Years passed like falling plum blossoms—quiet, slow, and impossible to gather once lost.
Li Meilin, now seventeen going on eighteen, lived a life surrounded by gold and shackles.
Her new "home"—a sprawling mansion hidden in the misty outskirts of Hangzhou—was a palace of luxury, but it was also her prison. Long Shen, the ruthless hei shehui (黑社会) boss who bought her at sixteen, was rarely present, but his orders were absolute.
He sent gifts, assigned tutors, and ensured that she was dressed like a jade doll and educated like a noble's daughter. But outside her private rooms and the rose garden, guards watched her every move. She was not allowed to step foot beyond the outer courtyard.
They said she was being "protected." But Meilin knew better.
She was being caged.
Even in the privacy of her own room, security cameras blinked from the corners. She stopped crying openly long ago. Tears, she had learned, solved nothing in Long Shen's world.
Her only solace was the moonlit garden behind the east wing. There, beneath a blooming plum tree, she watered the flowers herself—yulan magnolia, jasmine, and white peonies—the only living things that didn't fear her.
The gardener had once tried to stop her, warning that "the Master might not like his flowers touched."
But when Long Shen found out, he had simply said with that cold smirk, "Let her. Even prisoners need illusions."
---
On the night before her eighteenth birthday, Meilin curled on her silk-covered kang bed, listening to the rain tap the lattice windows. Her heart was heavy, her breath shallow.
"Yímā... please come back," she whispered.
Her aunt, Lin Xue, who had once smiled and promised she'd return, had left her on Long Shen's doorstep like unwanted baggage. She hadn't written. Not once. And now, Meilin no longer believed she ever would.
Tears rolled silently down her cheeks as she heard a soft creak outside her door.
Long Shen, dressed in a charcoal-grey Tang suit, stood still, listening to her muffled sobs. His face revealed nothing—neither pity nor regret.
Then, he walked away into the shadows.
---
The next morning, Meilin emerged from her room, dressed in a pale blue hanfu her maid had laid out. Her face was composed, but her heart pounded beneath her ribs.
The long table in the dining hall was adorned with a full birthday spread—dumplings, longevity noodles, red bean buns, and tea brewed in an antique Yixing teapot. And on the side table, wrapped in red silk, were neatly stacked birthday gifts.
"生日快乐,小宋小姐!" the servants chorused with bright smiles.
Meilin frowned. "My name is Li Meilin."
The room froze.
A voice echoed from above. Cold. Sharp. Dangerous.
> "Shuí shuō de?"
("Says who?")
Long Shen descended the staircase like a king returning to his throne. Dressed in a midnight black Zhongshan suit, a golden dragon cufflink glinted at his wrist—a subtle nod to his real power in the underworld.
"Your name is Song Xiaoyu now," he said, stopping in front of her. "You'll forget 'Li Meilin' ever existed."
"I won't," Meilin replied, her voice trembling but firm.
His expression didn't change. "You will."
He waved his hand. The staff bowed and retreated, leaving her alone with him in that vast hall of marble and silence.
Meilin stared at the gifts. "Whose are these?"
"Yours, of course," Long Shen said, sipping his tea with irritating ease. "You're legal now."
Her eyes narrowed. "I don't want them."
He smirked. "Too bad."
Then his tone darkened. "Your aunt didn't return. Not even a message. Our agreement expired last night."
He stood and approached her slowly. "You know what that means."
Meilin backed away. "She'll come. I know she will. She promised me!"
"You keep telling yourself that," he said, brushing a lock of her hair aside. "But from now on, you belong to me. In every sense."
Her fists clenched. "I'm not yours. And I never will be."
She turned to leave, but in a flash, he grabbed her wrist and yanked her back, slamming her down into the chair. She gasped, eyes wide.
"You don't turn your back when I'm speaking," he growled. "Not in my house."
Tears pooled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.
"I'm sorry… I won't disobey again."
"Good girl," he said, voice icy. "Now, eat."
She looked down at the food. "I've lost my appetite."
"I didn't ask," he snapped.
She ate mechanically, each bite a silent rebellion.
---
That night, Meilin stood at her window, staring into the darkness.
Earlier, Long Shen had whispered something that chilled her to the core:
> "Get ready. Tonight begins your real purpose."
She couldn't sleep.
So, she crept to the kitchen where the maids were quietly folding napkins.
"Um… can I ask something?" she said softly.
One of the older maids looked up. "What is it, Miss… Xiaoyu?"
Meilin winced. "Just… What does it mean if someone says, 'Get ready for tonight'?"
The staff froze.
A younger maid bit her lip. "Did the Master say that?"
Meilin nodded.
Silence fell like a stone in water.
Then one of the maids, eyes filled with sympathy, leaned forward and whispered the truth in her ear.
Meilin's hand flew to her mouth.
"No… not with him…"
The others looked away in pity.
Just then, a guard appeared in the kitchen entrance.
"Master Long requests her presence. Now."
The staff stepped aside in silence.
Meilin's heart dropped.
No more illusions. No more waiting.
Tonight, she would learn what it truly meant to belong to the mafia.