Sunday mornings were supposed to be quiet. Still. Predictable.
Li Zeyan hated unpredictability.
Yet as he sat in the vast, silent dining hall of the Moon Pavilion, sipping a cup of black coffee with a file in one hand, he felt a tension he couldn't name crawling just beneath his skin.
The butler had already informed him that Madam Xu was awake.
She would be down shortly.
He didn't acknowledge the statement. He only gave a faint nod and turned another page of the report in front of him. But his eyes weren't reading. Not really. His mind was elsewhere, in a place he didn't want to admit existed.
Upstairs.
With her.
---
Xu Meilin had woken up groggily to a light knock and the butler's usual formal voice.
"Madam, breakfast is ready. The master is waiting."
She blinked rapidly, surprised. He's waiting? That was new.
She took a quick shower and towel-dried her damp hair. But as she stood before the open wardrobe, a small frown touched her lips.
She had no clean clothes left.
All the clothes she owned had been worn and left crumpled in a suitcase, and she hadn't yet gone to her apartment to bring more. What she had brought to the Xu family's home were barely wearable anymore.
Her eyes scanned the wardrobe again.
Only men's clothes lined the space, pressed shirts, designer suits, tailored trousers, all neatly arranged. All his.
Li Zeyan's.
Her hand hesitated, then settled on a black t-shirt. Plain, soft, oversized. She held it up and smiled slightly.
This will do, she whispered to herself.
The moment she put it on, the shirt swallowed her frame, hanging loosely around her shoulders and brushing softly against her thighs. The sleeves were far too long, falling past her wrists, and the neckline slipped slightly to one side, revealing a glimpse of her delicate collarbone. It wasn't meant to be worn like this, but on her, effortless and unintentional,it looked like something out of a painting. She looked into the mirror and blinked.
She looked... soft.
She looked like someone who had accidentally made a home in someone else's world.
And somehow, she didn't look out of place.
---
Downstairs, the rustle of paper paused.
Li Zeyan heard her footsteps before he saw her. Soft. Light. Unhurried.
And then...
She appeared at the top of the staircase.
His eyes lifted, slowly, almost involuntarily. His gaze locked onto her, and for a second, a split second, the world went quiet.
She was wearing his shirt.
Just his shirt.
His grip on the paper tightened, the edges crinkling between his fingers.
Her bare legs were exposed beneath the hem. Her hair, still slightly damp, fell in soft waves around her shoulders. She looked soft. Natural.
Beautiful.
Dangerously so.
His throat bobbed.
He swallowed hard, masking the sudden warmth that crept into his chest and down to his cock.
His jaw clenched immediately.
What the hell is she wearing?
Who gave her the right to touch my clothes?
Irritation flared in his chest. He looked away sharply, pretending to refocus on the documents in front of him, but his thoughts were spiraling, cold, angry, confused.
He was not the kind of man who let things like this affect him.
He didn't notice women. He didn't care.
But right now, as she walked gracefully down the stairs and took the seat opposite him like it was the most natural thing in the world, Li Zeyan felt something in his carefully structured world tilt sideways.
Xu Meilin sat quietly, unaware of the firestorm brewing behind the calm mask on his face. She smiled softly at the maids who placed her breakfast down, porridge, sliced fruit, and a cup of warm tea. She picked up her spoon with both hands, blowing gently on the surface of the porridge like a child trying not to burn her tongue.
It made him tense.
Everything about her right now made him tense.
"Who said you could touch my clothes?" he asked flatly, his voice like ice across the table.
Meilin paused mid-spoon, looking up at him.
There was no fear in her eyes. Just confusion, innocent, almost amused.
"I didn't have anything else to wear," she replied softly. "Everything else is dirty. I didn't think you'd mind."
He scoffed, slamming the file shut with a dull thud. The maids flinched in the background.
"You didn't think. That's your problem."
Her lips parted slightly, but she didn't speak.
Silence fell again.
It wasn't awkward, it was tense. Tightly coiled like a spring ready to snap.
He hated the way she sat so calmly in front of him. Hated the way her presence disrupted his usual order. Hated that his shirt looked better on her than it ever had on him.
And most of all, he hated himself for noticing.
She returned to her food quietly. She didn't argue. Didn't defend herself. She just sat there, soft and composed, eating as if his coldness didn't stab like a blade.
He hated that too.
Minutes passed. He sipped his coffee, eyes flickering to her again and again, trying not to, failing each time.
And then...
She looked up. Their eyes met.
"Do you want me to change?" she asked.
Her voice was calm. Her expression unreadable. Like she was offering him a choice, but also letting him see that she wasn't afraid of him.
His jaw clenched again. His chest felt tight.
"No. Forget it," he muttered, standing up.
He picked up his files and walked off, his footsteps sharp against the floor. As he passed her, he didn't glance in her direction. But the scent of her, lavender, again,followed him down the hallway.
He didn't understand it.
Why she made him feel this way.
Why he couldn't control it.
But he knew one thing: Xu Meilin was beginning to crawl under his skin, and that made her dangerous.