A House That Remembers

Morning light spilled across the room, warm and soft.

Yiran's eyes fluttered open, her breath slow, steady.

For a moment—just a moment—everything felt normal.

The silk sheets beneath her fingertips. The faint scent of morning dew drifting through the half-open window. The distant murmur of servants moving through the halls.

Normal.

But then—she remembered.

The whisper.

The cold breath against her skin.

The thing beside her bed.

Her chest tightened.

Slowly, she pushed herself upright.

The room was exactly as she had left it.

Nothing was out of place.

The mirror stood in its usual spot, reflecting the soft glow of the morning sun.

No handprints.

No strange ripples.

No signs that something had tried to push through.

Her fingers curled against the sheets.

Had she imagined it?

Had it really just been a dream?

Her gaze flicked to her wrist.

Her skin was warm now, but she still remembered the way it had felt last night—

Cold. Icy. Like someone had been holding onto her.

A quiet unease settled in her chest.

She exhaled, pushing back the covers.

No use thinking about it now.

She had bigger problems.

Like facing Lu Zeyan.

Because she already knew—he would be waiting for her.

Yiran dressed carefully.

Her fingers moved with practiced ease, buttoning the silk blouse, smoothing out the delicate folds of her skirt.

Controlled.

Measured.

Like nothing had happened.

Like she hadn't spent the night lying awake, afraid to close her eyes.

Like she hadn't woken up wondering if something had stood over her bed while she slept.

She inhaled deeply, then exhaled.

No use dwelling on it.

She needed to see Lu Zeyan.

She needed answers.

Steadying herself, she stepped out of the bedroom.

The house was quiet.

Too quiet.

The kind of quiet that didn't belong in a place this large.

As she walked through the corridors, the silence pressed against her ears.

Even though she could hear the faint sound of servants somewhere in the distance—the house itself felt still.

Like it was waiting.

Like it knew she had seen something she wasn't supposed to.

Her fingers curled slightly at her sides.

She reached the dining room.

Lu Zeyan was already there.

Sitting at the long table, a cup of black coffee in one hand, the morning newspaper folded neatly beside him.

His posture was relaxed, but there was something different in his expression.

Not amused.

Not entertained.

Serious.

His gaze lifted as she entered.

Dark. Cool.

Expecting her.

She hesitated for only half a second before stepping forward, pulling out the chair across from him.

No words were spoken.

The only sound was the quiet clink of porcelain as he set down his cup.

And then—he finally spoke.

His voice was calm. Even.

But there was no playfulness this time.

"So. You saw it."

Lu Zeyan's words hung in the air.

Calm.

Undeniable.

He wasn't asking.

He was stating a fact.

Yiran's pulse tightened.

Her fingers curled slightly against her lap.

There was no use pretending.

No use deflecting.

She met his gaze head-on. "Yes."

A flicker of something passed through his expression.

Not shock.

Not concern.

Just… understanding.

Like he had expected this.

Like he had been waiting for it.

Yiran inhaled slowly. "What was it?"

Lu Zeyan didn't answer immediately.

Instead, he picked up his coffee again, taking a slow sip.

Yiran's jaw tightened. He was thinking. Choosing his words.

Finally, he exhaled lightly, setting the cup down.

And then—he leaned forward slightly.

"It won't stop now."

A quiet, invisible weight pressed against Yiran's chest.

Won't stop?

Her stomach twisted. "What does that mean?"

Lu Zeyan studied her.

His gaze flickered—not with amusement, not with mockery.

But with something far more serious.

Something that almost—almost—resembled warning.

"Once it notices you," he said slowly, "it doesn't look away."

Yiran's breath hitched.

She swallowed. "What is 'it'?"

Lu Zeyan exhaled.

Then, for the first time, he gave her something real.

Something she wasn't sure she wanted to hear.

"This house isn't haunted, Yiran."

Her blood ran cold.

"It's alive."

Yiran's body went cold.

She barely felt the chair beneath her anymore.

The words echoed in her mind, twisting, sinking deep into her thoughts—impossible, yet undeniable.

She had felt it.

The whisper.

The touch.

The weight in the air.

She swallowed. "What does that mean?"

Lu Zeyan leaned back slightly, fingers tapping idly against the porcelain rim of his coffee cup.

He wasn't surprised by her reaction.

Because he had expected this moment.

Because he had been through this before.

"The Lu family has always been successful," he said lightly. "Always powerful. Always untouchable."

Yiran's fingers twitched.

She had grown up in high society. She knew that the Lu name was something untouchable, something whispered about behind closed doors.

Even her father, a man who rarely respected anyone, had spoken of the Lus with caution.

Not admiration.

Not envy.

Caution.

She inhaled carefully. "You're saying this house is the reason why?"

Lu Zeyan chuckled, but it wasn't amusement.

It was something colder.

Something that held the weight of too much truth.

"It's not just a house," he murmured.

He met her gaze, dark eyes holding something dangerous.

"It's the oldest member of the family."

A chill ran down Yiran's spine.

Lu Zeyan continued, voice calm, steady. Like he had already accepted this long ago.

"This place has existed longer than any of us. And it doesn't forget."

Her throat tightened.

"Forget what?"

His gaze didn't waver.

"Anyone who lives here."

Yiran's stomach twisted.

She didn't want to ask.

She already knew the answer would be worse than anything she imagined.

But still—she forced the words out.

"What does it want?"

Lu Zeyan exhaled lightly.

Then—he gave her the final piece.

His voice was almost soft when he said it.

"To know you."

Yiran's stomach twisted.

The way Lu Zeyan said it—calm, certain, inevitable.

Like there was no way to undo it.

Like it had already begun.

Her throat was dry. "And once it does?"

Lu Zeyan's gaze didn't waver.

"It never forgets."

A slow chill curled down her spine.

She exhaled sharply, pressing her fingers against the cool surface of the table, grounding herself. "I'm not the first, am I?"

Lu Zeyan didn't answer immediately.

But he didn't deny it either.

Yiran swallowed. "How many before me?"

This time, he did smirk—but it was cold. Unreadable.

He lifted his cup again, taking a slow sip before setting it down.

And then—he finally spoke.

"You asked the wrong question."

Yiran's fingers twitched.

Lu Zeyan tilted his head slightly.

"You should've asked how many are still here."

Her blood ran cold.

Her breath stalled in her throat.

Still here?

Her mind spun—trying to grasp the meaning behind his words, trying not to think about the whispers she had heard, the hands that had brushed against her skin, the feeling of being watched.

Her voice was quieter when she spoke.

"And my parents?"

Lu Zeyan exhaled, leaning back against his chair.

"They knew."

Yiran's chest tightened.

Of course, they did.

An arranged marriage into the most powerful family in the city?

Her father wouldn't have sent her here without knowing what he was trading.

She had always been nothing more than a piece on a chessboard to him.

"Did they warn me?" she asked quietly.

Lu Zeyan chuckled softly, shaking his head.

"No."

Her stomach dropped.

"They only told you it would be 'good for business,' didn't they?" he murmured.

Yiran inhaled sharply.

Because he was right.

That was all her father had said when he told her she would marry Lu Zeyan in place of Yuxuan.

It will be good for business.

That was all.

No warnings. No hesitation.

Because he had already made his decision long before she had a choice.

She clenched her hands into fists. "And you?"

Lu Zeyan raised a brow.

Yiran met his gaze, sharp, burning. "Did you know?"

Something flickered in his expression.

Not amusement.

Not cruelty.

Something calculating.

"You were already drowning in your sister's shadow," he said quietly.

Her breath caught.

He knew.

He had known from the start.

That she had always been the second choice.

That her entire life had been overrun by Xia Yuxuan's existence.

That no one had ever chosen her first.

And now?

Even this house had noticed.