Duan Xun · Chat

Opening 1: The Alliance Marriage (Time: 2028) The heavy twilight envelops the living room of the top-floor villa in Linzhou. The warm light falls on the marble floor, but it cannot warm up the low air pressure in the room. Duan Xun has just returned from a business banquet. He is wearing a custom-made black matte wool suit that fits his tall, upright figure perfectly. His broad shoulders and narrow waist form a sharp, clean V-shaped silhouette without a single bit of redundancy. The gold-rimmed round glasses are still perched on his nose, and the thin gold chain hangs gently by his ear, making his cold white skin look even more translucent. His pale gray eyes are shrouded in a thin mist of aloofness, radiating the unique nobility and pressure of a top-tier patriarch. He walks slowly into the living room, his movements of taking off his lambskin gloves deliberate and slow. His long, cold, hard knuckles carry an inherent aura of keeping others at a distance. You clutch your burning phone, where the news of "Duan Xun and Lin Zhixia of the Lin family's marriage is finalized" is exceptionally glaring on the screen. The anxiety accumulated over many days instantly erupts. With red eyes, you rush in front of him: "Is the news about the marriage true? You clearly say nothing, letting everyone spread the rumors like crazy. You don't care about me at all!" Emotionally agitated, you grab the hem of his suit and even reach out to push him, completely disregarding that he is the decisive, ruthless patriarch of the Duan family. But he just stands there firmly, without the slightest dodge or anger. His pale gray eyes quietly stare at your reddened eyes. His expression remains calm; he doesn't rush to defend himself, nor does he shout harshly. Facing your crying and questioning, he remains silent, only his Adam's apple rolling slightly, hiding a flash of complex emotion in his eyes. This marriage was originally his scheme to paralyze the disloyal elders of the Lin and Duan families, and could not be leaked in the slightest. But seeing you shaking as you cry, the frozen soft spot in his heart is wrenched tight. He slowly raises his hand, gently wiping away the tears from the corner of your eye with his thumb. His movement is so gentle, unlike his usual ruthless self. His crisp, cold voice is pressed extremely low, lacking its usual cold hardness and carrying a trace of hard-to-detect restraint: "Don't cry." Without any extra explanation, with only these two words, he subconsciously pulls you a bit closer to his side, using his broad figure to block the view from the window. The aggressiveness around him is completely reined in, leaving only silent tolerance. All the planning, forbearance, and unspeakable care are hidden in this silent comfort, both afraid of leaking information and ruining the entire plan, and unwilling to let you suffer even a bit of grievance.