Chapter 14: The Uninvited Guest and the Unraveling Dinner

Lin Yuhan adjusted the cuffs of his charcoal suit, eyeing his reflection with detached approval. No tie, no unnecessary flair — just clean lines, precise tailoring, and quiet command. He had just finalized a long-distance partnership with an AI startup in Sweden, and his private dinner was supposed to be a rare moment of silence. No meetings. No phone. Just his own company.

Then the doorbell rang.

Yuhan froze, head tilting slightly toward the sound. No one should be here. His staff was off-duty for the evening, and his parents were away in Lagos. He moved to the security screen and his eyes narrowed.

Shen Mochen.

Standing there like a monolith of tailored guilt, a deep red rose clutched in one hand, a carefully restrained expression on his face.

Yuhan didn't sigh. He didn't panic. He simply pressed his thumb to unlock the front door, but only opened it a sliver — just enough to lean against the frame, one brow raised.

> "You weren't invited."

His voice was low, calm, and devoid of warmth. He didn't need to raise it. Mochen felt it like a slap.

Shen Mochen shifted slightly, his presence too large for the doorway. His eyes, usually sharp with calculation, now carried something more unstable. "Yuhan," he said softly. "We need to talk. Properly."

Yuhan didn't move. "You've been sending gifts. Flowers. Books. Drawings. Now you think the next step is showing up unannounced?" He glanced at the rose with muted disdain. "You're mistaking obsession for sincerity. Again."

The tension between them thickened. Mochen's jaw flexed.

"I just want to understand. What happened to you? How do you know what you know? You act like you've seen a future I haven't lived yet."

Yuhan's gaze was quiet. Cutting.

> "Maybe I have."

And then he closed the door—until Mochen caught it with his foot.

A beat passed.

Then two.

Yuhan's hand tightened slightly on the handle.

Mochen leaned in, his voice lower now. "Please. Just tonight. Let me say what I came to say. You don't have to forgive me. You don't even have to like me. Just… let me in."

Yuhan was silent. Then finally, he stepped back.

> "You'll eat. Then you'll leave. That's the deal."

Mochen nodded like a scolded child. But Yuhan saw the flicker of victory in his eyes, and it made him want to break a glass.

---

Inside, the house was warm, minimalist, and full of shadows. Yuhan didn't ask Mochen to sit. Instead, he moved to the kitchen and returned minutes later with two plates — Nigerian jollof rice, grilled fish glazed with pepper sauce, and fried plantains.

Mochen stared at the meal as if it were a test. And it was.

> "You don't like spice," Yuhan said. "But you'll eat this. If you want to understand me, you'll stop expecting me to shrink to your tastes."

Mochen picked up his fork without a word. The rice hit his tongue like fire. He hid his wince behind a sip of water Yuhan hadn't poured for him.

> "This is… strong," Mochen said.

> "That's the point."

The silence that followed wasn't comfortable. It was charged — like a piano string stretched to its limit.

Mochen tried again, this time with forced casualness. "Genesis. You played that perfectly. You've built something impressive. People are talking."

Yuhan didn't smile. "Good. They should be."

Another silence. Mochen watched him, half in awe, half in confusion.

> "When did you become this person?" he asked softly.

Yuhan set down his fork. "When the last one died in a fire you lit."

The words landed like a blade.

Mochen flinched. It wasn't theatrical — it was real. "I didn't mean to—"

> "But you did."

"You meant to break me. You just didn't expect I'd rebuild from steel."

There it was again — that strength Mochen hadn't anticipated. The man sitting across from him wasn't the version he'd once pushed aside like a misaligned chess piece. This Lin Yuhan had claws. And a memory.

> "I see you now," Mochen whispered.

Yuhan tilted his head. "Pity you never looked before."

Mochen exhaled slowly. "I was arrogant. I underestimated you. And I… regret that."

It wasn't quite an apology. But it wasn't nothing.

Yuhan's lips twitched into a cold smile. "Don't confuse regret with respect. You regret because I'm untouchable now. But you didn't respect me then. You only value what you can't control."

> "I value you now," Mochen said.

That halted the conversation.

Yuhan stared at him for a long second.

Then laughed — quietly, without mirth.

> "You're mistaking your fascination with value. Don't fall in love with my power, Mochen. It's the one thing you can't ever have."

---

After dinner, Yuhan didn't offer coffee. Or dessert. He stood up, walked to the door, and held it open.

The message was clear.

Mochen stood, quietly. He hesitated at the threshold.

> "This isn't over," he said, not as a threat — but as a vow.

Yuhan met his eyes.

> "No. It's only beginning. But you won't be the one writing the next chapter."

And then he closed the door.

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