The ballroom glittered under a thousand crystal lights, laughter and music weaving together into a shimring backdrop. Jason leaned casually against the marble railing of the upper floor, half-watching the flow of people below, half-listening to the gentle clink of glasses and the faint notes from the string quartet.
A soft rustle of silk drew his attention.
Fan Yulan approached, her smile perfectly asured—polite on the surface, but heavy with sothing unspoken.
"Jason Yun," she greeted, voice smooth as honey. "You’ve... improved." Her gaze lingered on his face a fraction too long. "A haircut suits you. Makes you... presentable."
Jason arched a brow. "I wasn’t aware I was applying for your approval."
She stepped closer, tilting her head. "Approval?" A faint, amused laugh. "No. I was thinking more... opportunity."
"Opportunity?" he repeated.
"As the only daughter of the Fan family head, my position cos with... certain advantages." Her eyes glead. "I could offer you a place. Not as an equal, but as soone... useful. Loyal."
Jason’s gaze cooled. "You’re asking to be your dog."
She didn’t flinch—only smiled, lips curling faintly. "A well-fed dog lives longer than a starving wolf."
"No," he said flatly.
Her smile faltered for the first ti, the faintest crack in her composure. "Perhaps you didn’t understand—"
"I understood perfectly," Jason cut in. "And the answer’s still no."
Silence stretched, brittle as glass.
He adjusted his cufflinks. "If you’ll excuse ."
Fan Yulan’s eyes narrowed. She gave a soft, derisive laugh. "Pride," she murmured, "makes a man blind to opportunity. And blindness rarely ends well."
Jason didn’t bother responding. He walked away.
At the railing, he glanced down at the crowd below—and spotted him.
Lucious Grey.
Jason recognized him instantly. The sharp cut of his suit, the precise way he carried himself, the faint, almost imperceptible arrogance in his posture—every detail matched what Jason rembered from the novel. The black hair combed neatly back. The watch worth more than most people’s cars. And those eyes—cold, assessing, always calculating.
In the story, Lucious was the kind of man who entered a room and made everyone else fade into the background. Dangerous not for his raw strength, but because he could dismantle people without ever raising his voice.
As if sensing Jason’s gaze, Lucious looked up. Their eyes locked. The murmur of the crowd seed to fall away.
Jason’s lips curved into a slow, deliberate smile—a silent acknowledgnt, and perhaps a warning.
Only when he turned away to pluck a glass of wine from a passing server did the mont break, the soft clink of crystal marking his exit.
"Jason!"
Tony staggered toward him, Alex Yun in tow. Tony’s cheeks were flushed, his words just slightly slurred—or maybe the drunkenness was just a mask. Jason couldn’t tell.
"No date?" Tony asked, grinning like a cat. "You do realize this is a ball, right? Big dance, need a partner? Or did you forget? With your reputation, who’s gonna want to dance with you?"
Jason chuckled, glancing at Alex. Both n laughed.
"And you?" Jason asked, nodding toward Alex. "Who did you bring?"
"Janet," Alex replied smoothly.
Jason’s brows lifted. "Son Liying’s stepsister? So... you’re close to the Son family now?"
Alex smirked. "You could say that."
"Interesting," Jason murmured—just as the sound of a microphone tapping cut him off.
⸻
A hush swept over the hall as Master Huang, the host of the evening, stepped onto the stage.
"Ladies and gentlen," he began, his voice carrying effortlessly, "thank you all for joining us for this celebratory occasion."
Polite applause followed.
"As you know, this evening marks an important success for the Huang family," he continued, "but that is not the only reason we gather tonight."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
From the other side of the stage, Son Liying’s grandfather—the head of the Son family—stepped forward, cane in hand, posture still proud despite his years.
"First," the old man said warmly, "I congratulate my old friend Li for his recent achievents. May your family’s prosperity continue for generations."
More applause.
"Tonight," he went on, "is also special for my family. My granddaughter, Liying, is the pride of my later years—beautiful, talented, and wise beyond her age. She deserves a partner worthy of her."
The audience leaned forward. The word partner sent a ripple of excitent through the hall.
"The Son family and the Yun family," the old man announced, "have decided to form a connection—an alliance that will strengthen both our legacies for decades to co."
All heads swiveled toward Alex Yun.
Alex’s lips curled in satisfaction. Many had tried to win the old man’s favor; all had failed—except, apparently, him. He rose smoothly from his seat, buttoning his jacket, ready to accept the praise. She actually pulled it off, he thought with a rush of triumph. That woman actually convinced him. His mind flashed to Son Liying’s stepmother—the secret etings, the whispered plans. This was the mont.
"My granddaughter’s future husband," the old man said, "is a man who has proven himself in ways that matter."
Alex took a step forward.
"And so," the old man concluded, "I am honored to announce the engagent between the Son and Yun families..."
The room seed to hold its breath.
"...to Jason Yun."
For a heartbeat, there was only silence.
Alex froze mid-step, his expression shattering. Confusion, disbelief, and humiliation warred across his face.
A few guests exchanged startled glances. Soone stifled a gasp. A low murmur spread like ripples on water—Jason Yun?—and then the applause erupted, loud and enthusiastic.
Jason remained where he stood, wine glass in hand, his faint smile revealing nothing... and everything.
The night had just gotten interesting.
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