A Dangerous Game

The morning light spilled through the massive windows, casting golden streaks across the luxurious bedroom.

Yiran sat at the edge of the bed, still in the silk nightgown the maids had prepared for her. She had barely slept.

Her fingers traced the faint crease in the note she had hidden beneath her pillow.

"You shouldn't be here."

The words still clung to her like a shadow.

She had spent hours replaying them, searching for a clue in the handwriting, the phrasing—anything. But the note revealed nothing.

Just an anonymous warning.

And yet, whoever had left it had made one mistake.

They had expected Xia Yuxuan.

Which meant they had no idea that Yiran was standing in her place.

For now, that was her only advantage.

A sharp knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts.

She quickly tucked the note back under her pillow. "Come in."

A maid stepped inside, bowing her head respectfully. "Madam, the Master requests your presence for breakfast."

Yiran's pulse quickened.

The Master.

Not your husband. Not President Lu.

Lu Zeyan.

So formal. So distant.

Like last night's wedding never even happened.

Yiran inhaled quietly before nodding. "I'll be ready soon."

The maid hesitated for half a second—too brief for most to notice, but Yiran caught it.

A hesitation.

A flicker of something in the woman's expression.

But before Yiran could analyze it, the maid bowed once more and quickly left the room.

She exhaled, moving toward the vanity.

Her reflection stared back at her—calm, composed, unreadable.

She had spent years learning how to survive in a house that never truly wanted her. Now, she would use those same skills to survive in this one.

She would go downstairs.

She would sit with the Lu family.

And she would figure out who wanted Xia Yuxuan gone.

Yiran moved through the grand hallways of the Lu estate, her every step soundless against the polished marble floors.

The silence here was different from the Xia family's.

It wasn't cold.

It was watchful.

As if unseen eyes followed her every movement, assessing, waiting.

She exhaled slowly as she reached the entrance of the dining hall. The towering double doors were already open, revealing the long, elegantly set table inside.

The Lu family was already seated.

And so was Lu Zeyan.

Her husband sat at the head of the table, his posture composed, his presence commanding even in silence.A newspaper rested on the table beside him, untouched, and a cup of black coffee sat steaming near his hand.

He didn't look at her.

Didn't even acknowledge her entrance.

Yiran schooled her expression, smoothing down the fabric of her dress before stepping inside.

The moment she did, a wave of quiet scrutiny fell upon her.

She wasn't welcome here.

She felt it in the way the Lu elders' eyes swept over her, polite but indifferent. In the way the younger members exchanged subtle glances, as if weighing her worth in their minds.

This wasn't just breakfast.

This was a test.

She reached the empty seat beside Lu Zeyan and sat down, careful to keep her movements fluid, unshaken.

A servant immediately stepped forward, pouring tea into the fine porcelain cup before her.

And then—

A woman across the table spoke.

"You seem well-rested, Madam Lu."

Yiran lifted her gaze.

The speaker was Madam Lu Rong, Lu Zeyan's aunt. She was in her late fifties, elegantly dressed in a deep emerald qipao, her silver hair styled to perfection. Her expression was warm, but her tone carried an undercurrent of something else.

Testing. Weighing.

Yiran smiled faintly, reaching for her teacup. "The estate is very peaceful."

Lu Rong's lips curved slightly. "That's good to hear. I imagine a new environment must be… unsettling."

Yiran took a small sip of tea, letting the warmth steady her. "Not at all. My husband has made me feel very welcome."

Across the table, someone stifled a quiet laugh.

The sound was light, almost delicate, but Yiran felt the mockery in it instantly.

She turned toward the source—a young woman seated near the end of the table, elegantly dressed in soft pink.

Lu Meixiu.

One of Lu Zeyan's cousins.

She smiled, resting her chin lightly against her hand. "How wonderful," she mused. "Considering my cousin barely speaks to anyone outside of business, I was worried he might be… distant."

Yiran felt the weight of the words immediately.

A direct challenge.

A way of forcing her to either defend Lu Zeyan or expose the cold reality of their marriage.

Across from her, Lu Zeyan remained silent.

He didn't correct his cousin. Didn't interfere.

He was letting her handle it.

A test.

Yiran set her teacup down with practiced grace.

She smiled. "Oh, he's distant."

A flicker of amusement passed through Lu Meixiu's eyes.

"But," Yiran continued smoothly, lifting her gaze to Lu Zeyan, "I don't mind. I've always found that powerful men speak less and act more."

Lu Zeyan's fingers, which had been lightly resting against the table's edge, tapped once against the wood.

Almost imperceptibly.

But Yiran caught it.

And so did everyone else.

For the first time since she entered the room, Lu Zeyan finally looked at her.

Their eyes met.

Dark. Calculating. Unspoken amusement.

Then, without breaking his gaze from her, he spoke.

"Clever."

Yiran's heart skipped.

A single word.

But in a room full of people listening, it meant everything.

A ripple of silence spread through the dining hall.

Lu Zeyan's single word—"Clever."—hung in the air between them.

He hadn't said it with admiration. Nor with sarcasm.

Just a quiet acknowledgment.

Yiran held his gaze, her heartbeat steady.

For a fleeting moment, she swore she saw a flicker of amusement in his dark eyes.

And then—just as quickly—it was gone.

He turned away, reaching for his coffee, as if the exchange had meant nothing at all.

But Yiran wasn't naive.

It had meant everything.

Across the table, Lu Meixiu's expression remained polite, but the light in her eyes had dimmed slightly. She had lost this round, and she knew it.

Madam Lu Rong, however, simply let out a soft chuckle, stirring her tea. "Sharp words so early in the morning. I suppose this marriage won't be dull."

Yiran smiled faintly, lowering her gaze in mock modesty. "I only meant to compliment my husband."

Lu Rong hummed, clearly amused. "How devoted."

The conversation moved on, shifting toward business and estate affairs. Yiran remained quiet, listening.

She was no fool—this wasn't a home.

It was a battlefield dressed in fine silk and porcelain.

Each word was calculated. Each glance a silent test.

But the most dangerous player at this table wasn't any of the elders.

It was the man beside her.

Lu Zeyan.

Even as he spoke, his voice smooth and composed, he didn't truly engage. He listened. He let others reveal their thoughts, their alliances, their unspoken grievances.

A man who rarely spoke—but always controlled the conversation.

Yiran studied him carefully.

Why had he let her win against Lu Meixiu just now?

Was it amusement?

Or was he seeing how far she was willing to go?

A servant moved to refill her teacup, but Yiran lifted her hand slightly, signaling she had enough.

The maid hesitated for half a second too long.

Yiran's brows lowered slightly.

Strange.

She had already noticed an odd tension among the staff since this morning—the way the maid in her room had hesitated before delivering Lu Zeyan's summons, the way the servants here seemed too careful.

As if they were watching her.

Or rather—watching to see if she would last.

Her fingers brushed against her lap under the table.

How many people in this house had expected a different bride?

And more importantly—

How many of them wished Yuxuan was dead?

The quiet clinking of porcelain and silverware filled the dining hall as breakfast continued.

But Yiran had already lost her appetite.

Something felt off.

It wasn't just the weight of the Lu family's scrutiny. It wasn't just Lu Meixiu's failed attempt to test her.

It was the silence beneath it all.

The way the servants moved too carefully, spoke too little.

The way a maid who refilled her tea refused to meet her eyes.

The way the air in this house felt like it was waiting for something.

She had felt this before.

In the Xia family estate, this kind of tension meant only one thing—something was about to happen.

Yiran set her cup down, her fingers steady against the fine porcelain. She couldn't let them see her uncertainty.

Across the table, Lu Zeyan placed his napkin down beside his plate, signaling the end of the meal.

As if on cue, the conversation around them immediately shifted to closing formalities. The Lu elders excused themselves, some nodding at Yiran with polite acknowledgment, others barely offering a glance.

Lu Meixiu, however, took her time standing, casting one last glance in Yiran's direction.

"I look forward to seeing how well you adapt to life in this family," she said with a small, knowing smile.

Yiran returned it just as smoothly. "I'm sure I'll adjust just fine."

Lu Meixiu tilted her head slightly before finally walking away.

Yiran exhaled silently.

The moment the last guest left, she felt Lu Zeyan's gaze shift toward her.

She turned.

For the first time since breakfast began, they were alone.

A few lingering servants remained in the room, but they kept their distance, moving quietly in the background.

Lu Zeyan studied her for a moment before speaking.

"Walk with me."

It wasn't a request.

Yiran held his gaze for a second before nodding.

She rose gracefully, following him as he led her through the open terrace doors and into the cool morning air.

A path of stone steps led down into a private garden—manicured, pristine, yet strangely empty.

The further they walked, the more the estate's walls shielded them from view.

Yiran spoke first. "Are we finally having a proper conversation?"

Lu Zeyan let out a quiet hum, hands in his pockets. "You handled breakfast well."

Yiran lifted a brow. "Was that another test?"

He didn't answer immediately.

Then—a small, almost imperceptible smirk.

"Everything in this house is a test."

She inhaled slowly. That much was clear.

They stopped near a stone fountain, its water flowing in slow, rhythmic cycles.

For a moment, Lu Zeyan simply studied her. Not cold. Not warm. Just watching.

And then he spoke again.

"This marriage," he said, voice smooth, deliberate, "isn't just for show."

Yiran's fingers curled slightly.

She had expected that. But hearing him confirm it made it real.

Still, she kept her expression composed. "Then what exactly do you expect from me?"

Lu Zeyan took a step closer.

Just enough for her to feel the shift in the air between them.

"You'll find out soon enough."

Yiran held her breath, waiting for an answer that never came.

Lu Zeyan had just told her this marriage wasn't for show.

That meant it had a purpose.

A purpose she wasn't aware of yet.

But when she asked what he expected from her, he had only given her a calm, measured response—

"You'll find out soon enough."

A quiet breeze drifted through the garden, stirring the strands of her hair.

The morning sun painted golden light over the stone path, but for some reason, she still felt cold.

Lu Zeyan didn't move closer. Didn't press her for a reaction.

He had already won this conversation by saying almost nothing at all.

Yiran finally exhaled, tilting her head slightly. "You enjoy keeping people in the dark, don't you?"

He gave a soft hum, as if amused. "It's the most efficient way to test their patience."

Her fingers curled slightly, but she forced herself to smile instead of react.

Two could play this game.

"Then I suppose I'll have to be patient," she said lightly.

Lu Zeyan's eyes flickered with something unreadable.

Then, without another word, he turned and walked away.

Yiran remained by the fountain for a few seconds longer, listening to the faint trickle of water.

Then she followed.

By the time she stepped back inside the estate, he was already gone.

The servants continued moving in silent precision around the halls, their faces unreadable.

She was on her own again.

Yiran exhaled, steadying herself before walking toward her private wing of the house.

But the moment she opened her bedroom door—

She stopped.

Something was different.

The room was spotless, just as she had left it. The bed neatly made. The windows slightly open, letting in the fresh morning air.

But on the vanity table—

A single object sat waiting for her.

A small red envelope.

Yiran's stomach twisted.

Her feet moved forward on instinct, but her hands hesitated as she reached for it.

She slowly picked up the envelope, her fingers grazing the fine paper.

No name. No markings.

Just a perfectly folded message inside.

She unfolded it.

And then—

Her breath stalled.

The note was written in the same handwriting as the one from last night.

But this time, it wasn't a warning.

It was a question.

"Who are you?"