Terms of War

The morning breeze drifted softly through the Han estate, carrying the scent of jasmine and trimmed grass. Daniel had barely touched his tea. He sat at the breakfast table in silence, still haunted by Jia’s cryptic smile from the day before — the way she’d whispered riddles, brushed back his hair, and glanced toward his grandmother’s window like she was plotting something right under everyone’s noses.

She hadn’t exposed him.

But she hadn’t forgiven him either.

And now, she was smiling.

That was the most terrifying part.

A knock interrupted his spiraling thoughts.

“Young Master.” the housekeeper said gently, “Chairwomen would like to see you in her study.”

His stomach dropped. Again?

Madam Han sat at her desk, bathed in morning light, pouring herself another cup of tea. There was no tension in her face. In fact, she looked… pleased.

“You called for me, Grandma?” Daniel asked, masking his unease.

She gestured to the seat across from her. “Sit, dear.”