Ji Lanxue didn't knock.
She rarely did.
The door to the penthouse swung open with a soft hiss as she stepped in, heels clicking against the marble floor like a metronome to her smugness. Dressed in a soft blue coat and a skirt that screamed elegance with mischief stitched at the edges, she walked in like she owned the place.
Ji Yanluo, seated by the window with a glass of untouched wine in hand, didn't turn to look.
"I take it your day's been eventful," he said coolly.
"Oh, more than that," she answered brightly, dropping her purse on the nearest table. "I had a lovely chat with Bai Heng today."
That earned her a glance.
"And?" he asked.
Ji Lanxue flopped onto the sofa opposite him, crossing her legs with flair. "He's suspicious. Of me, of you, and most especially… of the veiled musician."
Ji Yanluo's expression remained unreadable.
"And you entertained him?" he asked, voice deceptively calm.
"Why not? Two siblings defending two queens. Isn't that poetic?" She tilted her head, watching him closely. "Speaking of defending queens—"
Ji Yanluo exhaled deeply. "Lanxue…"
"No, no, let me finish," she grinned, waving a finger. "I've been meaning to ask since the night of the Jade Pavilion showdown. You've owned many properties under Lingfeng, but you never once bothered with that run-down space until recently."
"It was strategic," he said dryly.
"Strategic?" Her brows arched. "You mean emotionally strategic?"
He stared at her. "What are you implying?"
"Oh please, ge." She leaned forward, lowering her voice dramatically. "You bought the Jade Pavilion for her."
He looked away.
Her eyes sparkled with triumph. "You did! Admit it! You, Ji Yanluo, master of icy indifference, were afraid your girl was going to get cornered by Bai Lanyue's circus, so you swooped in and declared the whole place yours."
"Lanxue…"
She gasped, leaning further over the table. "You're in love with her!"
"Enough," he said sternly, but his tone lacked its usual bite.
Ji Lanxue paused, then chuckled softly. "You don't deny it."
There was a flicker in Ji Yanluo's eyes, a rare softness breaking through his guarded mask. "She's been through enough."
"And you don't want her to go through it alone," Lanxue finished, her teasing gentler now.
Silence stretched between them. Ji Lanxue stood, walked to the window beside him, and leaned against the pane. "You were never one to interfere, Yanluo. Never the type to fight someone else's battles. But with her… you do it without blinking."
"She never asked for help," he said quietly. "She just endured."
Ji Lanxue glanced sideways at him. "And that bothers you."
He didn't reply.
"You know," she continued, "when I first met her, I didn't see it. She was quiet. Controlled. Too perfect almost. But now? Now I get it."
He turned his gaze to her, curious.
"She carries silence like an instrument. She doesn't shout, but you feel her presence like a chord strung too tight. And when she plays…" Lanxue sighed. "You can't look away."
Ji Yanluo's fingers tightened around the wineglass.
"I don't care if the world still thinks she's just a mystery in a veil," Lanxue said softly. "I know what I saw. And I know what you feel."
Ji Yanluo looked at her then, eyes deep with something unreadable. "What I feel is not what matters."
"Maybe not to the world," she said, smiling. "But it matters to her. Even if she won't say it."
She turned to leave but paused at the doorway, smirking again. "You better prepare, ge. Because if the next storm hits, and you're not at her side—someone else will be."
She disappeared with a swirl of perfume and laughter, leaving Ji Yanluo alone, staring into the evening light.
But this time, the wineglass wasn't untouched.
This time, he drank.