POV: Lin Yichen
"Are you still a virgin?" My mother asked this like she was double-checking whether I packed enough socks.
Not a hint of discomfort. No dramatics. Just that dry, surgical tone she saved for moments where she knew I couldn't escape.
I blinked, half-asleep on the train, pretending not to hear.
"Yichen," she repeated. "I asked you a question."
"I… I am," I muttered.
"Louder. I'm not hard of hearing."
"Mama, I said I am."
My cheeks practically caught fire. Her voice still rang in my skull like an echo chamber as the bullet train slid into Nurabad Central Station… polished, imperial, unreasonably beautiful. The skyline outside blurred: glass-and-gold towers stitched against mountain silhouettes, like the heavens and the stock market had shaken hands.
I hadn't even stepped off the train, and already I needed divine intervention and three years of therapy.
Forget it. New city. New rules. New masks.
Maybe even a new me.
If I survived this weekend.
---
The chauffeured car cut through the east district like it belonged here. Unlike me.
It was Meilin's family car; sleek, black, gliding like a shadow across the ancient stone roads of the estate district. The closer we got, the quieter everything became. Not from peace, but from presence. The kind of hush that came with generations of money so old it didn't need to speak.
Then.
The gate.
Not just a gate. A spectacle. A warning. A test.
Flanking the entry stood two enormous globe sculptures, cast in imperial stone, coiled around gold pillars that shimmered under the late sun.
The driveway shimmered, paved with jade tiles so pristine I could practically see my insecurities reflected back at me.
Standing guard was a man in a black and gold uniform, posture rigid enough to intimidate trees.
His eyes scanned me from behind gold-rimmed glasses.
I straightened my Jilbab and offered my student ID like it was a passport to another dimension.
He looked at it for half a second before stepping aside with clinical precision.
"You may proceed, Miss Lin. Madam is expecting you."
No emotion. No judgment. Just flawless automation.
But that was the thing. I didn't belong here. I wasn't part of this algorithm. I was just… temporarily inserted into someone else's dynasty.
The moment I stepped through those gates, I felt it.
The air changed. Like it had been filtered for people with curated bloodlines.
The scent of osmanthus drifted through the air, warm and syrupy. Every tree lining the drive was sculpted into perfect geometry. The koi pond to the right was practically meditating. Even the breeze felt rehearsed.
And at the top of the long, blinding-white staircase…
Him.
Still. Tall. Staring.
Chen Wei.
Wearing black like it was armor.
No tie.
No emotion.
Just a flawless silhouette and a platinum watch that caught the dying sunlight like it had something to say.
His face?
Carved.
Expressionless.
Cold as winter tea.
I froze.
Meilin's older brother. The eldest son. The heir of the Chen legacy.
I had heard the stories. Everyone had.
He ran his father's empire before he was legally old enough to drive. Never did interviews. Never attended social functions. He lived in the shadows of silence, but somehow, his name always made the loudest noise.
They called him The Silent Flame.
Because when he chose to speak?
It scorched.
And right now, he wasn't speaking.
But his eyes were dissecting me.
I looked away first.
"Yichen!!" Meilin's voice shattered the moment.
She bolted down the stairs barefoot, scarf askew, like she had just escaped a royal meeting to come greet a long-lost cousin.
"You're here!" she gasped. "I thought Professor Jian kidnapped you again or something."
"I needed air. And your directions were criminal."She rolled her eyes.
"You're dramatic."
"You have koi fish that probably pay taxes. I'm allowed to be dramatic."
Meilin laughed and grabbed my hand, pulling me up the staircase like she'd forgotten her brother was watching us like a scene from a surveillance drama.
But I hadn't forgotten.
His eyes were still there.
Still silent.
Still burning
---
Inside the estate?
Gilded insanity.
The chandelier in the foyer looked like a frozen galaxy mid-explosion. The walls were hand-painted silk, embroidered with phoenixes and calligraphy verses in gold thread. I passed by at least two vases that looked older than some nations.
Agarwood incense curled through the air like invisible poetry, clinging to my skin and senses. I wanted to cry from how rich it all smelled.
Meilin chattered nonstop, rambling about her finals, Xiao Shiyu's late arrival, and a conspiracy theory that their maid was an ex-spy.
But my brain?
Still outside.
Still on the dragon gate.
Still on him.
"This is your room!"She threw open a door like a scene from a historical drama reveal.
And… wow.
Satin bedspread in jade and silver. Bookshelves lined with rare editions. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a Zen garden that looked CGI.
There was even a perfectly folded prayer mat in the corner and a small pot of rose-scented tea steaming quietly on the desk.
"This is a palace," I whispered.
"Eh. Not really. It's just the east wing."
"The what?"
She shrugged. "You should see the moon deck. My brother's the only one allowed there."
Of course he is.
I dropped my bag beside the lacquered bamboo writing desk and sat on the edge of the bed.
It didn't even creak.
My phone buzzed.
Dr. Jian Mazhir:
You arrived safely, I hope. We need to talk soon.
I stared at the screen.
I could still hear his voice in my head.
Too calm. Too knowing.
"I see more than a student in you."
I flipped the phone over and stood, walking to the window.
The garden below shimmered in soft lantern light. Every pebble seemed placed with sacred intention.
And there, by the lotus fountain…
Him.
Again.
Chen Wei. On the phone. One hand in his pocket. His back straight. Posture perfect.
I watched too long.
Too long.
Then let the curtain fall and whispered
"Ya Allah… what have I walked into?"
---
Next Chapter Peek: The Dinner & The Message
By dinner, the house had… shifted.
Not louder. Just… fuller.
Like something unspoken had draped itself over the room.
A tension stitched with money and mystery.
Staff glided like shadows.
Silver bowls clicked with ceremony.
The scent of five-spice duck, saffron jasmine rice, and honeyed rosewater lingered like incense.
"Sit here," Meilin said, patting the silk cushion beside her. "Ignore the tension. My mum insists we dine like emperors, even if we're crumbling inside."
I smoothed my jilbab and sat.
Then looked up.There he was.
Chen Wei.
Still. Silent. Sharp.
Not staring. Reading.
Like he wasn't observing a dinner table; he was reading plotlines.
Each time I glanced up, our eyes either met or had just met. Like clockwork. Precise. Impossible to time.
His silence didn't echo.
It weighed.
His mother, dressed in a jade green cheongsam embroidered with golden phoenixes, leaned forward gently.
"So, you're preparing for National Service soon?" Her tone was warm silk,respectful and curious.
"Yes, Auntie. In shaa Allah."She nodded. "You'll do well. I can tell."
A tiny girl beside her leaned toward me and whispered mid-chew, "You smell like my Qur'an teacher."
I blinked. "I hope that's a compliment?"
She nodded vigorously, rice grains stuck to her cheek.
And then…
His voice.
Cool. Low. Polished like the inside of a Bentley.
"You study Literature?"
No small talk. Just that.
"Yes. Final year."
A pause. Then…
"It suits you."
No smile. No elaboration.
But it didn't feel like a comment.
It felt like a verdict.
I reached for my cup, hoping my hand wasn't visibly shaking.
Then…
My phone buzzed.
Once. Sharp.
Unknown number.
We need to talk… alone. Tonight.
My breath snagged between tension and dèjà vu.
I looked up again.
Chen Wei was gone.