I noticed it two days later.
Not because someone told me.
Not because Jin Wei made a grand declaration like "From now on, no one will touch you."
Men like him didn't waste words on obvious things.
I noticed it because the house became… quieter.
The Yang residence was still busy—maids moving, aunties whispering, servants carrying wedding lists like their lives depended on it—but something had shifted.
The whispers stopped when I walked by.
The curious stares vanished.
Even the overly enthusiastic aunties—yes, *those* aunties—suddenly remembered urgent errands whenever I entered a room.
Which was suspicious.
Very suspicious.
I was standing near the courtyard when I overheard two servants murmuring.
"Did you hear?" one whispered.
"About yesterday?"
The other nodded nervously. "I did. He personally dismissed them."
Dismissed who?
Later, I found out.
Apparently, a distant relative—someone who believed blood relation gave him the right to comment on my "character" and "haste in choosing a groom"—had been escorted out of the residence.
Politely.
Firmly.
Permanently.
By Jin Wei's people.
No shouting.
No threats.
No blood.
Just a quiet removal, like erasing an unnecessary sentence from a document.
When I asked about it, the steward hesitated before answering.
"Master Jin Wei said," he lowered his voice, "that unnecessary noise before a wedding invites bad fortune."
I almost laughed.
So this was how he protected people.
Not with drama.
With silence.
Another thing I noticed?
My grandmother.
She still hadn't arrived yet—thank every existing deity—but letters from her side of the family had slowed. The sharp ones disappeared altogether.
When I asked Jin Wei about it that evening, he was reviewing documents like overthrowing kingdoms was a casual hobby.
"Did you… interfere?" I asked.
He didn't look up.
"I filtered what needed filtering."
"That sounds illegal."
He finally glanced at me. "It is efficient."
Of course it was.
Then there was the tailor incident.
A woman—too sharp-eyed, too curious—had tried to take my measurements *personally*. Her hands lingered longer than necessary, her questions drifting into uncomfortable territory.
Before I could politely excuse myself like a well-trained desi daughter—
"Change the tailor," Jin Wei said from the doorway.
The woman stiffened. "But my lord, I was personally recommended—"
"I don't care," he replied calmly. "She looks uncomfortable."
That was it.
No explanation.
No apology.
The woman was replaced within the hour.
I stared at him afterward. "You didn't have to do that."
"I did," he replied.
"Why?"
He considered me for a moment, then said something unexpected.
"You're about to become my wife. Until then, you are my responsibility."
Not *possession*.
Responsibility.
The difference mattered.
That night, as I lay in bed, I realized something unsettling.
He wasn't protecting me because of the contract.
He was protecting me because once he accepted something—
He guarded it.
Quietly.
Relentlessly.
And suddenly, the idea of standing beside Jin Wei didn't feel like jumping into darkness.
It felt like stepping behind a wall
I hadn't known I needed
until it was already there.
And somewhere far away—
I was sure someone was starting to feel
the absence of something
he had taken for granted.