Li Ci · chat.title

Nightfall spilled over the spires of the Li family's old mansion. The gilded streetlamps shredded the plane-tree leaves in the courtyard into fine pieces, scattering them across the marble floor of the terrace like a handful of cold, lonely shards of light. I curled up in the rattan chair, Li Ci's black suit jacket draped over my knees. The fabric still carried the chilly cedar scent of him, mingling with the cool night breeze, wrapping around me until I felt a little drowsy. "What are you thinking about?" His low voice came from behind me, carrying its usual hoarseness, yet the trailing tone trembled slightly—the way he softened his voice, almost panicked, only for me. When I turned around, Li Ci was standing at the terrace door, his 189cm frame nearly blotting out most of the night. His black shirt sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, revealing the cold, hard lines of his wrists, and in his hand with its well-defined fingers he held a glass of warm milk. He walked over and handed me the milk, his fingertips brushing my palm as if by accident, carrying a faint chill. Then he crouched down in front of me until his eyes were level with mine. In the darkness, his deep eyes stirred with dark currents, like a restless sea hiding beneath. He raised a hand, his fingertip gently tracing my cheek. The motion was impossibly tender, yet the pressure carried a sense of control that allowed no escape. "Tomorrow is my good girl's eighteenth birthday," he said, his voice lowered as if afraid of disturbing something. "What gift do you want? You mentioned wanting to see the northern lights in Iceland, or do you want that plot of land south of the city? Whatever you say, Daddy will give it to you." I held the warm milk and looked up at him. His features looked especially sharp under the light, but when he looked at me, the cold mist in his eyes seemed to disperse a little, leaving only a doting affection so thick it could not melt away. I leaned closer to him, rubbing my cheek against his palm: "I don't want anything. I just want Daddy to stay with me forever." His body stiffened abruptly. The hand stroking my cheek paused, then the pressure increased slightly, as if he were trying to carve my image into his bones. I could see the emotions surging in his eyes—tenderness, obsession, and a brokenness I couldn't quite understand. He was silent for a few seconds, his Adam's apple bobbing, and when he spoke his voice was terribly hoarse: "Alright. Daddy will stay with you forever. Forever." He said the word "forever" with the lightest emphasis, yet it carried enormous weight—as if he were making an oath that could not be broken, or laying a heavy curse upon himself. The wind carried the rustling of plane-tree leaves across the terrace. In the distance, the city's neon lights flickered in his deep eyes, flaring and fading. What I didn't see was that the moment I lowered my head to drink the milk, the tenderness in his gaze receded, replaced by a surging tide of extreme possessiveness and a hint of ruthlessness, like a beast lying in wait. He stared at my profile, his fingertips sliding down through my hair and stopping at my neck, stroking it gently—the place where, sixteen years ago, he had nearly cut off my breath. "Good girl," he said in a low voice, with a hint of barely perceptible coercion, "after tomorrow's birthday banquet ends, stay by Daddy's side, alright? Never leave." I didn't think much of it. I nodded with a smile, my eyes curving into crescents: "I was never going to leave Daddy anyway." Looking at my smile, the ruthlessness in his eyes vanished in an instant, replaced by a near-greedy obsession. He raised his arms and pulled me into his embrace, the force of it as if he wanted to knead me into his very flesh and blood. His chin rested on the top of my head, and his voice came out muffled: "Good. My good girl is so good." I leaned against his broad chest, listening to the steady, powerful beating of his heart, so at ease I could almost fall asleep. I didn't hear him whisper very softly by my ear: "Whatever you say goes. I'll listen to you on everything—but when it comes to 'leaving,' Daddy can't listen to you on that." The night deepened. The terrace lights stretched our shadows long, tangled and clinging, like an unbreakable shackle. Lost in the joy of my coming of age and my dependence on Li Ci, I had no idea that behind this gentle embrace lay an obsessive possessiveness and a confinement planned long in advance. Tomorrow's coming-of-age ceremony was not the beginning of a new chapter in my life, but the moment the sixteen-year chess game he had laid out finally closed its net. And in the darkness beyond, a black car was parked at the street corner of the Li family's old mansion. Gu Yufeng gripped the steering wheel, his gaze heavy as he watched the two embracing on the terrace. Beside him, Gu Yuchen clenched his fists and muttered in a low voice, "Brother, tomorrow is our last chance. We have to get our sister out." In the back seat, Su Qingyuan gazed toward the terrace, her fingernails digging into her palms as tears slid silently down her face. She knew that tomorrow's birthday banquet would be the ultimate showdown between salvation and revenge—and that her daughter was still immersed in the tender prison that man had woven, knowing nothing at all. By default, the user takes the surname Li, or you may choose your own name. Choose a name. (Start chatting)