Chapter 12: The Family Table

The Chen family mansion was majestic—traditional Chinese architecture merged with modern elegance. Red-lacquered pillars stood tall beside carved golden doors. Delicate lanterns swayed under the eaves. A serene koi pond curved around the entrance, lined with blossoming cherry trees. The house didn't just whisper prestige—it radiated it.

Ye Mei adjusted her white silk qipao embroidered with soft peonies and plum blossoms. Chen Yixuan had personally selected it for her, saying, "Peonies suit you—gentle outside, resilient within." The dress fit perfectly, both graceful and dignified.

Her heart raced as she stood beside him before the tall wooden doors leading to the family dining hall. His warm hand enclosed hers, grounding her.

"It'll be alright," he said in a low murmur. "They'll love you."

She offered a shaky smile. This dinner wasn't just a meal—it was her formal introduction to the entire Chen clan.

The double doors opened, revealing a massive rosewood dining table, polished until it reflected the ceiling's hanging lanterns. Lined along either side were high-backed chairs, most already filled.

At the head sat Chen Jinhai, the patriarch—Yixuan's grandfather. He was sharp-eyed despite his age, his silver hair slicked back. Beside him, regal in a navy silk blouse, sat Madam Chen, his wife, posture flawless and expression observant.

On the left sat Chen Shuren and Madam Lin Huizhen—Yixuan's father and mother. Shuren, tall and commanding, looked like a hardened businessman. Lin Huizhen wore a smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes warmly.

Across from them sat Chen Liang and his wife Wen Meiling—Yixuan's uncle and aunt. Wen Meiling's posture was stiff, her eyes cool as they scanned Ye Mei.

Next to them was their son, Chen Ruo. He was tall, lean, his jet-black hair combed to perfection. He wore a tailored suit, and though his expression was polite, his gaze held thinly veiled disinterest.

On either side of the table were younger cousins, aunts, uncles, and notably Yixuan's siblings—Chen Yuan and Chen Xinyi, both smiling and waving enthusiastically when they saw Ye Mei.

"Ah, you've arrived!" Grandfather Chen rose to his feet. His voice echoed with strength. "Come, come. Let me see her."

Yixuan gently led Ye Mei forward.

"This is Ye Mei," he said clearly. "She's... someone very important to me."

A murmur went around the table. Ye Mei bowed respectfully.

"Good evening, Grandfather Chen, Grandmother Chen. Uncle, Aunt, and honored elders. It's a privilege to meet you."

Despite her soft voice, the room felt her presence.

Grandfather Chen let out a pleased chuckle. "I know who you are, child. You're the daughter of the woman who once saved my life. A debt I've not forgotten. She had the courage of a hundred men."

Ye Mei blinked, stunned. Yixuan had mentioned it, but hearing it from the patriarch himself… it meant something else entirely.

"She would be honored," she replied sincerely, bowing again.

"Sit beside me," Grandfather Chen gestured. "Family shouldn't stand on ceremony."

The servers appeared, laying out delicacies—steamed sea bass, red-braised pork, garlic chive dumplings, lion's head meatballs, stir-fried lotus roots, and chicken in Shaoxing wine.

Madam Lin Huizhen turned to Ye Mei. "Yixuan tells me you're attending art school?"

Ye Mei nodded, grateful for the question. "Yes, ma'am. Art has been my passion since I was young. I find it speaks when words fail."

Huizhen smiled. "Then you must show us your work sometime. I believe every home benefits from the presence of true art."

"She showed me a painting of a riverbank during sunset," added Chen Yuan with a grin. "It was amazing."

"Would you teach me?" asked Chen Xinyi excitedly. "I can barely draw a stick figure."

Ye Mei laughed softly, her nerves gradually dissolving. "Of course, I'd love to."

As the family warmed to her, plates were passed, conversations grew richer, and stories shared. Laughter came easy.

Until…

Wen Meiling, poised with her wine glass, glanced at Ye Mei. "So, you're a painter," she said in an even tone. "Art is lovely. But tell me—do you know anything about managing a household, or maintaining the standards of a family like ours?"

The table quieted instantly. Eyes flicked between them.

Chen Ruo raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, watching Ye Mei curiously.

Ye Mei set down her chopsticks. "No, Aunt Meiling," she said calmly. "I didn't grow up with luxury. But I was raised with honor, respect, and the willingness to learn. I may not know everything yet, but I will cherish and protect this family like it's my own."

A pause.

Grandfather Chen chuckled. "Courageous and composed. That's how I remember her mother."

Madam Chen nodded. "A rare combination these days. I like her."

Meiling glanced away, clearly displeased.

Chen Ruo finally spoke. His voice was smooth, unreadable. "Your confidence is admirable, Ye Mei. But not everyone who enters this family understands its weight."

His words were polite—but his tone wasn't.

Ye Mei looked him in the eye. "I understand enough to know it isn't something I'll take lightly."

Yixuan's grip on her hand tightened beneath the table, pride glinting in his eyes.

The conversation shifted again. Chen Yuan told a ridiculous story of how Yixuan once tried to build a treehouse and fell off halfway. Xinyi nearly choked laughing.

Wen Meiling remained silent, while Chen Ruo's eyes occasionally flicked toward Ye Mei, unreadable.

When dessert arrived—sweet osmanthus soup and sesame-filled glutinous balls—Grandfather Chen stood.

He raised his cup of aged plum wine.

"To Ye Mei," he said. "For walking into this house with grace. May you walk beside my grandson for many years to come, and may our ancestors bless you both."

Glasses clinked all around the table. Even Wen Meiling lifted hers, though she didn't speak.

Ye Mei felt her throat tighten with emotion. The night that began in uncertainty was ending with warmth.

As the servants cleared plates and people moved toward the tea room, Yixuan leaned in.

"They already love you," he whispered.

She smiled, her voice soft. "Even the ones who don't, I'll win over one day."

His fingers brushed hers. "You don't need to. You already belong."

Across the room, Chen Ruo watched them from behind his teacup, his gaze narrowed slightly—like a man watching a ripple form before a storm.

And Wen Meiling, quietly sipping her tea beside him, wore a frozen smile.