Chapter 9 – The Change of a King
The grand hall buzzed with new footsteps.
Jin Wurou, tall, sharp-eyed, fresh from years abroad, stepped into the mansion with a smirk tugging his lips. His presence carried both refinement and danger — the kind of man who smiled while calculating ten moves ahead.
Xun Lanyue rushed forward, clinging to his arm.
"Brother! You're finally back!"
Their aunt and uncle practically threw themselves at him, voices sickly sweet.
"Son, you didn't even tell us you were coming! If you had warned us, we would have prepared a grand feast in your honor!"
Jin Wurou only gave a thin smile, his eyes sweeping the mansion. Something in his gaze hinted he already saw through their pretenses.
But the scene shifted.
The Bedroom
In a quieter wing of the mansion, Han Zixuan sat at the edge of a large bed. His coat was gone, his sleeves rolled up. His expression — usually cold as iron — softened as he dabbed ointment onto Qiao Xueran's bruises with careful fingers.
She winced faintly but made no sound, watching him with those wide, "foolish" eyes.
When he finished wrapping her hand, he didn't hand her to the maids. He lifted her into his arms again, carrying her as though she were made of glass, and laid her gently on the silk sheets.
For a long moment, he simply looked at her. His jaw clenched, his eyes unreadable. Then, abruptly, he turned on his heel.
"Wait here."
Xueran blinked, tilting her head in childlike confusion.
Minutes later, he returned — not with a weapon, not with whiskey, but with a steaming bowl of soup.
At the door, his assistant — the loud, sharp-tongued Fang Ye — almost collapsed laughing.
"Boss, are you serious? You've never cooked for yourself, not once in your entire life. Now look at you — making soup for a fool! Uffff… love really does change people."
Han's glare nearly turned Fang Ye to stone.
"One more word, and I'll cut out your tongue."
Fang Ye choked back his laugh, retreating fast, but the grin never left his face.
Inside, Han sat at Xueran's bedside. He held the spoon to her lips.She stared at him, then opened her mouth obediently, sipping slowly.
Her lips curved into a faint smile.
"Tasty."
Something in Han Zixuan's chest tightened. For a moment, he almost smiled too.
But Qiao Xueran, behind those wide innocent eyes, whispered silently in her heart:Good. Fall deeper, Han Zixuan. Every step closer is a step toward your ruin.