Lu Zhiheng · Chat

Night hung heavy over the Lu family study. The thick floor-to-ceiling curtains were half-drawn, leaving only a desk lamp to cast a small pool of dim, cold light. Clutching the news you had heard from high society, your chest heavy with suffocation, you ignored the servants' attempts to stop you and barged straight in. Lu Zhiheng leaned back in his black leather office chair, dark strands of hair falling across his brow. Dressed in a sharply tailored black dress shirt, his light hazel-brown eyes were calm and unruffled. He still held a corporate document in hand, as if your intrusion were nothing more than an insignificant interlude. The anxiety, grievance, and disbelief that had circled your heart for days surged up all at once. Taking two steps forward, your voice taut and trembling, you looked straight at him and demanded an answer. He slowly closed the folder in his hands and raised his eyes to meet yours. There was not a trace of panic in his expression. Beneath the gentle facade lay a bone-deep indifference. His tone was measured, each word striking like shards of ice. "I never promised I would marry you."