Dadi wasn't finished. she said "So___"
Ling said. "There's more?"
Rina burst out laughing. "Oh, sweetheart. This is Dadi. There's always more."
Dadi leaned back, perfectly composed. "First—curtains. Those prison-grey drapes of yours must go."
Ling frowned. "They're charcoal."
"They're depressing," Dadi corrected. "Velvet curtains. Deep red. Not bright. Wine-red. Heavy enough that when they fall, the world outside disappears."
Rina clapped. "Drama. I like it."
Ling swallowed. "Okay."
"And sheer layers beneath," Dadi continued, warming up now. "Soft ivory. So when light touches the room, it doesn't feel cold."
Ling nodded again, quieter this time.
"The bed," Dadi said, tapping her cane, "must be centered. No sharp angles. Silk sheets—black base, red embroidery. Real silk. None of that synthetic nonsense."
Rina whistled. "Of course. Trillionaire standards."
Dadi smiled. "Roses everywhere. Not scattered carelessly—arranged. Petals on the bed, full stems lining the headboard, one single rose placed on the pillow."
Ling's throat tightened. "One?"
"Yes," Dadi said. "One is intention. Many is desire."
Rina leaned forward. "Candles?"
Dadi nodded approvingly. "Hundreds. Tall ones. Short ones. Real wax. No electric lies. Placed on the floor, the tables, the window ledges. Let shadows move when you breathe."
Ling's hands clenched at her sides.
"And scent," Dadi added. "Nothing sweet. Sandalwood. Amber. Something that lingers even after she leaves."
Rina grinned. "Assuming she leaves."
Ling shot her a warning look.
Dadi ignored it. "A table," she continued, "small, round, beside the window. Crystal glasses. A bottle of wine older than most people in that university."
"Red," Rina said knowingly.
"Obviously," Dadi replied. "Opened beforehand. Let it breathe. Like you should."
Ling exhaled slowly.
"And music," Dadi said softly now. "Low. Instrumental. Something that doesn't beg for attention but wraps around the silence."
Rina tilted her head. "You're making it sound like a trap."
Dadi smiled. "No. A choice."
Ling finally spoke, voice barely above a whisper. "What if she feels… cornered?"
Dadi's gaze sharpened, suddenly serious. "Then you've failed."
The room went still.
"You do not cage her," Dadi said firmly. "You invite. You offer. Everything must say you can leave anytime."
Rina nodded, uncharacteristically solemn. "That's important."
Dadi looked back at Ling. "Luxury is not about excess. It's about safety wrapped in power."
Ling absorbed every word.
"And one last thing," Dadi added, almost casually. "Wear black and Red. Simple. No logos. No arrogance."
Rina smirked. "Let her shine."
Ling closed her eyes for a brief second.
When she opened them, there was no hesitation left.
"I'll do it," she said. "All of it."
Dadi smiled, satisfied. "Good. Because tomorrow night, that room won't just hold a kiss."
Rina laughed. "It'll hold consequences."
Ling stood up slowly, smoothing her sleeves, her expression finally serious.
"I have to tell Mom," she said. "And Dad. Tomorrow is a big day."
Dadi nodded at once. No teasing now. "Yes. Some things shouldn't be hidden."
Rina tilted her head. "Wow. Look at her. Responsible. In love and still disciplined."
Ling ignored her and walked out.
Eliza was in the sitting room, reviewing something on her tablet. Victor stood near the window, sipping tea, relaxed as always. They both looked up when Ling entered—together.
That alone made Eliza pause.
Ling rarely sought them out like this.
"Mom. Dad," Ling said. "I need to tell you something."
Victor raised a brow, amused. "That sounds serious. Are we bankrupt?"
Ling shot him a look. "No."
Eliza set the tablet aside immediately. "Sit," she said softly. "What is it?"
Ling sat—but didn't lean back. Her posture was controlled, her voice steady, but her fingers were tightly interlaced.
"There's someone," Ling said. "At university."
Victor smiled instantly. "Ah."
Eliza's breath caught—but she stayed quiet.
"I made a condition during a match," Ling continued. "If she lost, she would kiss me for a minute."
Victor chuckled. "Bold."
Ling didn't smile. "I won."
Eliza stiffened slightly.
"And tomorrow," Ling said, "I'm inviting her for dinner. After that… I want to propose. Not marriage. Just—truth. I want to tell her I like her. And you both know her Rhea"
The room went silent.
Then Eliza stood up and crossed the space in two steps, pulling Ling into a sudden embrace.
Ling froze for half a second—then relaxed into it.
"I'm happy," Eliza said, voice thick. "If you're happy, I'm happy."
Ling's shoulders loosened. "Really?"
Eliza pulled back, holding Ling's face. "Really."
Victor clapped his hands lightly. "Look at you," he teased. "My daughter—captain on the field, romantic off it."
Ling rolled her eyes. "Dad."
Victor smiled wider. "Invite her properly. Don't scare the poor girl."
Ling allowed herself a small smile. "I won't. And she is far more than me she isn't poor girl."
She stood, calmer now. "I need to prepare."
As Ling walked out, Victor watched her with pride.
But Eliza didn't move.
Her smile faded the moment the door closed.
Slowly, she sat back down.
Victor noticed. "What's wrong?"
Eliza stared at the floor, eyes distant. "She's gone further than I thought."
Victor frowned slightly. "Isn't that what growing up is?"
Eliza swallowed. "No. This isn't curiosity."
Her fingers tightened around the armrest. "This is attachment."
Victor studied her carefully. "You're afraid."
Eliza nodded once. "I see the way she speaks. The way she plans. She isn't playing."
Victor exhaled. "Ling has always been intense."
"Yes," Eliza whispered. "But intensity turns dangerous when it's emotional."
She looked toward the hallway where Ling had disappeared.
"I wanted control," Eliza said quietly. "I wanted distance."
Her voice trembled, just slightly. "I didn't realize how far my daughter had already gone."
Victor said nothing.
And somewhere in the mansion, Ling Kwong was preparing a room filled with red—
while her mother sat still, realizing that love, once awakened,
does not ask permission.