Daniel

The walk back to the guest suite was quiet. Not the cold silence of strangers, nor the brittle silence after a fight. No, this was the thick, waiting quiet of two people pretending they didn’t feel anything—just to see if the other would blink first.

Daniel opened the screen door and gestured her in.

Vivian entered like she was being announced. Her robes moved like water. Her posture hadn’t shifted once since they left the dining room. If she was tired, she didn’t show it. If she was rattled, she wouldn’t let it surface. He closed the door behind them and leaned back against it. The lights in the suite were low and warm. Outside, a breeze whispered across the balcony, fluttering the curtains.

“I think you have some explaining to do,” he said, breaking the stillness.

Vivian made a quiet sound, neither yes nor no, and moved toward the tea table, fingertips tracing the edge of the lacquered surface. Her shoulders were back. Head high. A queen in exile.

Daniel gestured around them. “If this is your version of non-entanglement,” he said dryly, “you might want to revisit the definition.”

Vivian glanced at him, unimpressed. “I fulfilled my obligation.”

“Is that what that was?” he asked. “Obligation?”

She folded her arms. “You knelt before my father.”

“I protected your name,” Daniel said. “I made sure you weren’t embarrassed in front of the entire Empire. It was necessary. I’ve explained this.”

“And I bowed to your parents. Presented gifts. Smiled at your sisters. Ate Margaret Zhou’s dumplings and pretended not to notice Claire staring at me like she wanted to spit fire. I did what I needed to do.”

Daniel’s smile twitched. “So you were trying to balance the scales. Make us even.”

“No. I wasn’t thinking about it like that.”

“You didn’t have to come,” he said, voice softening. “You told me you wouldn’t.”

Vivian’s eyes flicked toward him. “You never actually asked. You just assumed I wouldn’t.”

“We both know that was a reasonable assumption.”

“Well, you changed the rules when you knelt to save Jun.”

Daniel shrugged. “Someone had to stop him from turning the ceremony into a disaster. If I hadn’t stepped in, your father would’ve executed him—and your relationship wouldn’t have survived the blow.”

“And someone had to make sure your family—and all the Path Iconics watching like hawks—didn’t think I was a cold-hearted hag.”

Daniel tilted his head. “Are you saying you care what people think?”

“I care about outcomes,” she said quickly.

“Same thing,” he replied.

“You’re overthinking it.”

“You’re under-explaining it.”

She looked away, out toward the moonlit courtyard. Her profile caught the glow of the lantern, and for a moment, she looked like something painted in ink and glass.

“You said you didn’t want a husband,” he said, his voice going low. “Didn’t want closeness. That this was just a political arrangement.”

“Yes. I did,” she said quietly.

“And yet… tonight.”

He took a step closer—not threatening, not even intentional. Just drawn.

“You didn’t just show up. You bowed. You brought gifts tailored to my siblings’ personalities. You let my mother serve you with chopsticks. You made my brother stammer like a drunken sailor.”

Vivian’s expression remained flat. “I was polite. I was proper.”

“You were brilliant,” Daniel said. “You were bloody perfect. Beautiful. Serene. A godsdamn vision. That wasn’t politeness. That was full-on theater.”

She turned toward him. “So what, Ethan? You want me to apologize for being effective?”

“No,” he said. “I want to understand what the hell is happening.”

A pause. Long. Weighted.

She spoke first. “You threw everything off balance when you knelt. When you saved my—my friend. No one else would have done that. No one else would even consider doing that.”

Daniel shook his head. “It’s not that big a deal. I stabilized the situation.”

“You lowered yourself.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow. He repeated. “Is that what you call it?”

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“To the outside world?” she said. “Yes.”

“And what do you call what you did tonight?”

Vivian hesitated.

Daniel waited.

Finally, she said, “A response. An appropriate reaction to your action.”

“That’s not how you respond to something you don’t care about,” he said, stepping in close now.

Their eyes met.

Quiet. Hot. Sharp.

Vivian’s voice dropped half a tone. “You’re impossible.”

Daniel smiled faintly. “I’m practical.”

“You think you’re clever.”

“Why are we citing facts we already know?”

“You’re aggravating.”

“You’re just upset you can’t flash that gorgeous face of yours and have me back down.”

That stopped her. Just for a second. Her lips parted—like she’d been planning to say something else and it slipped.

Then she said, quieter now, “What do you want from me, Ethan?”

“Nothing you don’t want to give,” he said. “I’m just trying to understand. Because nothing about your behavior tonight seems logical. And honestly, if we’re going to be stuck in this, I’d rather we both stop pretending we’re statues.”

“You think I’m pretending?”

“I think the Ice Queen might be warmer than people think.”

She didn’t answer that.

Not because he was wrong.

But because he wasn’t.

A silence stretched.

And just as something might have cracked open—just as Daniel saw her shoulders shift, her gaze soften—

A knock.

“Uh… Brother Ethan?”

Ryan’s voice, muffled through the door.

Vivian stepped back—faster than she should have.

Daniel exhaled and called out, “Come in.”

She retreated toward the shadows of the inner room. Not hiding—just withdrawing. Rebuilding her walls.

Ryan entered, scroll clutched in hand, eyes bouncing between them like a kid walking into the middle of a storm that had just decided to behave.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know if now was a bad time—”

“It’s fine, little brother. What’s up?”

Daniel took the scroll from Ryan’s hands.

“Why are you already working on compression arrays?” he asked, brow raised. “You just got the technique.”

Ryan hesitated, then squared his shoulders. “I’ve already learned it.”

Daniel blinked.

Ryan continued, voice low but certain. “It’s clean, but slow. I’m trying to trim the casting time—if you can’t fire it faster than a standard spirit technique, what’s the point?”

Daniel stared at him.

So did Vivian.

Her eyes narrowed—not critically, but curiously.

That didn’t surprise Daniel.

Ryan had always been like this. Quiet. Precise. Annoyingly fast when it came to anything martial. His instinct for technique optimization was practically reflexive.

Daniel unrolled the scroll. The glyphs shimmered faintly—silver loops in a tight compression weave. Elegant at a glance, but flawed at the junctions. Beautiful. But broken.

He was halfway through the first node when he realized Ryan wasn’t even looking at it.

He was staring at the floor. Hands clenched. Posture wound tight.

Daniel looked up. “Alright. This isn’t about the scroll, is it?”

Ryan opened his mouth. Closed it. Then blurted out, “It’s about Lily.”

Vivian turned her head slightly. She didn’t interrupt. But she was listening now.

Daniel leaned back. “Go on.”

Ryan ran a hand through his hair. “She’s… amazing. Not just pretty. Brilliant. Kind. Talks to me like I matter.”

“She’s from a noble family?”

Ryan nodded. “Tier three. Branch line. Technically slightly above us, but not politically aggressive. Old bloodline. Quiet rep. We met in the archive wing. She laughed at my notes.”

Daniel smiled. “And?”

“We started talking. Walking together. She lets me carry her satchel sometimes.”

He paused.

“We held hands once.”

Vivian blinked slowly—caught between a smirk and a sigh.

Daniel kept his tone light. “So what’s the problem?”

Ryan’s face darkened. “Jinhai.”

The name had weight.

“His dad’s a senior arbiter in the Commerce Tribunal,” Ryan said. “Untouchable. Jinhai acts like he owns the campus. Especially Lily.”

Daniel’s jaw tightened. “What kind of behavior?”

Ryan’s voice dropped. “He bullies her. Says things like ‘how graceful’ or ‘you look better without that cloak’—but when no one’s looking, he gets close. Too close. Last week, I found him cornering her behind the garden wall.”

Vivian’s fingers tensed in her lap.

Daniel didn’t move. “What happened?”

“I hit him,” Ryan said. “No magic. Though I should hit him with magic, the bastard. Just—straight to the mouth. He dropped like a sack of grain.”

He paused. “I may have kicked him. Once or twice.”

Daniel grinned. “Good. That’s my little brother.”

Ryan blinked. “What? You’re not mad?”

“Of course not,” Daniel repeated. “You did what you were supposed to. You don’t put up with that shit ever.”

“Brother, how can you say that? I’m going to ruin everything,” Ryan said, panic rising. “Jinhai’s threatening to file a report. His parents are involved. Lily’s terrified. If this gets back to Mom and Dad—”

Ryan looked down at his hands.

“They’ve worked so hard to rebuild this house. I don’t want to be the one who cracks it.”

Daniel gently rolled the scroll closed.

“You didn’t crack anything,” he said. “You protected someone. That’s not shameful.”

“But—”

“Your mistake,” Daniel said, “was thinking the truth speaks for itself. If anything like this happens again, you come to me immediately. Understand?”

Ryan went still, then nodded. “Yes, Brother.”

Daniel stood. Moved around the table.

“You did the right thing. Now we need to be smart. We’ll talk to Lily. Prepare a witness statement. Get ahead of this before his family spins it.”

Ryan looked at him like he was seeing him for the first time.

“You’re not alone in this,” Daniel said. “Not anymore.”

Ryan sagged. “Thank you.”

Vivian stood and appeared to be messaging on her crystal.

Daniel turned, expecting sarcasm.

Instead: “You’re good with him. But, dear husband... you don’t need to do any of that. Don’t forget who you’re married to.”

Then her face changed.

Not cold. Not poised.

Just still.

And angry. Really angry.

“I want to make sure I understand,” she said, addressing Ryan directly. “Did my brother-in-law just say a girl he cares about was assaulted?”

Her voice was perfectly level.

Terrifying.

Ryan froze but spoke slowly.

“Yes.”

Vivian stepped forward. “And the boy who did it?”

“Jinhai,” Ryan whispered. “Son of Arbiter Wei.”

Vivian’s eyes narrowed.

Daniel had never seen her like this.

She turned toward the archway. “Mei.”

The aide appeared instantly, already alert.

Vivian didn’t look away. “Tell Mei everything you know about them.”

Ryan blinked. “W-what?”

Vivian crouched, just enough to meet his eyes. Not kneeling.

“I need to know who they are,” she said, “so I can make sure they never mistake you—or Lily—for someone unprotected again.”

Ryan nodded. He spoke quickly—names, alliances, influence threads.

Vivian listened. Every word.

Then she straightened.

“Mei,” she said, voice like cut glass. “I want everything. Their holdings. Their allies. Contracts. Who they trade with. Who they owe. What they’ve buried. Now.”

Mei bowed and vanished. “Yes, my lady.”

Vivian turned back to Ryan.

“If I hear,” she said, “that he approaches either of you again—if Lily is pressured, if your name is threatened—I will attend to it personally. No need to be afraid.”

Ryan opened his mouth. No words came.

Vivian continued, giving him a slight smile. “No one lays a hand on what’s mine.”

She turned to Daniel.

“And that includes my little brother-in-law.”

Daniel didn’t speak.

But something in his chest shifted.

Slow. Strange. Warm.

She hadn’t said it to win him.

She’d said it because she meant it.

And in that moment, he realized—

Vivian Li wasn’t just playing her role.

She had just claimed it.