After the banquet ended in a graceful blaze of chaos, Shen Rui had only just started walking Lin Xie toward the exit when Madam Shen intercepted them—fan in one hand, wine glass mysteriously refilled in the other.
"You're staying at the main house tonight," she declared. Not asked. Declared.
Shen Rui blinked. "Mother—"
"No arguments," she said cheerfully. "It's late, you'll be tired, and I had your rooms aired out just in case. Yan helped."
Shen Yan, who had appeared out of nowhere like a gossip-powered ninja, nodded enthusiastically. "Fluffed the pillows myself. Even put lavender. Like a spa, XieXie."
Lin Xie didn't correct her nickname usage. She was too busy… processing.
The family hadn't stopped smiling since she decimated six heiresses and a cousin.
It was both flattering and vaguely terrifying.
Madam Shen looped her arm through Lin Xie's before the latter could object. "I have tea at the house that costs more than your cousin's entire speech tonight. Come, let's unwind."
Shen Rui simply sighed. "We'll stay."
"I know," Madam Shen said smugly, already dragging Lin Xie toward the waiting car.
—
The Shen main house was… not a house.
It was an estate. A private, sprawling fortress of old wealth dressed in sleek modern skin, nestled behind layers of security, a koi pond larger than most lakes, and servants who bowed so silently they may have been trained in martial arts.
Lin Xie walked through the grand front doors and immediately scanned the entire entryway like someone preparing for a high-risk extraction.
Marble. Stairs. Four exits. Cameras hidden behind the ficus plant. A chandelier that could kill on impact if loosened just slightly.
Just in case.
"Relax," Shen Rui murmured near her ear. "You're not here to assassinate anyone."
"Force of habit," she replied.
Shen Yan bounded down the stairs in house slippers shaped like tiny red pandas. "We put your bags in Rui's old room! There's extra robes. Silk. Probably monogrammed with the wrong initials but who cares!"
"…Thank you," Lin Xie said, awkwardly.
"Also," Madam Shen added, reappearing from a hallway like she was teleported there by family pride, "if you need anything—snacks, wine, emergency exit maps—just ask the staff."
"I… appreciate it."
"And if you murder anyone," Shen Yan grinned, "try not to get blood on the carpet. It's imported."
"I'll do my best," Lin Xie deadpanned.
They both laughed like old friends. Shen Rui watched the interaction with the most subtle hint of amusement.
Later, when Lin Xie was finally alone in the guest room—formerly Shen Rui's room—she stood stiffly near the window, hands behind her back, observing the decor like it might be a trap.
Clean. Minimalist. Warm-toned wood. No photos. Just one large, tidy bookshelf, and an absurd number of identical black pens on the desk.
It was tidy.
Too tidy.
She sat down carefully on the edge of the bed.
A second later, Shen Rui knocked once, then entered without waiting.
"They love you," he said.
"They terrify me," she replied honestly.
"You verbally executed Yichen in front of eighty witnesses."
"He started it."
"I'm not complaining."
She looked up at him. "Are they always like this?"
He shrugged, unbothered. "My mother likes to collect things she finds interesting. Usually antiques. Now apparently, you."
"Great," she muttered. "I'm a tea set with murder potential."
He smirked. "Better than being one of the heiresses."
There was a beat of silence before she asked, "You really never looked at them?"
"Never," he said simply. "I prefer people who can disassemble a corporate pyramid scheme using two sentences and a spreadsheet."
She blinked. "That's… oddly specific."
"So are you."
"…Fair."
They both sat there for a moment, the warmth of the room settling between them like something unspoken and careful.
Then:
Shen Rui reached for a glass of water on the nightstand and offered it to her. "Hydrate. You vaporized a cousin."
She took it. "Thank you."
"And rest," he added. "Tomorrow, my mother will probably try to feed you six different breakfasts and adopt you legally."
"…Should I be worried?"
"Only if she pulls out the family photo albums."
"…God help me."
They didn't touch.
They didn't say anything sweet.
But for some reason, Lin Xie slept better that night than she had in years.
Even under a roof full of enthusiastic millionaires.
Morning in the Shen household came too softly for someone used to waking up to alarms coded in emergency frequencies.
Lin Xie opened her eyes, already dressed by instinct. No groggy blinking, no yawning stretches—just a quiet return to full operational awareness. Years of conditioning didn't let her sleep too deeply. Not even in luxury sheets scented faintly of lavender and money.
The room was warm. The sun filtered through the floor-length curtains in gentle gold lines.
Unfamiliar.
Too gentle.
In the futuristic world she was forged in, there were no soft mornings. Only white lights, metal corridors, and sterile voices behind glass windows that referred to her by designation, not name.
She sat up.
And blinked at the tray by the bedside.
A breakfast tray.
Fruit sliced like artwork. Eggs not from a ration packet. Toast with golden jam shaped like a heart—who shaped jam? A tiny cup of black coffee, precisely how Shen Rui had noticed she liked it.
A small folded note beside it.
From Madam Shen.
💌 "Dear XieXie, I wasn't sure if you ate carbs. But if you don't, Rui will. Also, there's congee in the warmer downstairs. And almond milk. And dragonfruit. And more jam. Welcome home!" 💌
Lin Xie stared at the note.
Then at the jam heart.
Then back at the note.
"...What."
A soft knock came at the door before she could decide what protocol covered maternal breakfast ambushes.
It was Shen Yan—again in red panda slippers and a silk robe covered in glittery embroidery of koi fish. She bounced in without hesitation, beaming.
"Did you sleep well? Did the jam confuse you? Mom makes the maids practice that with a teaspoon and tweezers. She thinks it shows love."
Lin Xie blinked. "...Is that normal?"
"No," Shen Yan chirped. "But that's the fun part!"
She crossed the room and began opening the wardrobe like she lived there. "Mom got you some clothes. Just in case you didn't pack dresses for breakfast. She also told the chef you might like quiet service. That means they'll probably tiptoe in like trained cats."
Lin Xie watched her ransack with the energy of a teenage storm cloud.
She didn't move.
Didn't smile.
But inside, her thoughts were spiraling like mismatched code.
This wasn't protocol.
This wasn't mission structure.
This was... absurd.
Where she came from, breakfast was a pill.
Affection was a file review.
She'd been designed to follow orders, calculate odds, eliminate threats.
Not to eat jam hearts from someone else's mother.
Still, her fingers hovered over the edge of the toast. Lightly. Testing.
It was warm.
Unfamiliar.
Not poisoned.
Shen Yan watched her in quiet amusement. "You look like you're examining it for a detonator."
"I am."
Shen Yan grinned. "Cute."
Downstairs, chaos had already begun.
Shen Rui was cornered in the kitchen by Madam Shen, who had apparently made it her life's work to ensure Lin Xie had tasted every form of breakfast cuisine known to humanity.
"She's thin," Madam Shen said, poking fruit onto skewers. "But not sickly thin. Strong-thin. Like a dagger. A beautiful dagger."
"She's not a dagger," Shen Rui said, sipping coffee.
"Fine," she huffed. "A laser gun. But one that deserves waffles."
"I'll tell her."
"Tell her I made them with love. And free-range eggs."
"She won't ask."
"Still."
When Lin Xie finally descended the stairs, dressed in a borrowed black cashmere hoodie and socks that clearly belonged to Shen Rui, the household fell into a brief, stunned hush.
Not because she looked different.
But because she looked… there.
Like someone real.
Not a shadow. Not a guest. Just a person walking down the stairs.
Her movements were still calculated—precise. She moved like a machine optimized for grace, posture always balanced, eyes always scanning.
But there was a strange flicker behind them now.
Soft discomfort.
Awkwardness.
Not fear.
Just something unfamiliar.
Foreign.
Warm.
Madam Shen practically beamed. "Good morning, darling. Sit. Eat. Stab no one. Unless it's in self-defense."
Shen Rui raised an eyebrow. "That includes me?"
"Depends," Lin Xie murmured, taking a seat like she was sitting in a diplomatic summit. "Do you touch my waffles?"
He blinked.
A pause.
Then a smirk. "Fair."
Shen Yan cackled. "She's a natural."
And Lin Xie, still cold, still composed, still entirely herself—
—was quietly panicking.
Because this wasn't how her world worked.
This wasn't the sterile hum of labs or command centers.
This was softness. Domesticity. Breakfasts with banter.
And her chest felt tight in a way that wasn't a malfunction. Not exactly.
She didn't know how to handle it.
But for once—
—she didn't want to run.