the elevator.
Lu Wanning stepped into the elevator with an expressionless face.
The numbers climbed steadily to the thirty-sixth floor.
Five years since she’d last been here. The decor had changed new tiles, new paint on the walls but she couldn’t forget the way.
Out of the elevator, straight down the corridor, then turn right. At the very end was a snow-white door. Every other door was clearly marked with a number and purpose; this one alone bore nothing at all.
Young Miss Han’s private office.
Step by step, Lu Wanning finally came to a stop before the door.
Closing her eyes, she could almost hear the voices that had once sounded here, in those vanished years.
“Touch my heartbeat You know, it hurts so easily here. But the moment I see you, I feel safe.”
“So you have to stay where I can see you, always.”
“I don’t even want to miss a single second of your breathing Lemon, I really am a madman, aren’t I?”
If Han Yao was a madman, then what did that make her, for letting her do all of it?
So noisy.
It was all long over. Why did it keep ringing in her ears?
Lu Wanning opened her eyes and pushed the door open hard.
Cold wind poured in from the wide-open window, sweeping over her entire body in an instant.
No lights were on in the room. A slender figure in a silk nightgown sat motionless at the desk, its doll-like face hidden in darkness, its outline barely traced by the last remnants of moonlight from the window.
Han Yao tilted her head slightly.
“Good evening.”
Lu Wanning stared into her eyes.
Those cat-like eyes glimmered with flecks of light whose emotion was impossible to read as if she had long expected a visitor to arrive.
“Still going to pretend?” she said coldly. “Wasn’t it you who schemed to get me here?”
But Han Yao seemed to know nothing, only answering with a smile.
“I never said any such thing.”
That feigned, perfectly measured bewilderment was like a provocation. The taut string in Lu Wanning’s mind snapped in an instant. She strode forward, eyes blazing with fury, her emotions on the verge of erupting.
Yet Han Yao not only didn’t avoid that gaze she lifted her eyes and asked, “What, going to hit me?”
Lu Wanning drew a deep breath. “You think I don’t dare?”
“You’re so bold. What wouldn’t you dare?”
Han Yao rose and approached, step by step. Lu Wanning had plenty of chances to back away, but her body seemed nailed to the spot, frozen fast.
And so her right wrist was seized in Han Yao’s grip.
Then her palm was pressed against that cheek she hadn’t touched in so long.
“And yet,” Han Yao said softly, “why are you trembling?”
Lu Wanning was indeed trembling from her fingers to her wrist, her arm, shaking beyond all control. She could have shaken free with the slightest effort, yet she simply couldn’t.
Why was it so cold.
Han Yao’s smile grew ever more radiant. “Why won’t you hit me, then?” She continued guiding Lu Wanning’s right hand, letting it slowly touch her cheek, her neck. “Can’t bear to?”
“So you do know this isn’t how one asks for a favor?”
After a long moment, Lu Wanning wrenched her hand back.
“What do you want?”
Between the two of them, there was no need for wasted words.
Just as Han Yao knew that no matter how cruel she was, Lu Wanning would never raise a hand against her.
Just as Lu Wanning knew that anything Han Yao wanted, she would obtain by any means necessary.
From the day Han Yao reappeared, everything had spiraled out of control. The brief calm of recent weeks was merely the omen of an approaching storm. Every single event had been meticulously designed, paving the one and only road forward the road she was destined to walk.
She had known all along.
…
Many years ago, Han Yao had once handed a sheet of paper to Lu Wanning. “Write your name.”
“An agreement?” Lu Wanning frowned, giving it a once-over. The word was utterly foreign to her. “What’s an agreement?”
“It’s a promise between you and me. Once you sign it, you’ll be my toy.”
She was at an age when she hadn’t even learned all her characters, and the page was crammed with dozens of densely written clauses. Lu Wanning read them half-understanding, muddle-headed, comprehending nothing at all.
“I…”
“You promised me.”
A faint trace of hurt flickered in Han Yao’s eyes.
“Are you going back on your word?”
“…”
Her expression remained unchanged, but the moisture welling up in her eyes could not be faked.
Lu Wanning couldn’t bear to see her sad. Even with a flicker of hesitation in her heart, she found herself wavering. She agonized for a moment, then thought whatever, it’s something I promised. It’s just writing a name, isn’t it? What could possibly happen?
So she took the pen and scrawled the three characters “Lu Wanning” in a crooked hand.
“There. Done?”
The brisk, decisive way she wrote seemed to please Han Yao, and soon she smiled, lips pressed together. “Mm.”
…
Before her now, the wind stirred the bound pages on the table. Not many of them, rustling with a “flap-flap” in the silence.
Unlike all those years ago, this time Han Yao said nothing at all.
But those glistening eyes might as well have been speaking, her gaze sweeping over Lu Wanning from head to toe, as if admiring her own handiwork.
Hair brushing her shoulders. Brown.
The length she liked.
A beige coat, tailored impeccably, fitting her figure just right, tracing the lines of her shoulders—neither overly draped nor stiff.
Clothes she had chosen. Fabric she loved.
All of it on the person she wanted to see.
Ah, what a wonderful mood.
Was there anything more delightful than this?
Han Yao’s eyes curved into a smile as she tapped her fingertip against the blank document she’d had printed.
She wanted Lu Wanning to write her name once more.